#I had one more outsiders prompt with the entire characters celebrating christmas and that was actually something I wished I could have done

[bubblegumflavor]

Doodlecember

The Outsiders - Wrong Presents

Soda -my family hates me- pop Curtis

(Since you didn't pick a specific character, I picked the only one I hadn't drawn for doodlecember so far and that was Sodapop... X3)

[hellfirecvnt]

Perv Eddie smut please!

You and the hellfire gang are playing truth or dare. Eddie teases you that you can’t turn him on, you are one of the guys so it won’t work. When you whisper the dirtiest things in his hear his mind is changed officially. Everyday after that he can’t look at you the same way. You’ve turned him into a huge pervert, stealing your panties and thinking degrading feral thoughts.

WOW OKAY. PERV!EDDIE HAS BEEN ON MY LIST I JUST COULDN'T THINK OF A GOOD PROMPT AND THIS IS PERFECT!!!

Finish What You Started

Perv!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warning: Smut near the end (+18 minors DNI), perv!eddie, peeping tom, Somnophilia, unprotected sex, more?

Another thrilling campaign was concluded tonight. Eddie was feeling particularly on top of the world having outsmarted the entire Hellfire Club, leading to their unfortunate (character) demise.

"Better luck next time, gentlemen... Y/N." He adds you at the last second, a testament to his "gentlemanly" ways.

"You knew what you were doing with that banshee, Munson." You huff, recalling the way you forgot they can sense life from five miles away, eliminating any chance you had for a surprise attack.

"Of course I did, dude. That's the point." He laughs, lightly punching you in the shoulder. "Now, don't be a sore loser. We're all going back to my place to celebrate my awesome campaign."

It was common for Eddie to host a "party" for the club at the end of a campaign. This time differed only in his ego being as big as the building tonight, having won and all. You and the rest of the guys give a cheer in confirmation, already prepared to get tore up from the floor up.

The group files outside, and you catch a ride with Eddie as you have a million times before. Jeff hops in his car and Gareth drives Dustin and Mike in his.

"You have fun tonight?" You laugh in Eddie's van as it smoothly coasts to his nearby trailer.

"Oh, sure. My favorite part was you, Y/N knower of all monsters and spells, insufferable know-it-all DnD extraordinaire, forgetting the one thing that makes a banshee, a banshee." He taunts, earning a playful scowl from you.

You arrive at the trailer within minutes, the rest of the club close behind. Everyone gathers in the empty living room as they have time and time before. Eddie tosses a bottle of beer to everyone except Mike and Dustin, but they don't mind. They're just happy to be here.

"Next week, prepare yourselves for perhaps my most sadistic adventure to date!" Eddie, buzzed, displays grand showmanship as he describes next week's sneak peek. The hang out shifts from DnD talk, to sporadic jam sessions, to crazy stories, until finally Dustin suggests Truth or Dare.

"What are we, five?" Gareth teases.

"No, no. This could be fun. Start us off, Henderson." A drunken Eddie hands Dustin the floor.

"Uh, okay. Jeff, truth or dare?" Dustin looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Huh, I guess dare." Jeff isn't the confessing type.

"I dare you to take a shot of the hottest hot sauce Eddie has in his house." Dustin looks at an elated Eddie. He scurries back to his room and comes back with a black glass bottle.

"Turn it up, Jeff." Eddie snickers.

"What is this? Is this even hot sauce? Is this drugs?" Jeff opens the small lid and sniffs.

"No, dumbass. It's ghost pepper extract. My uncle bought it as a gag gift for me one Christmas. It feels like tongue fucking a stove eye." Eddie slouches into the couch, watching for Jeff's reaction. He turns the small bottle up, one big gulp, and he looks at the rest of us.

"It's not really that bad." His lisp is multiplied by 7 and his eyes are steadily pouring tears, but other than that, he doesn't waver.

"Jesus Christ." Dustin marvels, laughing as Jeff's tears soak his shirt. "You're turn, Jeff."

"Eddie, you son of a bitch. Truth or dare?" Jeff laughs through deep breaths.

"Hey man, all I did was supply the sauce. Henderson's the one who dared you. But, truth." Eddie smirks, certain there's nothing he'd be too scared to admit.

"Why do all the models in the Playboys you buy look like Mike's mom?" Jeff asks smugly. The entire room erupts into laughter, except for Mike.

"Come on, guys," Mike groans.

"To be fair, Mrs. Wheeler is a dime." You add, fueling Mike's discomfort.

"I'm gonna claim it's completely coincidental." Eddie chuckles.

"Yeah, right. We've all seen Mike's mom," Gareth starts, causing Mike to groan yet again. "It doesn't really take much to set you off, man."

"Yeah honestly anything with a pussy and a pulse could probably find a way into Eddie's bed." Jeff laughs.

"That's a lie. Y/N has a pussy probably and I've never wanted to fuck her. She's one of the guys, it just can't happen." He sits with a proud look on his face as if he proved anything.

"Probably?" You repeat to yourself as you lift your waistband, making sure she's still down there. Eddie picks Gareth and dares him to call his mom posing as a toaster repair service. It goes to hell and she hangs up furiously. The trailer nearly shakes with drunken laughter.

"Y/N, truth or dare?" Gareth points to you across the living room.

"Uh, dare, I guess." You chuckle, eager to see what bullshit they're gonna have you attempt.

"I dare you to turn Eddie on." Gareth grins wickedly, aware that Eddie just said it couldn't be done.

"Good luck, bud. It's gonna be like having Jeff try to get in my pants." Eddie jokes.

"Alright, lemme give it a try." You lean over to Eddie, cupping your hand around his ear as you begin to whisper.

"You have no idea how many times I've touched myself while imagining you throat fucking me as hard as you can, forcing yourself into my throat while tears fall down my face." You start. "I think about the way your cock would twitch inside me while you came in my tight, little pussy. And then I'd finger myself afterward, just to taste us mixed together." You let your breath wash over Eddie's neck before you pulled away.

Eddie's eyes widen in shock. The room fills with boyish giggles as his cheeks become a rosy color.

"Jesus, Y/N. What'd you say to him?" Gareth slaps his hands together once, laughing with everyone else. Eddie is stunned, unable to look at you for a moment, and unable to speak.

"I dunno, but I don't need to see him pitch a tent to know I did it." You smirk proudly, relishing in the buzzed confidence.

Jesus Christ Eddie thinks to himself. He racks his brain for a single memory that could be warned him you'd never be capable of saying something like that.

"Mike, truth or dare?" You somewhat slur.

"Please don't make it about my mom," He begs.

"Truth or dare, Wheeler? C'mon." You bypass his request, gesturing for him to give you an answer.

"Ugh, truth."

"Does your mom still have that necklace? The golden charm with a strangely placed pearl?" You fight to contain your laughter.

"Yeah, I think so. Why?" Mike furrows his brow.

"You guys, Mike's mom has one of those pussy necklaces. It's like fancy, but it's meant to look like a vag. I swear to God." You describe it to them, and they all confirm they've seen it.

"Guys, seriously?" Mike whines.

"Your mom fucks, Mike. Get over it. Don't dull her shine." You turn up your beer as punctuation on your sentence.

"I'm not dulling her shine, I just don't want to hear about it!" He throws a pillow at you, laughing. "And she's married! I have a dad!"

"Show off." Gareth jokes. The rest of the night is full of laughter and more Mike's Mom Jokes than anyone could've really prepared for. Eddie stays much quieter, eventually excusing himself to the bathroom.

The second the door was shut, a deep, desperate sigh escaped his mouth. Drunk and hornier than he thought possible, he splashes water in his face a few times before finally giving in and fucking his fist in the bathroom. He replays your breathy whispers over and over, cumming faster than he ever has.

A wave of shame washes over him as he reassesses what just happened. He chocks it up to being drunk, and you being pretty. Sure, she's always been hot. We're still just pals, though. I'm just a horny drunk. He reasons with himself.

The next day, Eddie wakes up with morning wood. His dreams were consumed by thoughts of your soft lips brushing against his ear as you spoke. He covers his eyes with his hands and groans. Something in him wants to be ashamed of how perverted he's being, but it's your fault, right? He strokes himself until he finishes, quietly mumbling your name as he does.

Usually, when Eddie was feeling particularly pervy, he could satiate the thoughts by cumming. But it wasn't working this time. Desperate just to hear your voice, he calls you.

"C'mon. Pick up, pick up..." He twirls the spiral phone cord around his finger, but your phone goes to voicemail. You got pretty drunk, it's no wonder you're still asleep at- he checks the clock- 6 AM?! No wonder it's still dark outside. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth, hatching an idea.

On the weekends, your parents go out of town for business. Because of this, Eddie knows various ways of entering your house, for friendly reasons, of course. Until now. He gets dressed and heads out his trailer door to his van. He's speeding, actually speeding to get to you faster.

Your front door is locked, as he would expect. So he treks around the side of your one-story house to your bedroom window. He reaches his ring-clad fingers to the window pane, carefully drawing closer, face stiff with focus.

The lamp next to your bed is still on, a clear indication of how drunk you were when you went to bed. The dim light illuminates Eddie's dark figure outside the glass. He reaches to open the window, as he had plenty of times before regardless of you being asleep or awake, but then he stops.

He notices the way you're laying in your bed. Face down, one leg straight and the other bent and hiked up next to you. Your arms wrap around the pillow under your head. His eyes fix on your sleep shorts, the way they've ridden up, exposing the entire bottom half of your ass cheeks.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N. What did you do to me?" He grunts, palming himself through his jeans. He finally reaches for the window and slides it open, not caring if you wake up or not. It wouldn't be the first time you woke up to him in your room. It would, however, be the first time Eddie rummaged through your panty drawer.

He cataloged every fabric and style in his mind, imagining the way each pair would look on your round hips. He then spots a pair sitting at the top of your laundry hamper. A sexy silk thong with embroidered text that reads "Eat Me." He already knows exactly which sex shop you got them from.

Without thought or reservation, he lifts the underwear to his face, inhaling your scent. He tangles his fingers in the smooth fabric as his jeans tighten. He's brutally shaken from his lustful trance when he hears you shift on the bed. He shoves the panties into his back pocket and adjusts himself the best he can.

"Mmm, hey man. What time is it?" You mumble in a raspy voice that makes Eddie's cock twitch.

"I uh, I'm not sure." He scratches his neck nervously, hoping you don't check the clock right next to you.

"Hell yeah." You reply, as if to the wrong conversation. You're back asleep not long after. A sigh of relief falls over Eddie. He gently creeps up to you in your bed, placing a light-as-a-feather hand over your skin where your skimpy shorts didn't cover. Goosebumps flood your skin under his gentle grazes.

He grips his bulge, desperate to calm the raging erection in his pants. He imagines waking you up by slipping his throbbing cock inside you. The way you'd moan and clench around him, pulling him deeper and deeper inside you with every full-force thrust. Drool threatens to fall from his lips before he snaps out of it, and steps away.

As many weird kinks and fantasies as he has, he's never felt this out of control. He bites his fist, searching for any sensation besides the burning need to fuck you while you sleep. He shakes the thoughts from his mind the best he can before collapsing in your giant bean bag chair, falling back asleep.

Eddie wakes up to the sound of you clinking around in your bathroom. Doing your make-up and brushing your teeth. He can't recall his dream, but glued to the inside of his eyelids is the image of you looking up at him with his dick in your mouth.

"Fuuuuuck." He groans aloud.

"You okay?" You pop your head out the door. Eddie stares at you for a moment, unable to reply. "Eddie?"

"Yeah, haha. Sorry, hungover." He throws on a convincing nonchalant smirk. You're none the wiser.

"I'll be ready in just a second. Hope I haven't made you wait too long!" You call from the bathroom. Eddie stands from the comfy bean bag and stretches. He idly slides his hands in his back pockets, rediscovering the panties he's "borrowing" from you. He stuffs them deeper into his pocket when he hears you coming.

You emerge from the bathroom, a trail of light floral, expensive-smelling perfume in your wake. The scent fills Eddie's senses, causing his eyelashes to flutter.

"What's the plan for today, dude?" You ask innocently.

"I dunno. I figured we could play it by ear." He shrugs.

"Is it hot outside today?" You ask, holding up a pair of the shortest cut-offs Eddie has ever seen. Without missing a beat, he replies.

"Yup. High 90s I've heard." He doesn't watch the weather channel. You huff and disappear to the bathroom once again to change. It never occurred to Eddie how slutty you dress outside of school until now. You were notorious for tiny skirts and mesh body suits. The thought of any of your previous "going out" outfits that he once looked over makes him nearly jizz in his pants.

You emerge again from the bathroom, long legs fully on display. Eddie can't help but imagine how well they'd fit over his shoulders. He shakes his head, expelling his thoughts, or at least trying to.

"Oh! We should go to this new little ice cream shop downtown." You suggest, knowing Eddie would never turn down food after he smokes. You spark up a joint and pass it to him, his hand shakes as he grazes against your fingers. "You sure you're okay, man?"

"I'm fine, just waiting for you all morning." He quickly attempts to cover up his anxious horniness. "But ice cream sounds awesome, let's go." The two of you take a couple more hits off the joint and you tap the roach out into your ashtray.

In his van, Eddie can't help but watch the way your chest bounces with every bump and pothole he hits. He nonchalantly begins swerving into them, hoping for bigger potholes to shake you more.

"Jeez, they let this road go to hell, didn't they?" You criticize.

"Right? What are we even paying taxes for?" He jokes. You're the only person in the group with a job and it's only 2 days a week for 4 hours per shift at the arcade. Eddie continues to stare at your chest, side eyeing every jiggle. He imagines how they'd bounce while he's shoving his cock into you.

He quickly shakes his thoughts away, just barely missing a curb as he pulled into the ice cream shop parking lot.

"This place better be delicious or I'm never trusting you to pick breakfast again." His voice is playful and he seems to be a bit more handsy than usual. He's no stranger to physical contact with his pals, but he can't help himself with you. Poking and teasing you as much as he can, just to feel your soft skin.

"Oh man, I didn't realize this is kinda breakfast for us." You giggle.

You order your ice creams, you pick your trusty favorite flavor and Eddie tries something that looks like it should've never been frozen, let alone scooped.

"Oh my God, it tastes like grass." Your face scrunches in disgust.

"Yeah, I don't know why I thought something this dark green would taste good." Eddie digs through his cup of strange frozen dairy attempting to distract himself from the way your pierced, pink tongue travels from the cone to the tip of your ice cream.

Suppressing a moan, he reaches into his pocket, running his rough, calloused fingers over the soft silk of your panties.

"Y/N, about um, yesterday. What you said during truth or dare." Eddie starts.

"Oh shit, sorry man. I was getting super buzzed by that point. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable or anything." You reach a hand out to his, hoping you didn't cross a line last night.

"Oh God, no. You didn't do anything. I uh, I was just wondering if," he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "If you meant it."

Your cheeks flash hot as you remember exactly what you whispered to him. None of it was a lie or even an exaggeration, but you couldn't read his tone well enough to admit it.

"Oh, God no. We're like best buds." Now you're the nervous one.

"Right, yeah. Of course." He chuckles, fixing his eyes on his green frozen treat. The ride back to your house is awkward and sexually tense, but you can't tell if it's you or him. The tension evaporates slowly throughout the day until Eddie is once again alone in his trailer.

He lays in his bed, stroking himself with your panties pressed firmly against his nose. Vulgarly, he moans your name into the silk as he cums.

"Fuck." He groans as more as more images of you cloud his mind. Every time you've ever bent over to grab something. Every time you've had to readjust your tiny, barely-there tube top. Finally, he can't take it anymore, and he stalks to the house phone to call you, hoping you're still awake.

The second his fingers graze the phone, it rings.

"Hello?" Eddie rubs the sleep from his eyes.

"Hey." It's you.

"Woah, I was just about to call you." He laughs, relieved just to hear your voice.

"Yeah? What for?" You stall.

"We'll get to that when you tell me what you called for." Eddie smirks.

"Oh, I uh... I couldn't sleep so I was wondering if you'd come smoke with me."

"Wow, calling me for free weed? Low." He jokes before agreeing and hanging up.

Back at your house, you find yourself becoming nervous. You really did call because you couldn't sleep, but like the whore you are, the real reason was just hoping to be around Eddie for a little longer.

"Knock, knock." He vocalizes while knocking on your window. He climbs through and passes you an already lit joint. You take it graciously and take a long drag, hoping to calm your nerves. "Can't sleep, huh?"

"Nah. You too?" You pass the joint back to him.

"No, I just- I was working on the next campaign." He's lying. He has at least two adventures queued up at all times.

"No banshees, I hope." You eyeball him, taking the joint from his hands.

"No, no banshees this time." He smiles, enveloping you in his shining, dark brown eyes. He paces around your room, scanning your knick knacks as he usually did before sitting on the side of your bed with you.

You're so close to him, your soft thigh nearly brushes against his. You pass him the joint, but his distracted hands fumble and drop it on your carpeted floor.

"Shit," he snaps as he quickly leans down to grab the burning joint. You notice something in his pocket, aside from his regular bandanna. It's a familiar black silk with red lettering. Your underwear.

"Eddie," you furrowed your brow, still staring at the cloth in his pocket. "Are those my panties?" His face instantly turns red. He quickly straightens back up on the bed, wide eyed, unable to find an excuse.

"I uh, I-" he stutters, certain you'll never talk to him again after this.

"Have you been... carrying these around?" You question. Eddie raises an eyebrow noticing the tone if your voice sounds excited, not accusatory.

"I just-" he starts, but you cut him off.

"Have you been touching yourself, holding my panties?" A wicked grin spreads across your face. You begin to lean forward, confidently. Eddie's breathing gets heavier as you draw closer, filling his nostrils with the sickly sweet scent of your perfume.

"I don't know what you did to me the other night, Y/N. But I haven't been able to stop thinking about it." He huffs, inches away from your lips.

"Good, because I fucking meant it." You tease in a whisper before connecting your lips to his. A desperate moan vibrates against your mouth as Eddie firmly wraps his arms around you. His fingertips dig into any skin they find. He clings to you, pulling you closer and closer until you're in his lap, grinding against his bulge.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" He questions you between kisses.

"I dunno, I was fine with my fantasies. You're the one that couldn't help himself, you fucking pervert." You moan the last word against his lips, causing his eyes to roll back. He knew you were right.

He slips his hands under your shirt, sliding them up your back. He brings them to your breasts, running his thumbs over your hard nipples.

"No bra?" He licks his lips, focusing on the movements of his hands over your skin. Soft moans fly from your lips as his hands get rougher and rougher the longer he toys with you. He suddenly shifts and throws you back into your pillows. "I am going to fucking ruin you." Eddie grins.

He swiftly and easily swipes your shorts and panties off in one go, stuffing the new pair of underwear in his pocket proudly. Without much warning, he dives his tongue directly into your dripping cunt. You both moan on contact, your eyes rolling back as his tongue found every single angle that made you want to scream.

He digs his nails into your thighs, pulling you more and more into him. He eats you out until you're almost literally seeing stars. Having came at least twice since he started.

"Eddie, please!" You yelp as you pull at his frizzy hair, desperate to be fucked.

"Shhh, doll." He coos from between your legs. His lips and chin are glossy from your arousal. "I want you to show me what your mouth can do, first."

Eddie withdraws from you, leaving your cunt begging for contact. Whiney moans escape you as you buck your hips against nothing. He stands and pulls his pants down to his knees before sitting back down on the bed. Instinctively, you slid into the floor on your knees in front of where he sits. The perfect height for your mouth to wrap around his cock.

You playfully refuse to open your mouth at first, but Eddie grips the hair on the back of your head and your bottom jaw, forcing your lips open for him. His grip remains on your hair, guiding your head up and down his shaft. You meticulously work your aforementioned tongue ring against his flesh, earning loud, vulgar moans.

"Jesus, fuck Y/N." He breathes as you hollow your cheeks around him, pulling your mouth off with a pop. You rub his head back and forth across the ball of your piercing, watching him squirm as you stimulate the sensitive skin. With one more loud growl, Eddie tugs your hair, signaling you to stand.

He switches your places, shoving you against the bed, ass up with your head shoved into the sheets. He pumps his middle finger into your on-display pussy. The cold of his rings biting against your entrance. You can't help but moan loudly, almost screaming just from his fingers.

"We can't have all that." Eddie chuckles as he reaches into his pocket and retrieves the underwear you were wearing not long ago. He balls them up and stuffs them into your whining mouth, muffling your moans. "That's better."

He strokes himself a few times before lining himself up and sinking into you slowly. Long, breathy moans emit from his chest as he thrusts over and over. By now, you're screaming into the wad of fabric in your mouth, drool pooling at your lips as you let the lust envelope your entire body.

You've had fantasies, of course. But nothing could've prepared you for the real thing. He continues to thrust into you, gently playing with your clit until you're squirming so much, that he can't hold you still.

He promptly removes himself from you, flipping you on your back. He reaches for the hem of your shirt, tearing it away from you.

"You are un-fucking-real." Eddie smirks as he marvels over your fully exposed body waiting, legs spread, just for him. In the blink of an eye, he's back inside you. Thrusting as hard as he can to make your tits bounce like they did in the van. You claw and grip at the sheets, eventually spitting the panties from your mouth to beg.

"Eddie, please, I'm- I'm gonna-"

"Not yet." He snaps.

"Eddie!"

"Not. Fucking. Yet." Each word punctuated by another hard thrust. His thrusts slowly became sloppy and offbeat. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a loud cry as you finish, flooding his cock and pelvis. Eddie follows suit, throwing his head back as his dick twitches inside you, warmth flooding in your lower abdomen as he fills you with cum.

"E-Eddie..." You stutter as he's still fucking you, slowly riding out his orgasm. He collapses on top of you, still inside. His heavy breathing in sync with yours.

"God damn, dude." He gasps before slipping out of you. You close your eyes, relishing in the relief when he plummets another finger in your throbbing hole.

"Eddie!" You yelp, arching your back at the sudden contact. He chuckles, bringing the finger to your mouth, coated in each of your cum. You sensually lick his finger clean, watching as his eyes roll back.

"C'mere. Let me help you get cleaned up." Eddie extends a hand to you. You take it and stand on two wobbly legs as you attempt to make it to your bathroom. Cum leaks down your struggling legs with each step. Eddie helps you draw a bath and clean up before you both collapse on your bed.

"Here," you huff, passing him another joint.

"I think you're my dream girl." Eddie stares at you with his big, puppy dog eyes. "Seriously."

"About time you noticed, Munson."

The next Friday rolls around and the club torments you both relentlessly.

"Oh, don't worry. We know Y/N completed her dare." Gareth snorts.

"What does that mean?" You question, already blushing.

"I mean my house is right across from yours and I could see Eddie watching you through your window. Didn't look like his hands were praying." The curly headed guy laughs.

"Watching me?" You furrow your brow, growing slightly wet at the thought.

"Never mind that, it's time for Dungeons and Dragons. Bow to your Dungeon Master and kiss the rings." Eddie announces.

"No way, those have probably been inside Y/N's pussy." Jeff laughs, earning a playful arm punch from you.

"They have been in her pussy, that's what makes it oh so cool to kiss them." He winks at you, kissing the ring on his middle finger. The rest of the club groans and rolls their eyes.

•

(Bonus points if you got that Righteous Gemstones reference.)

[ailendolin]

Thanktival 2022 - Day 5 - Yonderland

Title: Missing Pieces [AO3]

Characters: Cake Lady Edith/Cake Lady Lynn/ Cake Lady Sue

Prompt: Cake Bake by the Lake

Summary: Edith learns about one of Lynn and Sue's Thanktival traditions and finds her place in their relationship.

A/N: Since we celebrate Christmas on the 24th here in Germany - merry Christmas and happy Thanktival to you all!

————

Missing Pieces

The first year Edith celebrated Thanktival with Sue and Lynn, she’d expected the usual: trees with googly eyes, Chompus decorations, sparkly garlands and presents that were thoughtful but would ultimately remain unopened.

What she had not expected was to find Lynn in the kitchen the day before Thanktival eve, baking cookies in numbers that would feed an entire army. Two, perhaps.

“Is there a competition happening I don’t know about?” Edith asked cautiously as she placed her last minute shopping down on the floor since every other surface was currently covered in cookies.

Lynn looked at her over her shoulder and chuckled. “Oh no, no competition, dear. These are for Sue’s kids.”

Edith froze. Sue’s kids? Since when did Sue–?

“Oh,” she said faintly, trying to wrap her mind around this new piece of information. “I – I had no idea. I didn’t get them anything for Thanktival …”

She looked down at the cabbage in her hand, feeling a little lost.

“Oh Edith, no,” Lynn said softly. A moment later, her hand was on Edith’s shoulder, gently turning her around. “I thought Sue had told you – they’re not her actual kids. More like … foster brothers and sisters.”

Foster siblings, Edith thought numbly. She hadn’t even known that Sue had brothers and sisters. How could she not have known?

“Here, sit down, love. You’re looking a little pale around the nose,” Lynn said and pulled out a chair for her. Then she crouched down in front of it and reached for her hands. “I’m really sorry about springing this on you like this. I thought you knew.”

Edith could only numbly shake her head. This kept happening – her feeling adrift because Lynn and Sue had forgotten to share something with her, something that was such an integral part of their lives that it didn’t even cross their minds to mention it. She kept finding out these things by accident, and while a part of her understood that this wasn’t an easy situation for Lynn and Sue either, she sometimes felt like she was standing on the outside looking in on something she should be a part of.

Right now was one of those moments despite Lynn’s attempts to put her mind at ease.

“Hey,” Lynn said softly, accentuating her words by squeezing Edith’s hands. “We did not keep this from you on purpose, Edith. I promise.”

Edith forced a smile onto her face. “I know. It’s all right.”

Lynn heaved a heavy sigh. “No, it’s not. We’ll talk to Sue about it when she comes home, okay?”

“We don’t have to,” Edith hurried to say. When Lynn frowned at her, she added in a whisper, “I don’t want to ruin our first Thanktival together.”

She dropped her eyes to their clasped hands, noticing for the first time that Lynn’s were lightly covered in flour.

“You’re not ruining anything,” Lynn promised softly. “We’re the ones who keep messing up.”

Edith bit her lip. Lynn’s words were meant to be reassuring but they had the opposite effect on her. She had been quietly worrying for a while now that Lynn and Sue might grow tired of having to accommodate her, might end this wonderful, tentative thing between them before it had really had a chance to bloom. Her presence clearly overcomplicated things and Edith wouldn’t blame them for wanting things to go back to normal. She certainly wasn’t worth all the–

Her panicking thoughts screeched to a halt when Lynn’s lips firmly pressed against her own

“We love you,” Lynn said with a confidence Edith couldn’t help but marble at when she pulled back. “And we want you to know everything, Edith. Every little detail there is to know. I promise.”

“Okay,” Edith breathed, still feeling a little dazed. She let Lynn cradle her cheek for a moment, spreading flour over her skin, before she felt brave enough to ask, “Can I … can I help with the cookies?”

“Of course,” Lynn smiled, looking relieved.

They worked quietly side by side for the next hour or so until the front door opened with a creak that heralded Sue’s arrival.

“Something smells delicious,” she called from the hallway.

“She always says that,” Lynn whispered fondly.

Edith barely managed a smile in return as she put down the sprinkles and wiped her shaking hands on her apron. When Sue came into the kitchen, she greeted them both with a kiss like she always did before she snatched a cookie from one of the trays. “Tastes just as delicious as it smells. You’ve outdone yourself again, Lynn.”

Lynn pointedly cleared her throat. “Edith helped.”

Sue glanced from her to Edith and seemed to falter for a moment when Edith didn’t meet her eyes.

“Thank you, Edith,” she said at last, obviously having realised that something was wrong but being not quite sure what exactly.

“Edith was also wondering who all those cookies were for,” Lynn continued despite the awkwardness that suddenly hung heavily in the air.

It took a heartbeat or two for the penny to drop.

“Oh,” Sue said softly. “Oh, Edith, I’m so sorry. I meant to tell you but–“

“You forgot, I know,” Edith finished for her. Not wanting to start a fight, she swallowed around the lump in her throat and added, “It’s okay. Lynn already explained.”

She didn’t see the look Lynn and Sue shared over her head but she sure felt them taking one of her hands each and leading her into the living room. While Lynn went to one of their drawers, Sue sat down on the sofa with her, still holding her hand with the gentlest, most loving of touches that made Edith’s heart beat just a little bit faster.

“My parents died when I was very young,” Sue began quietly as Lynn handed her a photo album. “After their deaths, I was taken to a place for children like me – orphans. It was run by a lovely lady called Nanny La Roo. She took me in without question and cared for me until I was old enough to do so myself. Here, that’s me with her just shortly after I arrived.”

She opened the photo album to the very first page. The picture showed a young child, three years old at most, being gently held by someone that must be Nanny La Roo.

“She did her best to give us all the best childhood we could possibly have under the circumstances,” Sue continued. “Then one day one of us went missing and things … changed. Nanny struggled with that loss – a lot. She became scared of the outside world, of what it could do to us, and began to keep us inside more and more often until eventually, we weren’t allowed outside at all anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Edith said softly.

Sue gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. She gave us a home and there was love in it, Edith, so much love. I’m grateful for that and for everything else she has done for me. It isn’t easy, you know, the job she has. Not with the amount of orphans there are today thanks to Imperatrix.”

On her left, Lynn reached for Edith’s hand. “The cookies are our way of helping out and giving a little something back. Sue also buys presents for all the kids every year because Nanny can’t really afford that many.”

“We call it Pre-Thanktival,” Sue added with a smile as she leafed through the photo album.

Nanny La Roo had taken care to document all the major milestones of her life: Sue’s first day in school and then, a few pages later, her first day of homeschooling that must mark the time when the child had gone missing. There was the first painting Sue had ever made, her very first cake and finally, her first music lesson.

“I didn’t know you could play the piano,” Edith said, feeling like she’d just uncovered another piece of Sue she hadn’t even known had been missing.

To her surprise, Sue chuckled. “That’s because I can’t. Nanny realised that very quickly.”

Together, they watched Sue grow into a young lady until a shaky handwritten note on the top of a page declared, Sue’s last day. That wasn’t the end, though. With a smile, Sue turned the page over, revealing her first day as a baker’s apprentice. Pictures of all the placed she’d lived in over the next few years followed, the friends she’d made – Lynn. And then suddenly Edith was looking down at her own face in a group picture someone had taken at the baking competition where she’d first met Lynn and Sue. She was standing in the last row, almost hidden in the shadows and barely noticeable in the crowd but she was there.

The final pages of the album that showed the blossoming of their friendship as well as the blooming of Lynn and Sue’s relationship, and when Sue reached the very last page, Edith felt her eyes well up. A shaky picture of the three of them that Lynn had somehow managed to take while kissing Edith’s cheek was glued to it with obvious care. Sue was mirroring Lynn on Edith’s other side and Edith – Edith was smiling so brightly at the camera that she felt her cheeks hurt at the memory even now.

Under the picture, Sue had written a date and a single line in her neat handwriting: The start of the rest of our lives.

“Is that … is that truly how you felt that day?” Edith whispered.

Sue squeezed her hand.

“It’s how I feel every day when I look at you, Edith.” She glanced at Lynn. “When I look at both of you. I might not be the best at showing it but I am so incredibly grateful to have you both in my life.”

Edith swallowed hard and let her eyes trail reverently over the photograph. There was so much happiness in it, so much love, that she felt like her heart might burst.

Sue pressed a kiss into her hair. “Would you join us later? When we go and visit Nanny?”

“Can I?” Edith asked in a trembling voice, still not daring to hope. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Sue smiled and pulled her close. “You were always meant to come with us.”

On her other side, Edith felt Lynn’s finger brush a stray strand of hair out of her face. “Nanny will be so excited to meet you.”

“She knows about me?” Edith breathed in wonder.

“Oh yes,” Sue laughed. “She realised we needed you long before we did.”

When Edith looked at Lynn for confirmation, Lynn nodded. “Apparently, we didn’t stop talking about you.”

She and Sue shared a fond, knowing look. For perhaps the first time since she became a part of their relationship Edith didn’t mind not being privy to their thoughts. “Well, as long as she and the children won’t mind be tagging along ...”

“They won’t,” Sue whispered. “They’ll love you – just like we do.” “So much,” Lynn added softly and then they were kissing her, just like they were in the photo, and Edith closed her eyes, her heart overflowing with happiness.

[firstdegreefangirl]

June 2023 Reading Wrap-Up!

Halfway through the year, and I'm excited to report that I'm either on track or ahead of all my reading goals for 2023! I've just got to focus more on reading books I already have, instead of buying new ones. Should be easy enough, right? ;-)

As always, stats up here, mini reviews under the cut. Click through to see what had me swearing at my empty living room at 1:30 a.m.

Total books read: 7 

Total pages read: 1,816 

Days read: 23/30 

Average star rating: 4.33/5 

Challenge Prompts Filled: 13 in June; 66 total. Popsugar: 6(23)/40.   Romanceopoly: 3 (18)/36. CRAD: 1(6)/12. BTBL: 3(19)/52 

Happy Singles Day by Ann Marie Walker 

⭐⭐⭐⭐(¼) 

This was cute! I picked it up on a whim, when I found myself with some free time at the big library branch across town, because I liked the idea of a romance novel celebrating singlehood. I liked watching the MC figure out who she is outside of her job, and her love interest was such a compelling dude. Between his daughter and his sister, and his bed and breakfast, he really made the story for me. It wasn’t quite grumpy/sunshine, because Lucas opens up as things progress, but something about his reluctance to even be invovled in the story at all really entertained me. The only thing I’d say really bugged me was the dog. Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs. Like, so much. But the cover has a picture of a little terrier shaped pup, and then the text describes the dog as a “pit bull/boxer mix,” and it drove me nuts every step of the way. A little detail, maybe, but the discrepancy really threw me off. 

Prompts filled: Popsugar – A book about a vacation 

Summer on Blackberry Beach by Belle Calhoune 

⭐⭐⭐(¾) 

What a fun little summer read! I’ll admit, I was expecting there to be some sort of Christmassy detail, given that the town is called Mistletoe, but once I got past that, this was so delightful! I grabbed it from a book thrift store while my friend was in town visiting, after the teacher/Navy SEAL fake dating plot caught both of our attentions. I liked watching the characters learn how to move past their respective losses, and that they communicated really effectively through much of the story. Too many times, the plotline falls apart if the characters would just have like one mature conversation, so I really enjoyed that they did that here and the story held up. It was refreshing to watch these characters grow together and find the futures they didn’t think they deserved. 

Prompts filled: Popsugar – About a holiday that’s not Christmas; Romanceopoly – Soldier Street/One of the MCs are in the military 

Biting Through The Skin: An Indian Kitchen In America’s Heartland by Nina Mukerjee Furstenau 

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

I’ve had this on my shelf for … probably two years now? At least a year and a half; I’m pretty sure I bought it at the library fall book sale on Fill A Bag day. Food as a vessel for culture has always interested me, and the idea of a memoir pairing Indian food with Midwest culture (where I’ve lived my entire life) was particularly fascinating. Turns out the author spent most of her childhood like three hours from where I grew up/live, in the same small town where one of my friends is from! Every chapter includes stories about the Indian foods that flavor her memories, and the recipes are at the ends of the chapters. I haven’t cooked any of them yet, but maybe someday! The essays were heartfelt and compelling, like I could feel myself in the kitchen right alongside the author and her family, with the warm, hearty spices and sentimental stories.  

Popsugar – favorite prompt from past challenge (2022 – a book with a recipe in it); BTBL – Epistolary/unusual writing style (recipes) 

Darcy by RJ Scott, Meredith Russell 

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

At some point, I got this for free on my Kindle, and it got the callup this month for being something short enough that I could read it in a couple of days, but compelling enough to hold my attention (also, for having a five-letter title!). I’m admittedly a sucker for fake dating-turned-romance, but usually the “dating” couple is the endgame, so it was interesting to read a story that turned the trope on its head. Darcy and Adrian had such an instant attraction, but more than just sexually. I loved seeing them open up to each other, and how supportive Darcy was through the whole story, of both Adrian and his sister, and especially at the ending. I’m definitely planning to pick up the rest of the series at some point.  

BTBL – less than 170 pages; CRAD – half as many letters as May; Popsugar – Forbidden Romance; Romanceopoly – Passion Place/slow burn or instant heat contemporary romance 

The Water Baby by Roz Denney Fox 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

Finally, I got back around to reading this for the first time in … 15 years or so? I don’t remember exactly when I read it for the first time, but I do remember picking it up from my mom’s book stack when I was probably too young for Harlequin romance novels. I liked it then, and saved it from a garage sale pile a few years later. It’s well-loved and rough around the edges, but the best books always are. Luckily, it’s just as good now as it was years ago, and absolutely worth the shelf space for all this time. 

Prompts filled: BTBL – released at least 23 years ago; Popsugar – Set in the decade you were born 

Egghead: or, you can’t survive on ideas alone by Bo Burnham 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

I don’t have much to say about this one that I haven’t said before. I love poetry, I love Bo Burnham, and some of my favorite poems ever are in this book (look at you, The Letter!). This particular reread was just shy of an hour, sitting on the floor of my denbrary, looking for something to spark inspiration for an upcoming writing project I'm trying to plan. I’m not sure yet, but I think I figured it out, at that! 

Prompts filled: None 

The Last Flight by Julie Clark 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

Fuck this book. Five stars. I’m writing this right about an hour after I finished devouring the book in three days. Mostly two days – the first day I only had time to read like the first chapter. Usually, I’m not one for thrillers, but this caught my eye at the same thrift store as Blackberry Beach up above. Once I realized it’s a signed copy, and was only three dollars, I basically had to give it a try. And holy HELL, am I glad I did! I was sucked in from the first few pages, absolutely enthralled right down to the end. In fact, on page 142, I actively shouted “what the fuuuuuuck?!?” out loud to my empty apartment. It’s that sort of a book. I had a loose suspicion of how it would end, but there were a lot of things I didn’t see coming. I’d KILL to see this one as a movie, and I’m absolutely going to read the author’s other thrillers. Sometimes, there’s a benefit to stepping outside my wheelhouse, because I have a feeling this is going to be a top 10 for 2023.  

Prompts filled: Popsugar – A book about divorce; Romanceopoly – Killer Crescent/a thriller of your choice 

[lovetorn]

secret santa — chains!au [dream]

Dream x Fem!Reader Chains!AU — original fic here

Chains!AU masterlist

Summary: Secret Santa with the OT4. 

Warnings: as always, a lot of swearing, & some steamy sections but nothing too hot. 

Word Count: 3.6k+

A/N: AHHH ITS FINALLY HERE!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!! AND HAPPY HANUKKAH TO ANYONE WHO CELEBRATES IT!!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND LOVE THIS AS MUCH AS I DO!!!

The letter from Technoblade was extremely vague. He had ordered for a meeting as soon as possible and seeing as it was a week until Christmas, his employees dreaded the occasion. 

Y/n, George, Sapnap and Dream dragged their feet towards the entrance of Techno’s mansion. The vast white house took up most of one’s eye line, with the building’s tall white pillars signalling the importance of the man who lived there. Sapnap wore a permanent pout on the journey there and continued to do so until the group stood in the elegant ballroom in the middle bottom floor of the mansion. 

“If we get yelled at, I’m leaving.” George threw Sapnap a bored look, silently telling him to shut up as the last of their associates entered. Techno was nowhere to be seen, as usual, but the anticipation—dread—of knowing the situation, had Dream on edge. He was more snappy than normal and he wore a hard expression that not even Y/n could crack. 

“It’s Christmas, what the fuck could he possibly want?” Dream spat, crossing his arms over his chest. Y/n peered at him and placed her hand on his bicep. The touch made Dream snap his head towards her, his eyes slightly softening at the sight of her. “Sorry.”

Y/n shook her head, “It’s okay to be angry.” Dream dragged the side of his mouth between his teeth in annoyance. The sound of someone clearing their throat caused the room to fall silent. 

“You’re probably wondering why I called you here this close to Christmas.” Techno’s deep voice bounced off the walls. The statement made George, Sapnap and Dream nod exaggeratedly. 

“I suppose I’ll get on with it then; I’ve decided to host a Secret Santa for Techno Industries this year!” At the sound of nothing life-threatening, Dream’s eyes widened. His head on a swivel, he looked at Y/n and then the boys. His mouth had fallen open and the outline of a smile began forming on his cheeks. The rare sight of Dream grinning in Techno’s presence was satisfying; who would’ve guessed something as trivial as Secret Santa would break his streak of sternness during in these meetings. 

“I have already picked out your partners, so check your phones for the person you’ll be buying for,” It was exceptionally out of character for Techno to be so joyful, but perhaps the holiday season had brought his spirits up. “Have a great evening, everybody! Happy Christmas! And Happy Hanukkah for those who celebrate it!” 

The high-pitched dings of phone notifications prompted everybody to check them. Fishing her phone from her purse, Y/n looked at the screen, Sapnap. A smile broke out across her face as she looked around the group. 

She met George’s gaze, who also wore a grin. Looking at Dream and then Sapnap, she realised they were all beaming. She furrowed her eyebrows quickly when all four of them were eyeing each other, knowing something was up.

“Tell me, Y/n, did you happen to get someone in this group?” Sapnap asked, his smile growing even more when she nodded. “I did too,” Dream said, followed by George, “Yeah same.” 

“Guys! We got each other! Almost looks like it was rigged.” Sapnap‘s eyebrows raised whilst a smirk etched its way on his face. 

George eyeballed him, “Sapnap, how did you know this was even happening? Anyway, that defeats the entire purpose of secret Santa in the first place. How did you even manage to do this?” Sapnap scrunched his face up, “So many questions and no answers! A magician never reveals his secrets. Plus, nobody actually cares, Georgie; get a life.” 

A look of confusion and irritation crossed George’s face as he threw his hands up. Dream stifled a laugh with his fist and Y/n smiled softly, not wanting to annoy George further. 

“Anywho… who got me?”

y/n, i need your help.  idk what to buy dream.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she received the messages from Sapnap. She set down the bowl she held in the kitchen of the team’s penthouse apartment in San Diego and picked up her phone to respond. 

your problem. 

Reading her text, Sapnap groaned out loud and falsely cried; he knew if he was loud enough, somebody would come to his aid. He sat on his bed in his room, the clock ticking mockingly in the background. He spun around to scowl at it before he was startled by Dream—wrong person!

“What’s wrong now, Snapmap?” Dream asked. The younger boy stilled and turned back to see the older boy standing in the doorway. “N-Nothing!”

Dream furrowed his eyebrows, “Has this got to do with the present thing?” Sapnap nodded stiffly. The breeze from the open window drifted through the room and Sapnap begged for something outside to distract Dream. 

“Well, I can probably help you, who have you got?” Dream walked to the bed where Sapnap sat. “George?” His answer sounded more like a question as Dream’s face scrunched in confusion. Sapnap’s paranoid essence told Dream not to push any further, but he found the situation at hand funnier than it should've been. 

“I’ve got George.” Sapnap reddened and shot up from his spot. “I gotta go.” 

Dream watched his friend rush out of the room, a lopsided smile made its way onto his face. He glanced out of the window, the birds flying past distracting him for a moment before he snorted a laugh and made his way downstairs. 

—

“I fucked it, he knows I don’t have George, because he does!” Sapnap rambled to Y/n quietly in the kitchen. Y/n tried her best not to giggle at his panic and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Sapnap. Clay’s not smart enough to figure it out himself.” 

“Hey!” Sapnap’s eyes widened at the sound of Dream’s voice and threw his hand up at Y/n before he exited. 

“What’s this about me not being smart?” Dream sounded hurt, but the grin on his face told otherwise. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Really?” “Mhmm.”

Dream folded his lips between his teeth as he approached Y/n from his place in the doorway. “Something tells me, you’re lying.” 

Y/n shook her head as Dream’s hands ran over her hips. She bit down on her bottom lip as his face inched closer to hers. “You wouldn’t lie to me, Y/n? Would you?” The girl shook her head, tilting her head to meet his gaze. Dream’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as his eyes shifted from her eyes to her lips. 

“I need you to help me decide what to get George.” Y/n stepped back from Dream’s grip and groaned. “Seriously?” 

Dream lent over, his hands on his knees as he laughed. Y/n joined in with his cackles, swiftly moving around the kitchen to tend to the beeping oven. The tantalising aroma of fresh cookies filled the small space and Dream’s eyes lit up. “Cookies?” 

His jaw fell open at the sight of the sweets before he hurried towards the hot tray that sat on the counter. The chocolatey biscuits sat untouched, and Dream hovered over them, the steam heating his face. 

“They’re hot!” Y/n’s statement was ignored by him as he reached out to pluck a cookie off of the tray. Dream quickly retracted his hand as his fingertips brushed the hot metal. “Fuck!” 

He cradled his hand in his other as he turned towards Y/n, pouting. “You know for a man in your line of work, I'd expect you to be less of a pussy.”

Dream’s frown deepened as he held his fingers out to her, “Help me!” Y/n threw her head backwards in exasperation, fighting back a smile. “Fine.” 

Y/n had bought and finished Sapnap’s Secret Santa present. She held it out at arm’s length to admire her wrapping and moved to place it in her closet to hide it. She was just about to shove it behind her shoe rack when a voice made her jump.

“Hey,” Dream popped his head into Y/n’s room. She smiled at him and closed the closet doors without properly hiding Sapnap’s present. “Hi.” 

“I’ve got something for you,” He said, rounding his arm from behind his back. He held a small, red gift bag and the sight made Y/n gasp. 

“I didn’t know we were doing presents, Clay.” Her eyes filled with tears at the sentiment and for not thinking about buying Dream a present. “We weren’t, but I saw this and had to get it for you.” 

Dream guided Y/n to sit on her bed. He handed her the bag and waited for her to open it, jabbing his fingers in her sides in an attempt to hurry the process.

“Stop poking me, I’m opening it.” She laughed, pulling a black box from the bag. Y/n’s eyes widened as she glanced at Dream, who sat with his thumbnail in his mouth. He let out a nervous laugh before Y/n opened the box. 

A small gold pendant with faint engravings of an animal sat within the velvet, the chain hidden under the material. Y/n tilted her head as she brought it closer to her face, tears blurring her vision. “It’s a lion; it symbolises strength, and you are the strongest woman I know, Y/n. You mean the absolute world to me, you know that?” 

Y/n nodded, lolling her head the rest on Dream’s shoulder “—plus, I’m a Leo, so it’s fitting.” Y/n shoved his shoulder. “It’s gorgeous.” 

She carefully brought her hand to remove it from the box, her hands shaking. “Stop shaking,” Dream laughed, taking the necklace from her hands. “I’m sorry! I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t think I am too?” He uttered, unclasping the hook.

“Aw, you’re nervous?” Y/n whispered, a tearful grin on her face. Dream blushed whilst he nodded. “Now, turn around.”

Y/n did as she was told and lifted her hair up. The cold, thin chain rested against her skin, the small pendant falling on her collarbones. Before she released her hair, she felt Dream’s lips against the nape of her neck. Flushing, Y/n twisted her body so she was facing him again. 

She brought her arms up to wrap around his neck in a hug, Dream circling his around her torso. “Thank you,” She whispered. “I love it.” 

Dream sighed, nudging his nose against her ear, “I love you.” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, her emotions in overdrive as she felt him peck her cheek. Y/n craned her head back so she could look into Dream’s. “I love you.” 

Dream softly smiled before he dipped his head to connect their lips in a kiss. Y/n hummed at the feeling, her fingers moving to toy with the hairs at the bottom of his neck. Dream pulled away quickly, only to press his mouth back against her’s, his hands lifting her shirt up. 

A deep groan came from the back of Dream’s throat as Y/n tugged on his hair, the sound making her smile into his mouth. Suddenly, a soft pinch pricked the skin of her waist as she yelped gently. “Stop laughing at me, baby.” 

This only made Y/n giggle harder as she pulled away from Dream, a pout upon his features. She tipped her head to the side, a mocking frown on her face. Dream huffed and attempted to untangle their limbs whilst fighting a smile. Y/n reached out to grasp his wrists, the action causing Dream to stop moving. 

He cocked an eyebrow at Y/n before she tugged at his wrists and brought his face back to hers. The closeness of their lips and the mingling of breath was euphoric as Y/n closed her eyes to kiss him again—before she was rudely interrupted. 

“Who’d you get for Secret Santa?” 

“Clay!” 

Sapnap, George, Y/n and Dream had taken refuge next to the food table, choosing to stand away from the cluster of other associates in the middle of the room. Sapnap had complained beforehand about interacting with them, and as a group, they had decided it was best for all of them not to mingle. Although, Y/n had left to greet her friend, Niki at the beginning of the night and was soon dragged back to the group by Sapnap. 

They had been waiting on Technoblade to start the exchange of gifts for an hour now. Growing bored, Sapnap elbowed George in the ribs sharply, a giggle escaping his lips at the sound of his friend in pain, “Fuck off, Sapnap.” 

Dream’s arm was thrown over Y/n’s shoulders, her body turned to fit into his side. She looked up at him, expecting to be met with the usual hard expression Dream wore during meetings with Techno, but instead, she admired the faint upturn of the corners of his mouth. 

Finally, Technoblade waltzed into the room, his red velvet suit glittering in the light of the vast chandeliers above. His blossom hair was pulled back into a plait at the back of his head, and his two unusually sharp bottom teeth were visible from where the group stood as they watched him smirk. Sapnap rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, earning a jab in the ribs from George. “Dickhead,” he uttered through closed teeth. 

Technoblade scanned his eyes over the small gathering of employees in front of him. Golden bells and feathery tinsel hung from the walls and the soft rhythm of festive music played at the back of the ballroom. Despite the joyous atmosphere, his face remained stoic as he cleared his throat. 

“Good evening, everyone.” 

—

The exchange of gifts soon began, everybody moving to the back corner of the ballroom to pick out their present. 

Y/n, Sapnap, George and Dream decided to go get their presents last. Once they had all picked out the present with their name on it, George pushed Y/n’s shoulder lightly.

“Ladies first.” Y/n rolled her eyes and reached into the green bag. Her fingers wrapped around a brick-shaped item, the form oddly familiar as she lifted it out. The wrapped walkie talkie sat delicately in her grip. Y/n’s face lit up as she peeled the red paper away. 

“Oh my god…” 

“Dream told me you needed a new one since Schlatt destroyed your last one, so ta-da~!” George wore a silly grin as he watched Y/n admire the shiny, new walkie talkie. “I love it, thank you, Georgie.”

She brought him into a hug, her tight embrace showing George how grateful she actually was—he knew her time with Schlatt was traumatic, so he wanted to assure her that they were always there, more so when she was alone; even if that was in the form of a walkie talkie. 

“It’s my turn!” Sapnap laughed. He snatched the small wrapped box from the floor next to him. His face lit up as his fingers quickly moved to tear away at the wrapping paper. George furrowed his eyebrows at the oddly shaped gift and glanced at Dream who shook his head. They both turned to look at Y/n who gazed at Sapnap, meeting eyes again when they came to the realisation that it was she who bought the present. 

Sapnap pulled out a stack of red and white cards tied together with a green bow. He laughed in disbelief at the sight of the colours of his favourite fast-food restaurant. 

“Chick-Fil-A gift cards?” He beamed, his gaze scanning over his friends before Y/n raised her hand. “Y/n! I love you! Thank you!”

He stepped forward to wrap his arm around her shoulder in a half-hug. Y/n did the same, whispering a quick, ‘no problem’ to him. 

Dream narrowed his eyes at Sapnap, who’s smile only grew bigger. “Calm down, green boy, why do you hate me?”

“Ok, I’m next.” Dream announced, ignoring the question. He moved his growing hair out of his eyes as he brought the wrapped box in front of him. 

“You should’ve gotten him some hair clippers for that mop,” Y/n laughed, shoving Dream while he fake laughed and grimaced. Sapnap barked out a laugh and encouraged Dream to open the present. “Chill out.” 

Sapnap rolled his eyes and watched as Dream ripped the paper off, a smirk playing at his lips. “Oh look! Hair clippers!” 

The group burst into hysterics at the sight of the box that did, in fact, contain hair clippers. “I hate you guys.” 

“Be grateful, Dreamy! I paid good money for those.” Sapnap exclaimed, his laughs making it difficult to understand him. “While you're at it, shave that disgusting beard shit you’ve got going on, it’s gross.” 

“It’s hardly a beard. You’re just jealous because you can’t grow one as good as me,” Dream teased, earning a scoff from Sapnap, “That’s bullshit.” 

Dream gave Sapnap a bemused look and stepped forward to wrap his arm around his neck in a headlock. “You’re such a fuckin’ idiot.” 

Sapnap’s giggles attracted the attention of surrounding members, their laughter joining in with the group of four when they saw what was going on. 

“Well, unlike Sapnap, I actually got you a good present, George.” Dream said, releasing the youngest from the headlock. George peered down at the large red and green gift bag he held. 

“Ok…” He reached into the bag but stopped when his face scrunched up. Dream snorted out a laugh, his wheeze making it hard for everyone to keep a straight face. “Dream, what the fuck is this?” 

Dream’s laughs only intensified when George pulled a singular piece of wet spaghetti. Y/n laughed out loud with a puzzled expression, and Sapnap slapped his knee with tears in his eyes. 

“Oh no! Did I put the wrong present in the bag?” Dream struggled to breathe through his cackles. George genuinely seemed hurt as he pouted, his head dropping towards the floor. 

“NO! No, George, I’m kidding—here,” Dream moved to pull something from his back pocket. George lifted his head and his frown was immediately replaced with a look of shock when Dream dropped a gold compass in his palm. George was unable to form a coherent sentence as he gazed at Dream, his eyes becoming watery. “How?”

“I contacted your dad, actually, and he was more than happy to send it over.” Dream said, happily accepting George's hug when he wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Sapnap glanced at Y/n, confused until George noticed.  

“It was my Grandad’s compass. He took this everywhere he went during the war. I thought it was gone forever when he died.” Sapanp’s eyebrows raised and his jaw fell, “Woah.” 

“Y/n helped me.” Dream admitted, motioning his hand to her as she waved. 

“Y/n.” George moved to hug the girl next, his tears falling onto her shoulder. She exhaled a laugh and brought her hand to the back of his head, “It was no problem, honestly. I know how much it means to you.” 

George pulled back, wiping at his cheeks, suddenly very embarrassed at making a scene. “Sorry guys.” 

“Don’t be sorry, Georgie, it’s a sentimental gift, we understand,” Sapnap said, patting his friend’s back. “But why wasn’t I a part of this?”

Tugging on Dream’s sleeve, Y/n pulled him back inside his bedroom. “I’ve got a present for you.” 

“Uh—we gotta be downstairs in like 5 minutes,” Dream laughed, the tips of his ears reddening as he jutted his thumb over his shoulder. “No! Not that type of present, get your head out of the gutter.” 

Dream continued to giggle, even when Y/n sat him down on his bed. “Close your eyes.” 

Y/n rushed to his wardrobe to reach up and grab the long, flat box that laid on the middle shelf. She placed it in his lap and then resumed to sit next to him. At the feeling of something on his thighs, Dream opened his eyes. He gave her a pointed look and continued to open the box.

His brought his hand to tuck his hair behind his ear as he reached inside the side of the box. His movement froze when he felt the object and turned to face Y/n. She only laughed as he continued to drag it out of the cardboard. Dream gapped at the feeling of smooth ceramic under his fingers. “Baby..” 

“I told you I was going to get you a new one, so I did,” Y/n spoke softly, her voice like honey to him. Dream furrowed his brows and Y/n brought her thumb to smooth out the creases, “Don’t do that, you’ll get wrinkles.” 

That elicited a giggle out of Dream. He placed it on his duvet on the other side of him and turned back towards Y/n. “You didn’t need to do this.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes, slapping him lightly on the bicep, “Shut up, yes I did. I promised.” Dream shook his head, returning his gaze to the mask. 

“I love you, so much. You have no idea.” Y/n squinted one eye and she tilted her head, “I’m pretty sure I have an idea.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dream questioned, placing the mask and the box on the floor before he pushed Y/n backwards on the bed. She nodded, moving her hands to his shoulders as he hovered over her. 

“I know because I love you so much more,” Dream pulled his head back, looking at her in bewilderment. “No chance.” And when he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, a scream interrupted them.

“Close your fucking door! Gross!” 

“Fuck off, Sapnap!” 

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

#5: The One With Astruc's Self-Insert

In my introductory post, I said the main inspiration for this blog was @hypocrisyofandrewdobson​. For those who don't know, Andrew Dobson is an infamous webcomic artist known for drawing webcomics that tend to demonize people he's come across in public or people who disagree with him online (either critical of his art or his political views), while portraying himself as the victim or wise man calling them out on their differing beliefs.

If you want to learn more about this guy who I consider to be far worse than Astruc, check out the blog in question. And no, I don't know why he draws himself as a blue bear.

Why am I talking about this? It's one thing for some schmuck on the internet to use his work to respond to criticism, but the creator of a popular animated series dedicating an entire episode to attacking his critics and trying to get others to feel bad for him is another story.

The second episode of Miraculous Ladybug's third season, “Animaestro” served as a wake-up call for fans (myself included) to make them realize how immature Astruc could be. The plot centers around the premiere of a movie about Ladybug and Cat Noir directed by Thomas Astruc, who voices himself in the original French dub.

And this isn't just a brief cameo like what Stan Lee did in the MCU. Astruc is the Akumatized person this episode, so there's naturally a lot of focus on him. Throughout the first half of the episode, Astruc portrays himself as this timid man who nobody recognizes or respects, like this idiot who doesn't know what animation is.

Doorman: This is a private event, sir.

Astruc: Huh? Excuse me? I'm Thomas Astruc, the movie director.

Doorman: You filmed Cat Noir and Ladybug? What are they like in real life?

Astruc: Er, it's an animated movie. It's all cartoon characters. We don't actually film anyone. See, there's this whole team that draw the chara—

Doorman: Whatever. Who would want to see Ladybug and Cat Noir as cartoon characters?

Get it? Wasn't that meta joke hilarious? This is how much I was laughing:

And Astruc continues to get about as much respect as Rodney Dangerfield when he interacts with other characters like Jagged Stone and Chloe.

Jagged Stone: Ladybug is one of my best buds! I can't wait to see her movie!

Astruc: Well I—I'm the director, so actually it's more my movie, so to speak.

Jagged Stone: Oh, so you're the one who created the story?

Astruc: Well, technically the screen writers wrote the story, inspired by Ladybug's exploits.

Jagged Stone: Oh, okay. So you did all the drawings?

Thomas: No, no. The animators do all the drawings.  

Jagged Stone: So what do you do then?

(Later on...)

Chloe: So you're the one responsible for this movie?

Astruc: Yes, yes! Exactly! That's me!

Chloe: Then you were the one who left Queen Bee out of the trailer. You're lame, utterly lame.

I can't believe Astruc had a scene where he interacted with Chloe and didn't insult her at all.

The episode is determined to make the audience feel bad for Astruc. Nobody respects him and what he does. Isn't that saaaaaad? Nobody cares about animated film directors like Walt Disney or Tex Avery anyway. Not even these stupid children understand how hard Astruc works.

Several Children: Ladybug! Where's Ladybug?

Astruc: Hey there, kids!

Teacher: Ladybug isn't here children. We came here to meet the director of the movie. Children: (frowning in disappointment) Aww.

(Astruc looks visibly disappointed.)

Way to insult your primary demographic, Astruc. I thought you said kids have a better understanding of these stories when people criticized the writing of a certain episode (It's that scene in “Puppeteer 2” if you're curious/don't value your sanity).

It's almost like you're using that as an excuse to half-ass your work while still getting to claim this show is so groundbreaking.

In case you can't tell, “Animaestro” is one of those episodes. The ones where the showrunners decide to dedicate an entire episode to attacking critics of the show in a blunt fashion. Whenever a show addresses criticism, they either create an obvious strawman character to parrot the opinions of fans who don't like their work, or have someone defend the show and insult the critics directly.

The problem isn't that they're ignoring criticism. It's their show, and they aren't obligated to listen to critics or fans who don't like the direction the show is taking. On the other hand, they aren't obligated to fight back like this and treat their audience like crap. Any show that does something like the three clips I showed you usually comes off as petty and immature because they dedicate so much time to insulting the critics. 

Even during the Akuma fight, Astruc has to call out Ladybug for having problems with his movie in-universe, obviously representing critics of the show Astruc claims have no right to criticize the show while it's still airing.

Ladybug: What's with that trailer too? I am not scared of cats, at all.

Astruc/Animaestro: You haven't even seen the movie and you're already slamming it?

Cat Noir: He does have a point, you know.

Ladybug: I wasn't slamming it. It's called constructive criticism!

Yeah, how dare Ladybug be angry that this movie is portraying her as a powerless coward dependent on Cat Noir as opposed to a confident and brave superhero. She just doesn't understand the genius of Thomas Astruc!

And of course the character Astruc claims is “perfect” is the one to take his side.

And that's another problem with this episode, the metatextual references. Before he gets akumatized, Astuc says he spent three years of his life working on his movie. I get that time in this show is weird (we somehow had episodes taking place on the first day of school, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and the first day of Summer), but how did Astruc's self-insert work on a movie based on a superhero who has only been active for a year? Meta-wise, it's an obvious reference to the scorn Astruc has gotten from fans after working so hard on his show, but the only people who would get that reference are the ones who are aware of Astruc's reputation online.

Self-Insert aside, I actually think the titular Animaestro is one of the more visually impressive Akumas featured on the show. Animaestro takes on several forms based off several different forms and eras of animation, like flash, anime, rubber hose, and they all stand out. Granted, some of them are obvious parodies of other characters like Goku or Sailor Moon, but the actual Akuma fight is fun to watch. According to the Mexican Miraculous Ladybug Twitter account, this episode took two and a half years to create, and it shows. It's too bad the story behind it is completely insufferable, almost like the cartoon equidistant to Pixels.

But then comes the part that honestly makes the episode worth it, mainly for how unintentionally hilarious it is. Do you want to know what Animaestro's weakness is? Do you really want to know?

Animaestro is physically incapable of moving unless someone is watching him. I am not making this up.

Ladybug and Cat Noir literally defeat Animaestro by getting everyone to stop paying attention to him.

I could make so many jokes with this, but I can guarantee you're already thinking of something just as good, if not better, than whatever I write.

And there's the end where Astruc gives Marinette his ticket to the movie, which prompts Marinette to kiss up to him for no real reason.

Astruc: Sorry, I guess you don't know who I am either.

Marinette: Of course do. You're Thomas Astruc, the movie director!

Astruc: She recognized me. Somebody actually recognized me!

Nothing happened to make her change her opinion on the Ladybug movie, she didn't really say anything to him earlier in the episode that connects to this exchange, and outside of a few lines Animaestro said, she doesn't even know why he got akumatized (even though ironically she and Chloe accidentally contributed to it because of the awful subplot involving Kagami I talked about last time). If anything, it comes off less like she actually appreciates Astruc's work, and more like she's stroking his ego just to keep him from getting akumatized again.

So yeah, this episode is awful, and the fact that it came out right after the controversial “Chameleon” only proved to show what kind of direction the show was taking this season.

But honestly, even if Astruc still wanted to make about how he doesn't get enough respect the episode could have potentially. All he had to do was make a simple change: Instead of making it about validation for Astruc as a creator, make it about validation for animation in general.

It's a common misconception that animation is only used for shows and movies aimed at children, so the episode could reflect it. Instead of the huge turnout where several celebrities appear at the premiere, instead, the turnout could be a lot smaller, with the media dismissing it as some stupid kiddie flick. Instead of getting akumatized because he gets humiliated in public/getting no respect from anyone else, Astruc gets akumatized because he sees the audience didn't go wild for the movie after the premiere. All he can hear them say is that it's just “kids stuff”.

So when Astruc is Animaestro, he goes on about how important animation is. How it's helped produce propaganda since World War II. How it helped improve special effects in big blockbusters. How the medium is used to create movies that simply can't be filmed on a physical set.

After defeating Animaestro, Ladybug shows up to talk to him. She had seen the movie earlier, and actually enjoyed it. She had a few problems with the story, but they were just minor nitpicks and inaccuracies Astruc wouldn't know about, and she was blown away by the animation. She tells Astruc not to be deterred by his critics, and continue to do what he does. As a designer in her civilian life, Ladybug knows the joy creating brings her, and both she and Astruc want to spread that joy through their work.

Back at the premiere, Astruc thinks about what Ladybug said to him when he sees some kids reenacting a scene from the movie. Astruc walks over to them and asks what they thought of the movie. They said they loved it and how energetic it was. When he tells them he is the director, the kids' faces light up and they say they want to do what he does when they grow up, bringing a smile to Astruc's face.

Isn't that a much more humble approach instead of what we got? It would have helped Astruc come across as more sympathetic, especially with animation fans. But instead, we got an entire episode of Astruc whining about how misunderstood he is.

And you know the footage used for the movie at the beginning? Remember that, because I have a huge rant about it saved for a later post.

For now, here’s an example of a creator appearing in his work done right.

[pregnant-piggy]

One coffee please (1/2)

Blaise Zabini x reader

This is part of all I want for Christmas is fanfiction

This is written for @kalimagik‘s writing challenge

Words: 2.9k

A/N: this was my first time properly writing for Blaise and it will definitely not be the last. With this fic he has grown to be a character close to my heart and I am already excited to write more for him!

Prompts: 'what are you talking about? This is brilliant!' and 'you're cute when you're mad'

It was definitely winter. The wind was blazing around in the streets, howling around the corners of high buildings. It was blowing against the windows of houses and apartments, creating loud thrums in the ears of the people inside. The skies were dark grey in the night and icy blue in the morning. The sun was shining but it was cold. Streets froze overnight, but thawed before anyone woke up.

Even the thickest sheets and blankets couldn’t keep you warm as you lied in bed. At night you curled up to a ball to keep all the heat close to your body, but in the morning you woke with cold toes and fingertips. The sheets didn’t reach far enough to your neck and even your woollen jumper couldn’t protect you from the freeze. It was now more than ever that you longed for someone to cling onto in the night, to have their body heat against your skin. You wanted to feel the warmth that came from someone’s arms around your waist and the heat of someone’s fingertips on the skin under your jumper.

Instead you woke up alone in your apartment, the wind pounding against the tall windows. A moan escaped your mouth as you stretched out and the little bones in your back cracked. The cold air of your room flew over your arms and goose bumps formed all from your wrists to your armpits. A shiver ran over your spine, sliding from your neck to the dip of your back. A cold spread through your entire body from only putting your arms above the sheets.

Resting your arms atop of the blankets over your duvet, you sighed and opened your eyes, greeting the darkness that came with the winter's mornings. The sun that woke you in the summer was now still hidden behind the horizon and the tall buildings in the city. The skies were dark blue with clouds that coloured orange from the street lights. Maybe if it had been clear you could have seen the stars.

You had to get out of bed eventually. The longer you stayed in, the more you would have to hurry and the thought of that was almost enough to get you out of bed. But instead you rubbed your face and stared at the ceiling until the alarm from your phone sounded through your room. You lifted your body half in your bed and reached for your phone on the nightstand. Your cold fingers had turned off the alarm before you could even see the screen of your phone; waking up like this had become a habit lately.

After five minutes even your social media couldn’t keep your mind from the fact that useful time was passing and you tossed your phone somewhere on your bed. After a deep breath you threw the blankets and sheets off your yet warm body and swung your feet over the edge of your bed. If it wasn’t for the rug under your feet you would have crawled back into your bed. But instead you got up from your bed and walked to your closet, contemplating just wearing sweats.

You settled on a black pair of jeans and a dark green jumper with a turtle neck, so that you would still be warm. After freshening up and making yourself look acceptable to the outside public, you put on your shoes and stole an apple from the fruit bowl in the kitchen on your way to the door. Breakfast would come later. Right now you had to make sure you were on time.

_-_-_-_-_-_

Blaise wished he hadn’t worn his hoodie to bed last night. He woke with a sweaty back and quickly threw off the sheets. He welcomed the coldness with open arms, feeling the air wrapping around his hot body and calming down his skin.

It took him fifteen minutes to take a short shower, brush his teeth and put on some clothes. Much different from what anyone would wear on such a cold day, Blaise chose for a simple button up and rolled up the sleeves up his arms, his tattoos peeking out.

He took his keys and wallet from the table next to the front door and closed the door behind him, while he put on the leather jacket and checked his phone for any messages. The door locked with a soft click and Blaise put his other arm in his jacket, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone. He reached into his pocket, fishing out his earphones and plugging them into his phone. The tones of his favourite song soon started to play and he relaxed as he walked out of his apartment building.

The streets under his feet were more slippery than they had been all week and it took Blaise a woman who nearly fell to realise. While the woman was helped by a passer-by, Blaise quickly turned around the corner and quickened his pace.

His hands were in his pockets, playing with the keys in his right one. The beat of the music synced with his steps and for a moment he forgot it was early in the morning and he wasn’t a morning person. He even arrived with a smile at the coffee shop he was headed for.

The bell of The Old Coffee House tingled when Blaise pushed open the door. The coffee shop originally was started by his grandfather, who had thought it would be a good thing to do with his retirement. The coffee shop was celebrating its thirtieth anniversary next year. It was the oldest company in the whole block and by tourists it was seen as a mark for the city. Blaise didn’t know if it was really that, but he was glad there were enough costumers.

His mother was managing the place from her home and she would come in once a week, to make sure everything went well. But it was mostly Blaise who had the control in the shop.

Well, Blaise and you.

You were Blaise's best friend. Your mothers were best friends and being forced to spend time together when you were kids had let to a connection to build. You had spent your whole lives together and when Blaise's mother was looking for someone to help her son in the coffee shop, you had been the first to volunteer. He had now been working with you for a year and it had only made that you were even closer now.

Blaise knew everything about you, from your morning routine to your favourite song and the dance you'd do to it. He knew what to do when you were down in the dump and what to give you when you were, as he called, ‘hangry’. He knew how to cheer you up and when to leave you alone when you were angry.

He had seen you at your best and at your worst. He was the first one to hear about your first date with your boyfriend and the one who was there when said boyfriend suddenly left you alone. He had seen you dancing on tabletops and crying in your bed.

Blaise was always there for you, because you had been there for him his entire life.

‘Well aren’t you happy for a Monday morning?’ you asked as you made your way into the space from the backroom, tying an apron at your back. Blaise rolled his eyes at you and took off his jacket. He hung it next to your coat behind the counter and took the apron from the hook, tying it the same way you had done. ‘What got you so cheerful?’

Blaise shrugged and leaned on the counter with his right forearm, watching you as you filled the coffee machine with coffee beans. You were humming along to a song that was playing over the radio while you turned on the machine and made two cups of coffee.

The grinding of the coffee beans sounded over the radio and your humming got softer as you lost track of where the song was. Instead you nodded along to the beat that was still vaguely audible over the low buzzing.

Blaise snickered when you tried to hit the high note and your hum failed to reach it. You shot him an annoyed look and he only shrugged at you, grinning as he turned around and he heard the huff from your lips.

Soon you fell into the routine that had developed over time. Since neither you nor Blaise were morning people, it was soon found that it was best if it was just silent. The only sounds were the radio and the occasional talk with a customer. It was a serene scene for anyone to walk into, seeing two people work in silence in a place that could be such a buzz in the afternoon.

While you helped a costumer to their coffee and muffin, Blaise leaned against the counter and watched you. The sunlight came in from the window behind you and the silhouette of your face was painted against a canvas of golden light. The edges of your figure were outlined by a golden thread. Your cheeks glowed up and your eyes seemed like the brightest gemstones Blaise had ever seen.

Blaise would be the last one to deny that you were pretty. Over the years he had seen you grow into the wonderful person you were now, inside and outside. There was something about your appearance that told the world how you were. With just one glance someone could see you as the passionate person you were, but Blaise knew that there was so much more to it than just passion.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked and Blaise was pulled from his thoughts. He flashed you his smirk and nodded before he took his own coffee mug. You raised your eyebrow at him as you noticed that what was in his mug was not coffee.

‘What’s in there?’ you asked, stepping closer to Blaise, ordering him to show his mug with your finger. ‘It smells like cinnamon.’

‘That’s because it has cinnamon in it,’ Blaise shrugged and he took a sip.

‘Well, of course,’ you said, rolling your eyes. ‘I figured that.’

Blaise lifted the mug to drink again, but you stopped him by grabbing his wrist and taking the mug from him. You eyed it suspiciously and smelled it. Over the cup you made eye contact with Blaise and with your eyes you pleaded him to tell you what it was.

‘I made it,’ he said, suddenly feeling insecure. He had never told anyone about it. He knew it was silly, but he was afraid someone would judge him over his coffee.  ‘I was messing around at home once and this kind of came out of it… It’s not much, but it does help keep you awake.’

You squeezed your eyes before you carefully took a sip and Blaise watched you, biting the inside of his mouth anxiously. You swallowed and held your eyes closed a little longer. Blaise shook his head and turned away from you.

‘I know it’s rubbish-’

‘What are you talking about?’ you cried out, turned Blaise back to you. ‘This is brilliant! You made this?’

The look of adoration on your face was enough for Blaise to start smiling and the blood rushed to his cheeks. He nodded and chuckled when he saw the stun on your face.

‘Why would you hide this from me?’ you asked, tilting your head. ‘What more have you been hiding?’ you added playfully, meaning nothing but still making Blaise fear for his secrets.

‘Nothing you should know about,’ he joked, yet there was a hint of nervousness in his voice that went unnoticed by you. You laughed and pushed Blaise away as you welcomed the next costumer and went back to work.

_-_-_-_-_-_

It had frozen overnight. Or better said, it was freezing at night. It was still dark outside and the sun was hours from rising. Only very few people were awake at this time.

You were sunken deep into your dreams, under layers of blankets to keep the cold from numbing your toes. The cold didn’t bother you yet, but it sure would when you would have to get out of bed in the morning. Luckily, it was Sunday what meant that the coffee shop was closed today and you could stay in bed for as long as you liked. Plans for today had been cast aside and you had nothing to do but sit on the couch in three jumpers and binge your favourite series.

However, fate seemed to have a different thought.

It was narrowing three when the ringtone of your phone started to sound clear and disrupting in your room, waking you from your sleep. In the dark you patted down your nightstand to find the thing that was making the sound and when you found your phone, your thumb automatically went to turn off the alarm. You dropped your phone back next to your pillow, but the sound kept going and you realised it wasn’t your alarm, but someone was calling you.

A loud groan passed your lips as you turned on your back. Squeezing your eyes against the light from the screen and an even louder groan escaped your mouth when you noticed who was calling you.

‘What do you want, Blaise?’ you said, your voice groggy with sleep and annoyance.

It wasn’t unlike Blaise to call you in the middle of the night when he knew you would be asleep just to mess with you, but yet every time he called you worried something had happened to him. However, when you heard his chuckle at your sleepy voice you knew that there couldn’t be something too wrong.

‘Nice talking to you too,’ Blaise said and you could hear the slight double tongue. Of course.

‘Blaise it is two in the morning, what do you want from me?’ you groaned, rubbing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose as you heard Blaise laugh again.

‘I might have accidentally locked myself out of my apartment as I left earlier this night,’ he said. ‘And the janitor won’t answer my calls.’

‘I wonder why,’ you mumbled.

‘Can I come over?’

You sighed and shook your head. Of course you were friends with the guy that forgot his keys in the middle of the night. ‘Sure, come over.’

‘Great, because I am already at your door.’

Without even reacting to that you hung up and put your phone back on your nightstand. You looked in the dark at the pile of blankets on top of you and cursed Blaise under your breath. In the freezing cold you left your bed and patted over to the front door of your apartment. Looking through the peephole in the door you watched Blaise for a minute. His broad shoulders covered with the leather jacket that he never left without were the first thing that caught your eye and you swallowed before you took a step back.

You unlocked the door and opened it. The cold air from the corridor seeped inside the hall of your apartment and you knew that it was over with the heat that you had been trying to create the whole night. You shivered as the coldness reached your bare legs; despite freezing to death, you still couldn’t sleep with long pants.

‘Get inside, idiot,’ you hissed and pulled Blaise inside before he could say anything. He chuckled and ruffled your hair with his cold hand. Taking of his jacket and hanging it next to your other coats, Blaise eyed the distance between the living room and your bedroom curiously.

‘If you wait a minute, I’ll get the couch ready for you,’ you said and you walked to your bedroom, looking at the blankets and deciding which ones you could miss. However, you hadn’t even taken one blanket before Blaise had crawled into your bed, waiting to see what you would do.

Defeated you stood at the foot end of you bed, the end of a blanket in your hands. As much as you tried not to look, you couldn’t help notice Blaise’s bare chest. Your eyes scanned his torso and lingered at his tattoos. It wasn’t like you had never seen Blaise without a shirt, but it just had never happened that he was sitting in your bed without a shirt.

You swallowed down the sudden nervous tingle in your chest and tried to act nonchalant as you shrugged and put the blanket back in its place. You walked around the bed and settled next to Blaise, leaving enough space so it would be appropriate, but still getting a little closer hoping he’d bring you any warmth.

‘Alright, then we’ll do it like this,’ you muttered as you turned down the light and lay down.

And indeed as you had thought, you felt the heat radiating off of Blaise, engulfing you in a warm embrace. The cold that had been pestering you all night was now suddenly gone and you felt you fingers and toes get back some feeling.

‘You owe me breakfast,’ you mumbled as you closed your eyes and your head turned to the side, Blaise’s hot breath stroking over your face as you fell asleep.

- - - - - -

taglist

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1 @figlia--della--luna @kylosleftbuttcheek @mrs-malfoy-always @thefandomplace @magicwithaknife @mt2413 @aesthetically-hailey @superbturtlemakerathlete @the-natureofme @missswriter @hahee154hq @chloer1275​

[aziraphales-library]

Aziraphale’s Library Festive Countdown: Week 3

Hey all, Mod B here with this weeks batch of festive fun!

---

A Christmas Carol Service by HolRose Mr Crowley and Mr Fell Present: An Entertainment for Christmas Or: How an Angel and a Demon inspired a Christmas Classic Or: An Ineffable Christmas Cock-up Or: How Charles Dickens Saved the Day

A fantastic good omens edition of the classic story, this fic does an excellent job of winding Aziraphale and Crowley into the story, and was wonderful at balancing its humour, introspection, and heartwarming elements. 

Don't Even Wish for Snow by LadyShipwreck Every Christmas for over 300 years, Crowley has put off telling his best human friend that he's a demon. He somehow doesn't see what's wrong with this picture.

This fic is just as hilarious as you would expect from the premise, but also has some very sweet moments that make it more than worth the read.

How an Angel Learnt to Relax and Rediscover Christmas by Jupiter_Ash Aziraphale has a complicated relationship with various religious holidays. Christmas was no exception. (Part 1 guest starring other religious and non-religious holidays)

While it is currently still a WIP, the latest addition to the incredible Tales of Eden Cottage series is an absolute delight, featuring many engaging OCs, and endlessly enjoyably memorable footnotes.

O Night Divine by anonymintea “Absolutely terrible, isn't it?” “I beg your pardon?” “The holidays,” Crowley replied. “Most dreadful time of year.” The feeling of cheer and holiday spirit may have put a spring in Aziraphale's step, but it was an oppressive weight on Crowley's chest. Like being outside on a humid day, the joy of Christmas was sticky in his lungs, suffocating.

This fic is a wonderful character study, with some very fun and in-character moments. Sweet and does a good job of poking fun at their awkwardness.

Mistletoe and Wine by Fire_Traveller Aziraphale decorates the bookshop for Christmas and afterwards, he and Crowley share some hot mulled wine...until Crowley suggests that they could listen to some more modern Christmas music and actually dance to that...Just some shameless fluff, folks... Written for the 'Mistletoe' prompt.

Exactly what you’d expect from a ‘mistletoe’ prompt in all the best ways, this fic has fantastic dialogue and is wonderfully fluffy. Super lighthearted and a joy to read.

Crowley's First Christmas by skimmingthesurface, SylviaW1991  Christmas is just the sort of holiday a demon has no business enjoying, even if one particular demon is entirely responsible for just such a holiday. After Armageddon't, he finally has a chance to see what all the fuss is about and one particular angel is very eager to show him. It's been nearly two thousand years of missing him every December, after all, so there's much to do. There's mulled wine, Christmas markets, a tree to decorate, gifts to give, and secrets to share.

A wonderfully long fic to dig into, this fic manages to have them both fantastically in-character, with witty dialogue and many soft scenes, this fic nails their dynamic, and why we all love it so much.

Taking the Cake by Caedmon Aziraphale has noticed his handsome neighbor, but hasn't had an excuse (or the nerve) to talk to him. He gets his chance, though, when a bakery delivers a package to the wrong door a few days before Christmas and his neighbor comes knocking.

A top tier human au with wonderful soft and flustered moments, this fic does an excellent job at developing their relationship, and is just such a joy to read. 

---

Happy christmas to all of all our readers who celebrate! If you don’t, I hope you also have a wonderful, peaceful day. Hope to see yall back next week for the final, new years themed rec post!

~ Mod B

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #12

 Word Count: ~ 2.400

______________________________________________________________ 

Chapter 12: Secret Santa

December had come around, bringing with it the heaps of snow Hogwarts had been spared from so far. Within days it buried everything in sight under a thick white blanket, transforming the landscape outside into a powdery winter wonderland.

Peeves had took it as his personal assignment to dump a heap of snow on every unsuspecting passer-by from questionable heights until Professor McGonagall publicly threatened to turn him into a Christmas cracker if she saw him with so much as a single snowflake in his unsubstantial hands again.

And as the castle was slowly but surely covered in ornaments and twinkling lights, the festive spirit spread into even the most remote corners of the dungeons.

It had become tradition for the Hufflepuff team to celebrate the holidays in their own way. Even back when Orion hadn’t been captain, the team used to gather after the last practise of the year for a small get-together in the Common Room, including a game of Secret Santa.

Whereas the idea of material gifts had never posed much of an interest to him, Orion couldn’t deny the astounding effect the game had on the rest of the team. The excitement of receiving a present from someone unknown positively electrified his friends. Consulting the ones closest to your assigned person for a suitable gift never failed to knit their team closer together.

So he had just continued entertaining this ritual after he had stepped up into his position. Especially this year, they could do with a little bit of festive unison.

The snowfall had increased again just as they were wrapping up their last manoeuvres. Everyone practically jumped off their broomsticks to retreat into the comforting warmth and light of the Common Room.  

McNully was already waiting for them as they entered through the narrow passageway, a trail of melted snow dragging on behind them. A small jute pouch adorned with an embroidered Christmas Tree rested on his lap. Fully immersed in the festive spirit, he was sporting a particularly nasty sweater picturing a badger dancing with a raven instead of his usual white shirt and tie. His golden snitch was still pinned to his chest, however.  

He wiggled his eyebrows in anticipation as they all got changed into their yellow and black team sweaters and settled down around him. A pot of hot chocolate was passed around, the warm smell spreading in the Common Room as each player poured themselves a cup, glad for something to put their freezing hands around.

McNully reached into the pouch and started mixing up the slips of parchment he had prepared in advance while reminding them of the rules.

“It is time for our annual Christmas draw, ladies and gentlemen! As we have some new faces to join in on the fun this year,” he inclined his head towards Everett, “I will present to you the rules once again.”

Orion shook his head with a chuckle. Murphy McNully, forever the presenter.

“Everyone is to draw a name of another member of the team. You have time until Christmas Day to buy, craft or create a suitable present for your assigned person. You may not reveal your identity to them unless they guess correctly. You are not to reveal your draw to another person unless your un-festive mind can’t think of anything to gift and needs creative assistance. If you fail to deliver on your task, I will brand you a Christmas troll and announce it publicly on your next friendly.”

Orion bit back a laugh at Murphy’s newest addition to the rules. His friend took the holidays very seriously.

They all took their turn lining up and dove their hands into the pouch, pulling out a neatly folded piece of parchment. The reactions to the names written on them ranged from relief over confusion to horror when it was a particularly difficult person to find a gift for. Orion found it fascinating to observe.

Laughter erupting from one of the armchairs drew his attention. Skye slumped in it while Lizzie was sitting on the floor with her back against the yellow armrest. Lucy had just showed her parchment to them, looking more chagrined than anything. Upon reading what was written on it, Skye had whispered something to them, prompting the girls to burst into laughter.

“You are not supposed to show who you got just yet!” Murphy scolded the girls. Spreading Christmas joy was a very serious business to him.

“Sorry!” Lizzie tried to appease him while still shaking from suppressed laughter. “Just go on!” Skye muttered something into her ear, drawing another set of giggles from her.

With an indignant huff Murphy returned to monitor the drawing while Orion quietly observed the scene. There were still some stray snowflakes hanging in her hair which was curling around her face as it dried in the warm air of the room. Her cheeks had turned red from laughing at Skye’s joke, a smile lingering on her lips, reaching up into her eyes.

He hadn’t seen Lizzie as carefree since what had happened back at the concert a few weeks prior. Everyone but McNully had left Hogsmeade soon after she had suddenly disappeared. They had found her in the Common Room, curled up in front of the fireplace, nose buried in a book and Mouse snuggled up on her lap. She had retreated to her dorm almost immediately after their arrival.

Neither of them had mentioned what had happened with so much as even a word. It wasn’t like Orion had a problem with that. He wasn’t entirely sure himself in what direction they had set their steps that day, or why he couldn’t get a hold of the reason everything had gone out of hand. It was like smoke, evading his grasp as soon as he tried to set his mind on unravelling what had taken place between them.

But he had noticed how Lizzie had started avoiding his company. Where she had been perfectly comfortable around him before, she now made sure someone was with her at all times, positively clinging to Skye when they had practise or her friend Rowan during their tutoring lessons.

It was this change of atmosphere Orion felt truly sorry about. He considered his friends his family and Lizzie actively seeking her distance from him unsettled him more than he cared to admit. It had never been his intention to cross a line. Like  a fool, he had let himself get carried away in the spur of the moment. He should have known better by now.

He missed chatting with her in the greenhouse the most. Lizzie was one of the few people seeing beyond him being the captain of the Hufflepuff team. She was actually listening to what he had to say. Instead of tuning out when she didn’t understand his point, she gave his words a thought until she had figured it out.  

As much as he longed to equilibrate their friendship again, he would have never forced her to talk to him if she clearly did not wish to do so.

Perhaps it was a good thing the Christmas break was so close. For the first time in years Orion was glad almost everyone was returning home for the holidays. Having the Common Room mostly to himself was the perfect occasion to take a step back and regain the balance he had been struggling to maintain as of late.

He wasn’t the only one watching the chuckling group of girls, however.

Everett seemed to be oddly interested in their conversation as well, his intense gaze trailing Lizzie’s every movement. Sensing Orion’s attention shifting to him, he suddenly perked his head up. His grey eyes narrowed as they made contact with Orion, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air between them.

Orion had no interest in a fight with him, so he merely held his gaze with level eyes. It took Everett a moment, but eventually, he broke the contact and turned away.

“Why is he looking at you like that?” McNully had finished monitoring the draw and came over to him. Everyone else was chatting excitedly about gift ideas and the upcoming break by now.

Orion’s eyes followed Everett as he got up and strutted over to the boys sharing their dorm. Maybe choosing him for the team had not been the wisest decision after all.

“People with strong characters like him often feel the inherent need to establish a hierarchy between them and others they deem a threat to their dominance,” Orion responded, half lost in thought.

“A threat, you?” McNully chortled.

He had to smile at his poor choice of words. “While I may not portray a dominant character, as captain I do fill the most prominent position in this team,” he explained his meaning. “I consider every one of us a vital piece of the greater picture and I find rivalries within our team to be unfortunate; we should always strive for unison. Because without unison, how can we reach a common goal?”

McNully stared after their roommate, silently calculating. “Whatever this is about, if he happened to have drawn your name, I’d like to inform you that there is the small possibility of 9.2 % that a present from him might be really unpleasant.”

His face suddenly lit up again and he shoved the almost empty pouch in Orion’s face. “Speaking of which, there’s only you and I left now.”

Not being half as enthusiastic as his friend, Orion waved him on. “Go ahead, I’ll take the last one.”

McNully pulled one of the two remaining slips of parchment out of the bag. A grin spread on his face when he read the name written on it. “Oh, that’s a tough one,” he mused, grey eyes sparkling. “Brilliant! I like a good challenge.”

He upended the pouch into his hand and handed the last parchment to Orion; he always took the one that was left.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile as he read the name written on it. Apparently, the universe had his own twisted sense of humour.

“Who’d you get to make you grin like that?”

Skye had suddenly appeared by his side, craning her head to catch a glimpse of the piece of paper between Orion’s fingers. He shifted his arm slightly to block her view and folded it up again.

“Skye, are you coming? We need to finish that Charms essay before the library closes,” Lizzie called over to her friend. She had gotten to her feet, her hand resting only lightly on the back of the armchair. She seemed very eager to leave the scene.

“Go ahead if you don’t want to wait, I’ll catch up to you.”

Lizzie hesitated for a moment before stepping back towards the group. She rubbed her hands against her arm and joined them, albeit subtly standing as far away from Orion as possible without it looking suspicious. He noticed it anyway.

Their eyes met for the briefest moment as she caught him looking at her and she immediately dropped her gaze, suddenly very invested in pulling on a loose thread at the hem of her sweater.

Skye tried to use his distraction to her advantage. With a quick movement she attempted to snatch the piece of parchment he was still holding between his index and his middle finger out of his hand.

“You are not supposed to know!” McNully shooed her away as Orion tucked the paper into the pocket of his pants.

“Don’t violate the rules, Skye Parkin, I’m warning you!” McNully scowled at her. “Lucy shouldn’t have shown you her parchment either. What was so funny about it anyway?”

Skye stuck her tongue out at him. “Of course, now you want to know.” She snickered again. “Lucy got Everett and has no idea what to get him. I told her maybe a braincell or two wouldn’t hurt.”

Orion tried to suppress his grin in vain, while even Lizzie started giggling again. Everett really didn’t seem to be the most popular member of their team.

“This is not what this game is about!” Murphy scolded, but he was grinning at Skye’s suggestion all the same. “Don’t ruin the Christmas spirit with your bad jokes.”

They were the only ones left in front of the fireplace. The other members of their team had one after the other filed away, now minding their own business. Skye sat down on the armrest of the sofa, resting her feet on the cushions.

“Speaking of Christmas, what are your plans this year?”

“I’m with my mum and grandma of course ,” Murphy told them while pointedly pushing Skye’s feet off the seat again. “Orion is going stay at the castle, I presume?”

Orion inclined his head. He always stayed at Hogwarts if he could.

“I’ll be with my family as well,” Lizzie added to the conversation. “We haven’t had a family Christmas for two years in a row now. My parents have been visiting my brother Jacob in the States.”

“I remember; you were at Weasley’s place for the past two years, weren’t you?” Skye mused. “That was when you and him- “

“Exactly; I’m really looking forward to being home for a bit,” Lizzie shut her friend up hurriedly.

Orion could see her cheeks blush slightly. He wondered why she was so intent on silencing Skye.

“It’ll be great to spend a bit of time with my family,” she quickly continued, brushing over Skye’s protest. “I’ll probably meet Penny some time as well; her family doesn’t live far from us.”

Skye had stopped protesting at her words; a sad expression shone in her eyes. The relationship between her and Penny was still strained, as far as Orion was aware.

He watched the girls chatter on about Christmas in silence. He saw Skye lean in to Lizzie. Although he didn’t mean to overhear their conversation, Skye was talking too loudly for him not to hear her words.

“You’re meeting Penny?” she asked silently. “Do you think you could talk to her on my behalf? Things are still so weird and I just want this to be over with,” she pleaded.

Lizzie shrugged. “Sure, I can try.”

“Smashing!”

Orion was still thinking about Skye’s request after the girls had left for the library and he and McNully had started a round of Wizards Chess. The Christmas break came at exactly the right time. It was an opportunity to look at things from a healthy distance and to get things back to order.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who was desperately in need of it.

[verfound]

FIC: Winters Hold the Longest Night: Part 1 (MLB/Lukanette, LBSC Sprint Challenge Secret Santa)

Rating: MA / E / Adult

Characters/Pairings: Naga!Luka Couffaine, Witch!Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Summary: The nights are getting longer, and colder, and Luka is more than happy to stay coiled up in their nice, warm nest to wait out the longest night of the year with his new mate.  But Marinette is human, and Marinette is a witch, and Marinette is excited to celebrate Yule with her new…friend.

Author’s Notes/Warnings: MERRY CHRISTMAS, CAP’N!!!!!!!!  Trying to hit two of your prompts here: (1) anything supernatural/monsters/mythological. Maybe learning each other's way of celebrating the holiday/season; and (2) domestic fluff! Marinette getting carried away decorating their house during their first Christmas being married.  And because I’m STUPID ambitious, I thought it would be great to set this during the Winters ‘verse?  Except I failed majorly at the whole “sprint fic” thing.  xD

[Yooooo there’s a long-ass note on Ao3 explaining how horribly I failed, but I’m hoping @chromemist doesn’t mind.  No one else at @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers seems to.  xD  There will be three more parts to this posted over the next week or so.  Pt3 is currently the only one that actually gets explicit, but rating to be safe.]

Winters Hold the Longest Night

Part 1: The First Yule

When Luka woke up, he was alone.

That wasn’t entirely unusual, especially this deep into the winter. His sleeping schedule, as Marinette would call it, was practically nonexistent (or maybe too existent) when all he seemed capable of doing was sleep.  He was used to waking up alone and going to bed alone. He usually awoke at some point during the night, after Marinette had joined him in their nest, but only just enough to pull her closer.

It was just his luck he would choose a witchling for a mate.  If she were a nagi, she would be brumating, too, and they would spend the season coiled around each other in their warm, cozy nest while the cold outside passed.  But if she was a nagi, she wouldn’t be Marinette.  He would take his winter cuddles where he could get them, if it meant they came from Marinette.  He wouldn’t change his mate for anything.

[deathnotesecretexchange]

Matsuda’s Gift Exchange

From: @s-w-o-l-o

To: @memekami

Prompt: Matsuda organizing a gift exchange 

Word count: 1982 

“No.”

Touta Matsuda blinked. “What?”

Shuichi Aizawa’s eyes never left his monitor. “You heard me, Matsuda.” 

Matusda frowned. Not surprised, but I didn’t expect such a short response. 

“Come onnn, Aizawa, this can raise the morale of the team!” 

“No.” Aizawa’s perpetually stern expression was unchanged. 

“It’s festive.”

Aizawa frowned. “Since when do you celebrate Christmas?” 

Matsuda shrugged his shoulders. “Since I saw online this thing the American’s call…dirty Santa?”

Aizawa’s typing stopped. “Is this a porn thing?”

Matsuda’s face reddened. “N-no! It’s a gift exchange. 

Aizawa paused what he was doing to finally give Matsuda a sideways glance. “What kind of gifts?”

Matsuda gave another hapless shrug. “Anything really! It’s really fun, everyone gets a gift, then we sit around and each chooses one randomly.”

Aizawa exhaled slowly. “I’ve barely got the time or money to buy my kids gifts, much less one for you guys.” 

“It’s nothing big! Maybe two to four hundred yen?” 

Aizawa frowned. “You really want to do this? Why?”

Matsuda let out a sigh, leaning back to his chair. “I don’t know sir…We’ve all just been working our asses off. More So lately than in the last five years, and…” He leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper, though they were the only two in the room. “The team needs this after what happened to the Chief.” 

Silence fell between the two as suddenly they tried everything in their power to avoid eye contact. It had only been a handful of weeks since Soichiro Yagami’s sudden passing following the team’s raid on the hideout of the terrorist only known as “Mello” and his allies from the American mafia. Father of fellow member Light Yagami, Soichiro commanded the respect of his subordinates- not only respect for his position but also for his character. The man had embodied honor, and his absence was felt heavily by the whole team. 

Aizawa shook his head. “Look…” He turned to Matsuda. “If you can get everyone- everyone- on board with this, and you set up a place and time.” He couldn’t believe he was saying this. “Then I’ll agree to this gift exchange of yours.” 

Matsuda was stunned. “Thank you sir!” He moved to hug Aizawa but was hastily pushed back into his chair. “Glad to see you’re feeling the Christmas spirit!” Matsuda gave him a wink. 

Aizawa tried to fight his grinning, jamming a thumb towards the door. “Its getting late, get home, you moron.” 

______________________________________________________________________________

With glee Matsuda closed before him. Aizawa was always going to be the most difficult to convince. With him on my side, the others should go along easily! As if by fate, at the end of the hall Matsuda spotted his colleagues Hideki Ide and Kanzo Mogi, chatting with each other. 

“Ide! Mogi!” Matsuda shouted, sprinting down the hallway, waving the two down. He could already tell Ide had a disgusted look on his face, while Mogi stared with the same unreadable expression as always. 

“Stop running in the halls, Matsuda, we’ve been over this.” Ide chided. “The floor below us is going to complain again.” 

“Sorry! I just had to talk to both of you before you went home.”

Ide grimaced. “What is it?” 

Matsuda gulped. Ide was never one to hide his distaste for him- even all the way back to five years ago when they first started working together, and since Ide had rejoined the investigation…nothing much had changed. Observing the man’s already annoyed expression, Matsuda knew he was already on the losing end of the ensuing discussion. Taking a deep breath, he began his pitch with renewed confidence. 

“We’ve been through alot these last few months, wouldn’t you two agree?” Ide and Mogi gave each other confused sideways glances, and nodded slowly. 

“I was just talking with Aizawa, and I thought it was a great idea for us to have a gift exchange!”

Ide raised an eyebrow. “A what exchange?” 

“A gift exchange! For Christmas!”

Ide put a hand over his face. “Ridiculous…” He halfway muttered. 

Matsuda pursed his lips. “Aizawa thought it was a good idea-”

“He probably said that to appease you,” Ide’s hand slipped away to reveal disappointed features. “We don’t have the time.” “The time? We’ve been chasing Kira for five years! A night to ourselves wouldn’t hurt!” 

Ide gritted his teeth. “It’s pointless!”

“It’s not!” Matsuda gave Mogi and imploring look. For once, the giant seemed flustered, looking back and forth between the glaring Ide and Matsuda. Finally, he raised a hand to speak. 

“It’s a nice gesture, Matsuda, but Ide’s right. With the chief gone, the work has increased for all of us, and with Mello now to contend with, every night must be devoted in finding him.” Mogi spoke with a calmness, and Matsuda could tell from his eyes that he was speaking truthfully, and not just to brush him off. 

Matsuda stared sadly at his feet. “I guess you’re right..” He put a hand in his pocket and crossed his fingers tightly. Mogi gave Ide a disapproving look and an elbow jab in the ribs. Ide cursed him under his breath and looked back to Matsuda. 

“Hey, stop moping.” Ide drew a deep breath. “What would this gift exchange entail?” 

Matsuda beamed. “We would each draw a name, get a small gift we think that person would like, and then get all together at a restaurant or someone’s home to exchange!” He looked earnestly at both of them. 

Mogi looked to Ide. “It’s harmless, really.”

Ide opened his mouth to object but received another glare from Mogi. From the disapproval of him and the eagerness of Matsuda, Ide finally caved. Rubbing his temples, he simply gave a slow nod.

“Yes!” Matsuda took them both by surprise by wrapping an arm about both and embracing the two. “You’ve made my day.”

“What’s this?” The three froze in place at the voice of none other than Light Yagami coming from behind them. Ide practically threw Matsuda to the floor trying to get him off as the three tried to regain their composure in Light’s presence. 

“N-nothing!” Ide’s voice cracked. He and Mogi gave each other a nervous glance. Any interaction with Light outside of official investigation work was a rarity, and even after five years the team truly never knew how to react to his presence. Light for his part gave the same smile he ever did. Matsuda always thought Light’s smile, though it looked friendly, always had a certain chilling nature about it. Despite his smile, his eyes were always intense- he almost looked to be dissecting any person he looked upon.

“Hey Mogi,” Ide gave him a quick pat on the back. “Thanks for the offer to drive me home!” He gave a completely unsubtle head to the stairway exiting the hall and Mogi was quick to pick up on his hints.

“Of course! You’re very welcome.” Mogi gave an unconvincing performance. The two gave their goodbyes and quickly departed, leaving Matsuda alone with Light. The latter turned and gave Matuda that same lifeless look he had given his subordinate a thousand times before. He stayed quiet, almost daring Matsuda to speak first. 

“Ah…Light, what luck.” Matsuda played with his hands. “I was just hoping I’d run into you before you went home.”

Light’s smile endured. “Yes, Matsuda? I haven’t long, so make it brief.”

Matsuda’s words fumbled. “I was talking it over with the others, and I had an idea for a team building- yes! A team building activity!” 

Light cocked his head. “What would this activity be?” 

“A gift exchange! I saw online how the Americans do it! We still have time before Christmas!”

Light blinked. “What?” 

“I think the Americans call it dirty Santa…or White Christmas…or…something with an elephant?” Matsuda’s mind was starting to wander. 

“Stop, stop.” Light raised a hand. “A gift exchange? Why would we partake in such a thing?” 

“Well you see, I know the whole team has been down since…” Matsuda took a deep breath. “Since your father’s passing. I believe something like this can-”

“Stop.” Light didn’t have to raise a hand this time, as Matsuda choked on his last words. “Who has expressed any such feeling since his death?”

Matsuda raised an eyebrow. How could he talk so nonchalant about his own dead father?

“No one, Light, I just have a knack for feeling this sort of thing. I think we would all enjoy a little distraction from everything that’s been going on, and I know your father would want us to-.”

“Now I want you to just stop talking entirely.” Straighten his tie. “I find it offensive that you dare to even assume what my father would want when you barely knew the man, and then you try to explain to me, his son, how he would feel.” Matsuda felt dead inside, but he knew Light had only just begun. “You also insult my father by implying he would condone this frivolous garbage, and not only is it pointless, but it distracts from our goal.” He seemed to loom over Matsuda as he spoke these next words. “Now, if you want to spend all of your time planning ridiculous social events, I can easily have you transferred to a more…blithe department.” 

Kira, kill me now. Just so I wouldn’t have to be here any longer. Matsuda gave a weak nod.

“My apologies, Light, I spoke out of turn and without regard. I won’t let such distractions interfere with my work again.” 

Light placed a hand on his shoulder. The grip was harder than Light was letting on. “Thank you, Matsuda, I’m glad you understand.” After an eternity, he released his hand. “Now if you excuse me, I must be heading home.” 

______________________________________________________________________________

Days later, Matsuda’s mood hadn’t improved in the slightest. He avoided Light as much as he could, and even the other three sensed that something had gone down between the two. Where Matsuda would usually hang around the investigation headquarters to chat with the team, now he was leaving as quickly as possible. All to avoid another unpleasant encounter with Light. 

A week after the confrontation, Matsuda noted that Aizawa and the others had packed their things and had left before him.

Weird. 

As he made his way onto the parking lot, in the ebbing sunlight he spotted three figures huddled around his convertible. He quickly realized as he drew closer that it was Aizawa, Mogi, and Ide. 

“You guys…?” 

Aizawa turned to him. “Matsuda!” He raised out a hand, clutching a small, wrapped box. 

Matsuda’s eyes widened as he realized what he held, and he noticed that the others held identical gifts as well. 

Aizawa noticed his confused glances. “We thought about it, and we decided your idea was a good one after all.”

“But Light-”

“What Light doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Mogi spoke.

Ide sighed. “Now do you have your gift or not? Our reservations are in half an hour.”

Matsuda couldn’t believe it. “Reservations!?”

Aizawa smiled. “Yeah, Mogi here got us a table at that fancy ramen place, Ichiraku.”

“That’s incredible!” Matsuda was beaming. “My gift has been in the car for weeks, I was actually going to throw it out tonight.”

“Well, good thing you didn’t!” Aizawa laughed. “Now, you’re driving.”

“Ah hell, Matsuda is a terrible driver!” Ide complained. 

“Stop complaining and get in, Ide,” Mogi gave him a slap on the back of neck.

“Thanks for this guys” Matsuda said as he got into the car. “I really…” Aizawa noticed the heaviness that overcame him.

“Don’t sweat it, Matsuda, just drive. I’m starving!”

Matsuda smiled. Soon the four were on their way “Hey guys! I almost forgot, I burned a CD of some Christmas music. There’s a really good one on here, its called…What I want- No! All I want for Christmas!”

[theofficersacademy]

The warmth of the Goddess’ blessing has blanketed the land in a rich array of color, and the people whisper their prayers for the year’s crop to grow bountiful under her care. As they wait, hearts and minds turn to thoughts of love and friendship, women weaving fresh petals into lush garlands as gifts for close friends, or to court the attention of a hopeful lover.

With the warmer weather comes more activity along the continent’s coastline, however. The city of Enbarr, the capital of the Adrestian Empire, has long enjoyed its position as the largest and wealthiest port of southern Fódlan. Its reputation for safe and secure trade has been called into question though after a recent string of stolen shipments occurred in Adrestian waters. The Church has heard the desperate pleas of the people, and now sends you to investigate the matter and bring the perpetrators to justice.

Black Eagles Mission: Investigate the thefts!

Welcome to TOA’s first house-centric mission season since April! This season’s mission will be focused on the Black Eagle house, but there are also non-mission tasks available as well. (Please see the FAQ for details on how this works, even if you’ve read the FAQ before.)

Aside from the BE mission, there are other fun things taking place! This season will run from Garland Moon to Blue Sea Moon in TOA canon, but since it’s November-December in real life, some of our non-mission tasks are going to be in honor of the holidays (Fódlan celebrates Thanksgiving in June and Christmas in July)! Take a look!

BE Mission Task Board

Enbarr, the Imperial Capital, the crowning jewel of Fódlan, the place where Saint Seiros first alighted on this continent, the genesis of all civilization… A city that predates the Empire itself is bound to be filled with rich history and places to see. Take advantage of his opportunity and see what you can find!

The merchants, based on their personal experience, claim that the attackers were simply pirates, with no specific targets except for anyone with potential loot. Their stories share one consistent fact: that the pirates flew a yellow banner, bearing the emblem of a brown horse leaping over a lemon. They would investigate, if only they had the funds and supplies. Hey–so long as you’re bothering them all the time, why not help them out? Time is money, and you’re wasting theirs!

The nobility, having done their own investigations, claim that they have spotted ships flying a flag with a very specific emblem on it, one that originates from the Dagdan continent. They’ve always considered this truce with Dagda to be a fragile one at best, and the youngest of the group are itching for a chance to go to war. They’re also not too happy about potentially sharing the glory–you’ll have to work whatever magic you have if you want them to give up anything valuable.

You’ve learned about defensive structures from studying the battlements of Garreg Mach, but Enbarr offers a fresh perspective on city defense in an area that you’ve had little opportunity to study: defending against attacks from the sea. Enbarr’s city-watch has gladly allowed students and faculty of the Officers Academy to marvel at their state-of-the-art onagers, crucial for fending off enemy ships. It’s a unique opportunity, so you better not squander it! [Bows +1]

One way or the other, you find yourself on a ship to patrol Enbarr’s shores. It’s a tense journey, to be sure, and you watch as the sailors frequently look out to the ocean for the marauders. An alarm bell rings above you, and the crew erupts in a panic. “They’re here! They’re coming!” None of your professors have ever taught you how to fight on a boat, but sometimes experience is the best teacher. Hope you’re a quick study! [Any Weapon +1]

NEW! At last there’s a breakthrough in the investigation. A patrol brings news of an isle off the northern coast that seems to have some sort of habitation, evinced by the boats seen coming to and from the place. You’re sent to check it out from a safe distance and report your findings to the Knights of Seiros. The ocean, however, has other plans, and a sudden storm turns the waters rough as you enter the shallows. Whether you’ve planned for it or not, you’ve found yourself washed ashore this island... There’s smoke rising from the trees in the distance. Good news? Probably not. [Grants Gauntlet +1]

NEW! There’s a smaller isle off the coast of the larger one, and at a glance it seems to be nothing more than a collection of rocks. Someone in your party insists on investigating it, and sure enough... it’s an island made entirely of jagged rock. But before you shove off again to spend your time more wisely, you stumble across what appears to be a trapdoor buried beneath the stone. Inside? A treasure cache of gold, odd trinkets, and - strangely - a ridged, bone-white weapon that bears a resemblance to one you’ve seen before...

Non-Mission Task Board

The Garland Moon has come once again and brings, well, the garlands! The Pages of the Blessed Incunabula, a book club, is hosting their annual costume contest! Dress as your interpretation of characters from songs and stories and enter to see if you win! There is a category for each house, encouraging students to use their own country’s folktales. Winners get the special Lion’s Garland, a gigantic wreath of flowers that is traditionally refused by the victor and granted instead to a close friend or (potential) lover. Make your costume and fantasize about who you’ll give the Garland to (or grumble about why you can’t keep it for yourself).

Have you been searching for a hobby that blends your singing talent and love for melodrama? Well, search no more! Thespian blood runs through your veins, and the Garreg Mach Theatre Club is in need of fresh meat–ah, members–to fill their ranks for the Choir Festival! Whether you’re singing your heart out, building the sets, or making constant references to your favorite opera, help put on a musical rendition of The Lament of Saint Macuil! [Faith or Authority +1]

The Inter-House Reception is a traditional event on the 29th of the Garland Moon intended to bring down walls between students of different backgrounds at the academy. This year, it’s a grand feast in a potluck style! Bring your own dishes to the dining hall and share with all your friends. Try not to poison them though.

Wild beasts have been spotted in great flocks outside the walls of Garreg Machs. The giant birds don’t seem to be gathering to attack the monastery, but the Church can’t be too careful. Go figure out what’s been calling the creatures to the fields in such large numbers, but try not to be maimed for inciting their territorial defense. Befriend them, hunt them, or maybe even try to tame them -- good luck! [grants Flying or Riding +1]

NEW! The Rite of Rebirth is one of the most important days of the year, and in some ways also one of the most dangerous. With the Holy Tomb open to visitors for a single day, security needs to be tight to handle the massive crowds coming from all over the continent. Students with availability have been asked to help patrol. Hopefully no one causes a commotion. [Grants Lance +1]

NEW! There’s a special tea brewed for the Rite of Rebirth. The leaves must be kept fresh, so there’s no stock of them in the monastery. Archbishop Rhea calls a handful of students with free time to venture into the mountains to gather the incandescent flowers that grow at its peak. The mountain is under protection of the monastery and frequently patrolled by the Knights so the trek should not be dangerous. But as you near the top, you find that snow has blanketed the peak. Even stranger than that are the houses built out of ice, though no one seems to live here. Is this the work of magic or... something else? Whatever the case, you decide to take some time to enjoy this mid-summer winter wonderland.

NEW! As the sky is believed to be the home of the Goddess, the stars are thought to be the souls who have departed this world to join her. With the shorter nights, the Blue Sea Moon is the month when the barrier between the world of mortals and the world of the divine is thought to be the thinnest. Late at night, when the sun has finally disappeared completely, the people of Fódlan take some time to commune with their departed loved ones.

Frequently Asked Questions

How does the divided task board work?

This season’s mission is assigned to the Black Eagles. Therefore, tasks from the ‘BE Mission Task Board’ must be undertaken by someone that is affiliated with the Black Eagles.

Tasks from the ‘Non-Mission Task Board’ have no house restriction and can be undertaken by anyone.

These aren’t the only threads I can do, right?

Of course not! These are just prompts to help give some ideas of possibilities. You’re always free and encouraged to make up your own threads. You’re also more than welcome to worldbuild on your own, using these prompts as a base.

How do I claim the skill points?

In order to qualify for the skill point, the thread must clearly allude to the listed task and preferably feature the task being completed; however, the point can still be claimed even if your muses narratively fail the task (failure is sometimes just as fun to write as success, after all). You do not need to message the masterlist to claim your skill point.

Can I only do one task?

Nope, you can do as many as you’d like with as many different partners as you’d like! You can do the same task with more than one person! However, you can only claim the skill point for each task once.

What if my partner leaves or drops a skill point thread?

If the dropped thread has at least 2 notes (not counting likes, only reblogs with replies in them) and you have hit at least 400 words on your end, you may still claim the skill point.

Remember to use (and track!) the #toa open tag for any open threads, and you can also post a link to your open thread on the appropriate Discord channel! If you have any other questions or concerns, shoot us a message through the masterlist or on Discord!

[maggicsorceress]

Prompt: Nightmare x Killer, learning each other’s holiday traditions (and maybe coming up with some news ones too?)

Mmmmm this prompt is some good shit 👌🏻👌🏻 thank you hon! 😌✨

I own none of these characters!

~~

Nightmare wasn’t super into the holidays. Don’t get him wrong, he loved getting to spend time with the people he cared about, and there was always a certain air that fell upon everyone around Christmas time that made everything look new and fresh and beautiful. So, probably more realistically, he didn’t care for the materialistic side of the holiday.

Growing up with Dream and their mother, their Christmas celebrations were always very...tame. They did a lot of baking together, and there generally weren’t many gifts under the Christmas tree, but neither of the brothers were disappointed by the lack of gifts, and grew up relatively humble as a result.

When their mother died, Dream and Nightmare kept up the traditions she had taught them and, no matter where they were or what they were doing, they spent Christmas together.

But not this year.

This year, things were different.

Despite how much his brother had reassured him, Nightmare still felt a little bad about leaving him to spend Christmas with Killer instead. Dream had Cross though, so he was sure he would be fine.

He would admit that he was not prepared for how vastly different his and his boyfriend’s holiday traditions were.

“Killer?” Nightmare said. “What, in God’s name, is that?”

‘That’ being a worn elf doll propped up on a bookshelf in Killer’s living room. It was situated so that it appeared to be sitting, plush legs hanging over the edge of the shelf. Nightmare had only been over for about an hour and already he was seeing so many strange things. The elf, a strange plant hanging from the ceiling in a doorway, the sheer amount of lights Killer had strung up outside, and not to mention the way the entire house smelled violently of cinnamon.

“What do you mean?” Killer asked, raising his head to look where Nightmare was pointing. “Oh, the elf on the shelf?”

“The what on the what?”

“The elf on the shelf.” Killer laughed. “What, you’ve never seen one before?”

“Is this another one of your rediculous decorating things?” Nightmare said. “Like the plant hanging from the ceiling back there?”

“No, the elf on the shelf is a super fun game! You move it around until Christmas, so every time you see it it’s in a different place.” Killer explained. “And don’t tell me you’ve never hung mistletoe before! You know what that is, right?”

“First of all, that elf thing sounds completely rediculous.” Nightmare said. “Secondly, of course I know what mistletoe is, but no I’ve never hung it in my house.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, gee, I don’t know.” Nightmare said, sarcastic. “I don’t know why I never hung mistletoe in the house I shared with only my brother for about five years.”

Killer burst out laughing and made his way across the room to the couch where Nightmare was sitting, plopping down next to him and throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“Poor Dream.” Killer said. “His brother is so cruel.”

“I love Dream, but I sure as hell am not gonna kiss him.”

Killer shrugged and raised a hand to gently cup Nightmare’s jaw, pulling their faces close. “More for me then, I guess.”

Nightmare snorted and leaned forward to peck Killer lightly on the lips. “Dork.”

“You know it.” Killer said with a sigh. “So, if you don’t hang mistletoe or put an elf on the shelf, what do you do for the holidays?”

“Well, there’s...what? Five days ‘til Christmas?” Nightmare thought out loud. “Do you have a Christmas tree?”

“Yeah.” Killer said. “It’s in the shed.”

Nightmare blinked. “Why...why is it in the shed?”

“‘Cause I...have to put it somewhere for the rest of the year?”

“You...have a plastic tree.”

“Yeah?” Killer said, confused.

Nightmare heaved a heat sigh and stood up, holding out a hand for Killer.

“Well,” He began, “I guess now is my chance to add in one of my own traditions. C’mon, we’re going out.”

~

The drive wasn’t a very long one, and before long they were pulling into a nearly empty gravel parking area. It had snowed recently, so the ground was covered by a crisp coating of white. They were a little on the outskirts of town, where trees grew tall around them and the roads were more dirt than pavement, but Nightmare had been coming out here since he was a kid. Together, he and Killer stepped out of the car and looked around. There was a large house in the distance, and at the edge of the parking area a family sat around a fire pit in camping chairs. When they saw Nightmare, they waved.

“A little late this year, aren’t you?” One of the men called. Nightmare laughed.

“Dream and I are switching it up this year.” Nightmare said. He gestured to Killer. “I have to educate this heathen on proper Christmas trees.”

The family laughed and the man spoke again. “We’ve got a few good ones left. Holler when you find one you like!”

“Thanks!” Nightmare called back, reaching out and taking Killer’s hand. “Let’s go.”

He led Killer down a narrow, muddy pathway and out into a field of decently sized pine trees. They grew in rows, in an array of shapes and sizes and smells, and Nightmare turned to look at Killer.

“Welcome to one of my holiday traditions:” Nightmare said. “Cutting down our Christmas tree.”

“You get a real tree?” Killer clarified. “Every year?”

“Yep.”

Killer whistled. “Damn. How do you even get it home?”

“You strap it to the roof.” Nightmare said with a shrug.

“Damn...”

“It’s not that hard to do with an extra set of hands.” Nightmare said. “Dream was always with me, so it didn’t take that long.”

“But...why go out and deal with that every year when you can just buy a plastic one and reuse it?” Killer asked.

“Because,” Nightmare began, tugging Killer towards a nearby pine tree, “fake trees don’t smell this nice.”

The air around them was tinged with the sharp scent of fresh pine and chipped bark, the scent intensified by the chill of the winter wind. It was one of the reasons Nightmare refused to get a fake tree. The scent held so many memories. Tugging gently on Killer’s hand, he urged the other to walk along with him, crunching through ankle deep snow.

“We came here every year.” Nightmare said, nostalgia flooding through him. “I don’t even remember how old I was when my mom first brought us here.”

“It’s so peaceful.” Killer said as he gave their joined hands a squeeze. “And beautiful.”

Nightmare hummed and they continued down the rows of pine trees in silence, admiring the atmosphere that drifted around them like gently falling snow, and then, Nightmare laughed.

“When I was little, me and Dream used to play around out here instead of helping our mom look for a tree.” Nightmare said. “She’d always get so upset about how soaked our coats got.”

Killer chuckled. “That’s cute.”

“Yeah.”

They stopped their winter stroll by a pine just a few inches taller than Killer. It was a nice shape, with sturdy branches and deep green needles, and it’s scent was heavy in the air around it.

“This one is nice.” Killer said.

“Yeah, it is.” Nightmare agreed, pacing a circle around the tree. “Will it fit in your living room?”

“Looks like it. Do you want me to go let those people know?”

Nightmare gave pause, gaze wandering from the tree to the beautiful scenery that surrounded them, and found that he didn’t want to leave this moment just yet.

“Later.” He said to Killer. “...I want to enjoy this a while longer.”

Killer smiled, and it was as bright and beautiful as the snow.

~

“So,” Killer began, later that night, when the tree had been put up and decorated, and they were cuddled up on the couch with steaming mugs of hot chocolate, “I was thinking...”

“Oh boy...” Nightmare mumbled into the rim of his mug.

“Hey!” Killer whined. “Let me explain my idea before you get snarky with me!”

“Alright, alright, what is it?”

“So, since it’s just the two of us this year, and we only got presents for each other...” Killer said, rubbing gentle circles into Nightmare’s shoulder with a thumb. “I thought that maybe, instead of waiting until Christmas morning to exchange gifts, we could do it on Christmas Eve? That way, we can sleep in before going out for breakfast.”

Letting out a deep, relaxed sigh, Nightmare skunk further into Killer’s embrace, head resting on the slope where Killer’s neck met his collar bone.

“Yeah, I like that.” Nightmare said. “That sounds really nice.”

[welllpthisishappening]

Winning a World Series has its benefits. 

Backpage spreads in New York tabloids, a parade, a seemingly never-ending amount of champagne. And a trip to Disney World. Emma was fairly certain that was a joke. Until she’s standing outside of Hollywood Studios and Killian has done research about rides and that’s kind of messing with her head a bit. 

As is everyone’s determination to get the high score on the Buzz Lightyear ride in Magic Kingdom. 

Because while you can take the baseball player off the diamond, you apparently can’t take the competition out of the athlete. Even at Disney World. 

----

Rating: Honestly like the lowest level T. Mostly for the trash talk.  Word Count: 7.7K AN: Oh hai there, internet! Approximately a million years ago I asked for prompts before Justin and I went to Disney for Christmas and @distant-rose​​ sent me this: “Babes, love of my internet life, am I allowed to prompt you? In honor of Gerrit Cole becoming a Yankees, may I ask for a combo of Killian in pinstripes and a Disney World Christmas if possible? Bonus points for Captain Cobra goodness. Love you! Have I mentioned that?“ Because of who I am as a person, this is...only kind of that. Instead it’s in that one baseball ‘verse where Killian’s on the Yankees and David is on the Red Sox and this whole story is honestly almost too autobiographical. Anyway, I did this instead of work today. 

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll ||

----

She kind of thought it was an urban legend. 

Something spoken in hushed whispers, nothing more than a photo-op or overblown publicity stunt for corporate America with hats that no one really wanted to wear and t-shirts already damp from on-field champagne celebrations. 

Emma has never been happier to have been proved wrong. 

Even if she’s also pretty positive that her championship t-shirt will never be entirely dry again. Or smell like anything except champagne. 

She’s not sure she’s done anything except smile in the last forty-eight hours. 

Between the parade and the photo-ops that did happen, flashing lights and back-page spreads, she’s admittedly a little exhausted and just a little overwhelmed, but Killian’s arm also seems to be glued to her shoulders and that’s kind of nice. Especially because it’s a little colder in Florida than she thought it would be. 

They’ve won a World Series. 

And now they’re going to Disney World. 

Or, well—they’re already in Disney World. The specifics aren’t important. It’s very early in the morning, Emma figures that’s enough of an excuse. 

And they keep drinking champagne. 

And sparkling wine. 

Just a seemingly never-ending supply of sparkling wine. From the Italy pavilion in EPCOT. 

It keeps getting delivered to their room. 

“Should have brought a jacket,” Killian mutters, mostly into Emma's hair and she doesn’t have to glance up to know he’s doing that stupid thing with his mouth. Also known as smiling. Smirking, even. 

“No one likes a told you so,” she argues.

“Is that a phrase?” Emma makes a noise in the back of her throat, flicking her finger against Killian’s chest when he actually has the gall to laugh at her. “Shut up, World Series champion. And stop moving so much. You keep shifting and shaking and then you take the heat with you.” “Am I the heat in this scenario?” “There’s a joke about the hot corner here,” David says. He’s got his own arm around Mary Margaret, her head drifting towards his shoulder every few moments and Leo fell asleep almost as soon as they left the hotel. 

Very early. 

Earlier than—actually, Emma has no idea what time it is, and she cannot quite wrap her mind around the number of people who are also here, all of them mulling around the still-locked entrance to Hollywood Studios with their phones out, like they’re waiting for instructions or something. 

Killian taps his thumb on his phone. More than once. And sighs, more than once. “Was that you making the joke?” he asks suddenly, as if he’s only just processed David’s words. 

“Slow on the uptake, huh?” “It’s because we haven’t gotten any coffee yet,” Mary Margaret mumbles. The words are difficult to hear when they’re mostly spoken into David’s t-shirt and none of them had explicitly decided not to wear team-branded merchandise, but they’ve only been stopped for autographs twice and it’s been kind of fun to just...celebrate. 

Emma’s not sure this exact scenario falls under that umbrella. 

“We had to do it this way,” Killian says, not for the first time and Emma knows she nods in something almost resembling placating spousal support. Her hair moves, at least. And the kid in her arms barely stirs, falling asleep a few minutes after Leo because it might not even be six in the morning yet. 

“So we’ve heard, babe,” she says. “Super serious business.” He scowls. Emma still hasn’t looked up yet. 

“If we got here after the park opened,” Killian starts, and David might groan weakly because they really have heard the explanation half a dozen times already, “then the boarding parties would have already been filled and we wouldn’t be able to get on this ride that—” “—TripAdvisor has called the start of a new generation of rides,” Mary Margaret and Emma say in tandem. 

Killian clicks his tongue. 

“Did we offend you, Mr. World Series MVP?” Emma asks, all innocence and her chin digging into Killian when she, finally, tilts her head up. 

He is, in fact, scowling. But it’s also kind of cute and also kind of endearing and Ellie keeps burrowing herself close to Emma, which does something to the overall state of her heart, so she can’t really be that upset about anything. 

People aren’t allowed to be upset at Disney World, anyway. 

By like—rule. Of humans, or whatever. 

“Can you say boarding parties again, though?” Mark Margaret asks, not quite able to get the words out without laughing. 

Killian huffs. “You guys are the Star Wars nerds, not me. I am doing this for you. Plus, the internet really thinks this is the greatest ride ever made.” “They said exactly?” “Who is the internet in this scenario?” Emma asks. “Is that just—like did they poll people? Babe, are you looking up polls about Star Wars rides?” “It’s supposed to be better than the Avatar one,” Killian reasons. 

“Yeah, well, no one actually remembers the plot of Avatar, that’s why. Just that one scene with the tree and Zoe Saldana’s character and—” Emma cuts herself off when Ellie moves again, a knee to her side and sleep-tinged words pressed to the side of her neck. There’s hair dangerously close to her mouth now. 

Mary Margaret’s shoulders are shaking. “And is the phrase boarding party better or worse than referring to the internet in the collective?”

“I don’t think you’re as tired as you claim to be,” Killian says. “If you can use the word collective like that.” “Feel free to be impressed by extensive knowledge of the English language.” “I absolutely am.” “And speaking of World Series MVP,” David adds, “couldn’t you have pulled some strings or something here?” “That’s a Pinocchio joke,” Emma mutters, the muscles in her cheeks threatening to stage some kind of biological mutiny when her smile stretches even wider. Killian’s expression changes slightly, not quite the smirk or even the put-upon frustration from their teasing because he really has researched this Star Wars ride more than all of them combined. 

If they don’t get a good boarding party, Emma’s going to force the Disney people to give them more sparkling wine. 

On principle. 

“You think you’re very funny, don’t you?” Emma shrugs. “I think I know I’m funny and David thinks you should have used your World Series clout—” “—Oh that’s a good word too,” Mary Margaret says. 

“To get first dibs on the fancy Star Wars ride,” Emma continues. “And then we wouldn’t have to get out of bed so early because the pillows here are ridiculous.” “Is ridiculous good in this scenario?” Killian asks. 

“Was that not obvious?”

“What do you think it is about the pillows, exactly? Overall neck support? Fluffiness? Just vacation-pillow characteristics?” “Vacation-pillow is definitely the lamest thing you’ve said so far today,” Emma laughs, a soft sigh of thanks when Killian pulls Ellie into his arms. There’s no threat of hair in her mouth anymore, and a chance to give her arms a rest, but it also means that she’s now responsible for Killian’s phone and whatever it will do once Hollywood Studios does, actually, open. 

“Maybe we can ask the Boardwalk people where they get their pillows,” Killian suggests. “Stock up or something.” “You say that like I’m not actually going to do it.” “Oh, no I’ve got every belief that you’ll one-hundred percent do it, but—” “—Why didn’t we tell the Boardwalk people that we were very athletic and very important and use that to get on Rise of the Resistance first?” David interrupts. “Also, I just want it noted for the record that the clown in the pool is super freaky.” “Super freaky is definitely a lamer string of words than vacation-pillow, don’t you think?” Killian asks Emma. She has to bite the inside of her lip to stop from laughing 

Cackling, maybe. 

It’s too early in the morning for cackling.

“And,” he adds, “while I do agree with the inherent creepiness of the pool-clown—” “—Oh, God, don’t say it like that,” Mary Margaret says, “that makes it even worse.” Killian lifts his eyebrows. Emma’s going to bite her lower lip in half. “We didn’t tell anyone that we wanted special treatment because then we’d have to act like we’re special.” “That’s decidedly self-effacing, World Series MVP.” “C’mon, now you’re just showing off,” Emma accuses, fingers reaching up to toy with the ring that’s fallen over the front of her shirt. Killian’s eyebrows shift again. 

“It’s not,” he says. “It’s just—do you guys want to be taking pictures the whole time we’re here? None of us are really going to wear team stuff and—” “—That’s just because David is embarrassed to wear team stuff,” Emma points. “Sucks to lose in the Wild Card, doesn’t it, Nolan?

David sneers. “I think I’m the heat in that joke from before. Depending on what I’m throwing. Definitely if it’s a slider.” “What?” “I”m too tired to go over this with you again. Also, your phone is doing something.”

Emma startles at the vibration she hadn’t really noticed before, arm practically flying into Killian’s bicep like he’ll be able to do something or fix something and it has been kind of nice to just be in their own Disney bubble for the last forty-eight hours. 

Even with the freaky pool clown. 

She can’t fathom the person who approved that. 

It’s enormous. 

And freaky as all fuck. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Killian chants, and Emma is honestly impressed when he manages to find her hand and keep Ellie from waking up, tugging her towards the gates while Mary Margaret and David do their best to keep up. Leo is definitely awake now. And does not sound particularly pleased to be there. 

Killian is bobbing on the balls of his feet as soon as they get in line, an excitement that’s catching, even as they scan their MagicBands to get into the park — which may be the single most endearing thing Emma has ever seen, even with the World Series and the parade and the whole arm around her shoulder thing. 

Her face muscles are never going to recover from this trip. 

The ride is pretty damn cool. 

It’s long and requires more walking than Emma is entirely ready for, but she and Mary Margaret boo Kylo Ren like he’s actually there and not some computer fabrication and Ellie gasps and giggles at least fifteen different times when they start flying away from the First Order, so that’s just about the best thing that’s ever happened. 

And David gets yelled at by a Stormtrooper. 

“It’s because he’s short,” Emma mutters, tugging lightly on Killian’s shirtsleeve. “Get it?” Killian hums. “We’ve already decided you’re hysterical, love. You don’t have to keep trying to prove it.” “What’s that about the inherent competitive nature of athletes?” “Too many words.” “Right, right, right,” Emma nods. She tilts her head again, even as they file off the ride and their boarding party hadn’t been until that afternoon. They’re all well-rested and ready for more park and more wine and it doesn’t take long for her to press her lips to the side of Killian’s cheek. “And here I thought the playoffs were over. You’re all scruff over here, Jones.” “Who’s scruffy looking?” Emma rolls her eyes, but her heart is definitely threatening to explode in her chest and maybe there’s something to be sad for mid-day naps and vacation pillows. Like they make everything better. Winning the World Series probably didn’t hurt either. “I love you.”

That makes Killian grin. “I know.” “Idiot.” “Exactly that,” he agrees, arm finding its way back around her shoulder as he hitches Ellie against his side and kisses exactly where his lips land. On the top of Emma’s hair. 

They get a picture in front of Rey’s speeder. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to hold it like that,” Emma says. “Wouldn’t the ions cut off your arm pretty quickly?” Killian blinks. “Do ions make up a lightsaber?” “No,” David answers, but he’s also holding his lightsaber by resting it on his shoulder like it’s a makeshift bat, which Emma figures proves her point. 

“You are not a lightsaber expert,” Emma argues. “Plus you picked a dumb color.” “Blue is not a dumb color!” “Eh…” David huffs — like this is actually some sort of insulting conversation. Emma smiles. Like she’s won. Something. Maybe blue milk from that one drink stand. 

Killian claims the internet liked blue better than green. 

“Lightsabers are fueled by kyber crystals,” Mary Margaret announces, shrugging when she’s met with three identical stunned faces. She clicks her tongue when none of them show any sign of moving, frozen in the middle of the line for Smuggler’s Run and Emma is admittedly more excited to fly the Millennium Falcon than she is about—

Much of anything. 

Except maybe the World Series. 

Winning a championship is definitely better than flying the Millennium Falcon. Probably. She’s sure. Kind of. After all, she’s only done one so far. 

“Why do you know that?” David balks. “How do you know that?” Mary Margaret waves her phone in his face. “Killian isn’t the only one who can claim the internet as support for his argument. Also, now we have a dinner reservation.” “Where?” “The Grand Floridian Cafe, which means we can go to Magic Kingdom at night and—” “—Churros?” Emma finishes, and it comes out like a question, but it’s really more like a demand and Mary Margaret winks. With a rather pointed finger added for extra agreement. 

“You two are obsessed,” David sighs. 

“You ate an entire thing on your own the other night!”

“Only because Leo couldn’t possibly be expected to eat all of them on his own.” “Yuh huh, whatever you have to keep telling yourself. What was that about offseason workouts?” Killian has to duck his head against Emma’s shoulder to avoid drawing attention to them, but his laugh is still pretty loud and Mary Margaret’s shoulders are doing that thing again and—“You know what?” David challenges. “I’m going to make sure that I get to be captain of the Millennium Falcon and then I’m going to fly us directly into Hyperspace.” “Is that not the point of the ride?” Emma asks, eyes flitting towards Killian. 

He shakes his head. “Part of the ride. And you’re not captain of the Millennium Falcon, Nolan. Only Han Solo gets to be that.” “Babe, are you offended on behalf of Han Solo, right now?” “You get to be a pilot.” “God, that sounds like a lot of responsibility.” He hums again, another kiss to the curve of her jaw and fingers that dance up Ellie’s back. She giggles. “We”ll make sure you’re an engineer, huh, Swan?” 

“Pity role.” “I want to shoot something,” Mary Margaret announces. 

“I think we can do that.”

They do just that. 

Switching cards and they’re not really supposed to do that, but this is vacation and maybe everything that happens after that is some sort of vacation-type karmic retribution. 

Because the switch is the start of their problems — if that’s even the right term. It’s not, but Emma’s way too busy laughing and shouting and flying through Hyperspace is exactly as cool as she thought it would have been when she was nine. 

But there is something to be said for the inherent competitive nature of athletes. 

And Killian and David have always been on the close-to-insane end of that particular spectrum. 

“Shoot, shoot, shoot,” David yells, sitting at the front of the cockpit, and that might not be the right term either. “We’re getting hit! Shields down! Shields down!” “Repeating it more than once does not reinforce your point,” Killian grumbles. He’s sitting opposite of Mary Margaret, stabbing his finger into the button that controls his makeshift gun and there are definitely tears in Emma’s eyes. 

Ellie is giggling again, all but slamming her hands flat against the console of buttons, while Leo’s concept of steering threatens to drive them into a black hole. 

Drive probably isn’t the right term for a spaceship anyway. 

The cockpit shakes again — David shouting some words and mumbling others, still aware of the kids and the overall Disney-vibe they’re going for, but Emma can see just how straight his shoulders have gone. He hits another button, twisting so he can yell— “Can you two just hold it steady, please?” “Captaincy has gone to his head,” Mary Margaret mumbles, and Emma can just make out the exact way Killian’s lips twitch. “Maybe we should stage a mutiny or something.” “Do you know how to do that?” “Get off the ride eventually?” “Oh, yeah good call.” “Watch out for that space garbage,” Emma yells, pointing at the screen and David curses again. Ellie laughs. Loudly. And she barely notices her own button, lighting up, which is apparently some indication that she’s supposed to do something, but Emma was never much of a video game kid and she’s not a professional athlete either, so she figures her hand-eye coordination is allowed to be less-than-impressive. 

They get hit by the space garbage. 

Even as they’re getting ready to go back to Hyperspace. “Emma, can you not be the worst engineer on this ship?” David cries. “Fix our shields!” “You are taking this way too seriously,” Emma shouts back, but she’s a little worried she’s actually going to break her button. So, maybe they’re all competitive idiots. 

Ellie is definitely a better engineer than she is. 

And they all gasp and groan as if they’re actually landing as soon as the ship skids to a stop at the drop-off point they’ve been trying to get to for the entire ride. Emma jerks forward, the seat belt digging into her stomach and her heart beating quickly, a mix of adrenaline and fun and—

“Best captain in the galaxy,” David announces.

Mary Margaret boos him. 

“Traitor!” “You come back here and fight the First Order then,” she challenges, Killian unbuckling so he can grab Ellie and they can get off the ride and Emma isn’t surprised when he mumbles—

“We’re going to have to take him down a peg, don’t you think, love?” Emma grins. “Game on, MVP.”

It goes from there. 

They’re all competitive idiots and this is an amusement park, so there’s not competition that’s immediately obvious, but they manage to find their fair share. 

And make it when they can’t find it. 

David eats more churros in Magic Kingdom later that night. 

And they discover Buzz Lightyear Laser Blast. 

Complete with its tallied score. 

And names for reaching certain levels of points. 

“Oh God,” Emma sighs when they get off, the closest cast member smiling at her and telling her to have a magical night. 

Mary Margaret hums in understanding. “How long do you think it takes for them to start looking up cheat codes?” “Killian looked up tips on how to pull that string thing faster on Toy Story Mania last night, so…” “I told you that in confidence, Swan,” Killian yells, a few steps ahead of them with his hand tangled in Ellie’s. Her sparkle-covered ears are threatening to fall on the ground. 

Emma shakes her head when Mary Margaret glances in her direction. “He thought he was being very secret, looking stuff up under the cloak of darkness, but—” “—David’s been practicing rope-tugging rhythm.” “Are you kidding me?” “Would I do that?” “We’re going to ride the People Mover now,” David announces, like that will end the conversation or distract Emma from how frustratingly and impressively competitive they all are. She had not been good at the Buzz Lightyear ride. At all. 

She’s not even sure where she’s aiming her laser thing in the picture. 

“No one is against that,” Mary Margaret reasons. “As long as we don’t have to ride The Carousel of—” “—Don’t say it,” Killian warns. “It’ll get stuck in our head and there’ll be singing and—”

It’s too late. 

The damage has been done. 

Mary Margaret at least has the common decency to look repentant — as both Ellie and Leo do, in fact, start singing at the top of their lungs, heads tilted back as soon as they step on the automatic track up towards the People Mover. 

“There’s a great big beautiful tomorrow,” they start, and Emma tries to get her phone out before anyone notices. Both Killian and David beat her to it. 

Stupid athletes. 

“Shining at the end of every day,” she joins. Killian’s eyes get bluer, she’s sure. Bright under the night-time lights of Tomorrowland, a place that is very quickly becoming one of her favorite spots in all of the parks. 

Killian slings an arm over her shoulder. And holds the phone in front of them. 

“There’s a great, big beautiful tomorrow,” he half-sings under his breath, grinning when Emma’s lips graze his cheek. “And tomorrow’s just a dream away,” Emma finishes. She nips at the side of his ear, only stumbling slightly when they twist into the cars and the carts and she’s really got to learn the right terminology for all these things. 

Killian looks up Buzz Lightyear cheat codes later. 

After they eat more churros. 

Obviously. 

“I can’t believe we waited in line for that,” Killian grouses, that particular string of words becoming something of a mantra as they make their way back towards Fantasyland.

“You’ve got to let it go, babe,” Emma says. “And technically we didn’t wait. We had fast-passes. Can you imagine if we had to wait as long as everyone else?”

That’s also not the first time she’s said that. 

Mary Margaret’s hand is over her mouth. 

“It was so dumb, though!” “It wasn’t dumb,” Emma argues. “It was—magical. We flew over London!” “We moved at a snail’s pace over London and saw vaguely racist depictions of that one part of Neverland while the sound of that cast member telling us to watch our step played on loop in every single corner of my mind.” “You’re very dramatic. Is it because you want a turkey leg?” “I do not want a turkey leg.” “No?” “No,” Killian echoes. “I want to know why anyone in their right mind would wait an hour and a half for Peter Pan’s garbage ride of garbage.” “You should suggest they call it that from now on.” “Don’t think I won’t. I’m a very important athlete, you know?” “If that’s how we choose to use our athlete powers, then I’m going to be really annoyed,” David says. “Plus—Peter Pan was not It’s a Small World, so let’s count our blessings, huh?” “You guys are ruining this,” Emma grumbles. 

“And,” Mary Margaret adds, “people wait even longer for the Seven Dwarves this is not actually a roller coaster ride. So, comparatively speaking.” Emma groans. “Where is your sense of magic, grown adults? Also, the queue line for Seven Dwarves was actually pretty cool.”

“The line for Big Thunder Mountain is shorter all the time. And a better ride.” “This is true, Swan,” Killian agrees, and Emma may be looking for as much magic as she can get on this trip, but she also wasn’t born yesterday. 

She narrows her eyes, twisting her lips with as much judgment as she can get until Killian’s eyes flicker towards his shoes and the tips of his ears go red. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with how much you enjoy Splash Mountain, would it? Mr. MVP? Or how much closer that is to Pirates of the Caribbean?”

“No comment.” “Yuh huh.” “Em,” Mary Margaret reasons, “we are this close to getting perfect photos on all of those rides.” “You’re a competitive weirdo too!”

Mary Margaret does an admirable job of looking legitimately hurt, and it really does smell very strongly of turkey legs in this part of the park. “Mama, mama, mama,” Ellie chants, yanking on Emma’s necklace until she nearly chokes and there’s a very well-placed shoe in her side suddenly. “Can’t we go see Rapunzel now?”

“That’s what we’re doing, kid,” Emma says. “We’ll get better pictures with her and Tiana than we will on any other ride, right?”

Ellie nods enthusiastically, and they’d been pretty good about the lack of team-branded so far, but she’s a kid and she wanted to wear Killian’s number that morning, which was honestly just more than Emma was capable of dealing with. So. Whatever. 

It’s cute. 

Magical, even. 

And there isn’t much of a wait at Princess Fairytale Hall, but they still have to stop in some kind of pre-meeting chamber, Ellie talking a mile a minute about Rapunzel and Flynn and do you think she’ll have a frying pan, mama?

Rapunzel does have a frying pan. 

Definitely magical. 

Emma’s mouth drops despite her own proclamations to adult, Ellie running forward as quickly as her legs can carry her. So she can immediately throw herself forward. 

Directly into Rapunzel’s arms. 

“Oh shit,” Emma breathes, but Rapunzel is smiling and doesn’t seem all that surprised and Mary Margaret has her phone out. 

When she and David were very little, Ruth had taken both him and Emma to Disney World, but over the years her memories had grown a little fuzzy and a little distant and she’d never been particularly inclined to come back. She thought this whole trip was a photo-op not more than two weeks ago. 

And yet. 

In that moment, in the middle of goddamn Princess Fairytale Hall, with her daughter still hugging Rapunzel and David trying to get Leo to walk forward, Emma has to blink more than once to stop herself from crying over the memories she’s certain will plaster themselves on every corner of her brain from here on out. 

Except she’ll eventually think of a better way to describe that. 

“I think I may have a new favorite ride,” Killian mutters, hand on Emma’s hip and his lips half an inch from her ear and it’s all she can do to nod. 

And sniffle. 

“What was that about magic?” he adds. 

She swats at his chest, but he catches her around the wrist because he’s really a very good third baseman and has much better hand-eye coordination than Emma could ever hope to achieve. “I love you a lot, you know that?” 

“Yeah,” Emma nods. “And I want really good pictures of this.”

Rapunzel lets Ellie hold the frying pan. 

They fine-tune the Splash Mountain photo two days later. 

“Get ready,” David yells from his spot in the front row, and Emma sits up a little straighter out of instinct. 

The doors open and the vultures at the top of the hill make some kind of vulture-type sound, Killian whispering instructions in Ellie’s ear. 

Seriously, Emma’s smile is going to get stuck on her face. 

It’s not the worst thing in the world. 

“No.” “Come on!” “Absolutely not, Swan.” Emma pouts, but Killian doesn’t do much more than shake his head brusquely, the hint of something close to a smirk tugging at the ends of his mouth. “Nope,” he says, popping his lips on the word for emphasis. “Not until you stop reeking of something that would freeze a vampire in his and or her tracks.” “Gender inclusive, huh?” “Something like that.” “You really aren’t going to make out with me?” “No,” Killian says again even as the smirk wins out. “You ate nothing but garlic naan and dipped it in that one sauce that had legitimate cloves of garlic in it.” “It was good!” “I’m not suggesting otherwise. I’m just telling you that you—” “—Reek?” Emma suggests. She grabs another slice of naan, and Mary Margaret and David had taken both Ellie and Leo to see the animals from the windows on the other side of the restaurant. They’ve been here four times already. Mostly because Emma is somewhere in the realm of obsessed with this naan appetizer. 

Plus, Ellie and Leo both love Animal Kingdom. 

Ellie’s a big fan of giraffes, only she can’t quite figure out the word yet and that’s only kind of painfully adorable. And Leo’s eyes go wide as saucers every time they see some kind of new animal, hands flat on the glass a few hours earlier when they’d wandered around what Killian’s phone told them was actually called Gorilla Falls. 

“That’s rude, you know,” Emma says. “No, rude would be telling you that you aren’t very good at the ring toss part of Toy Story Mania.” “Tower of Terror is way more fun.”

“We’ll go on Tower of Terror later.” “Yeah?” “Yeah,” Killian confirms, sliding a package of gum he definitely didn’t buy at Disney World across the table. They don’t sell gum at Disney World. 

Emma turns at just the right moment on Tower of Terror. 

So her World Series-winning, MVP, definitely the best third baseman in the league husband can kiss her when the camera goes off. 

It makes David groan. 

Loudly. 

“I think we’re winning,” Emma murmurs, already saving the picture to her phone. 

Killian nods, still close enough that his nose brushes her cheek. “Absolutely. And you don’t reek of garlic anymore. Now, we just have to get you better at Toy Story.”

She finishes last in their car. 

Every time they ride that night. 

They ride four times. 

And the competition continues — as it’s apt to do, really, because of who they are as people, some fundamental something that also apparently requires them to play miniature golf. 

“This is pretty on point for offseason athletes, Em,” David reasons, and it’s not a lightsaber, but he’s got his club propped on his shoulder again. “Just think, it could be real golf. Now you get to battle for supremacy too.” “Do you hear yourself? Honestly? On this course that has hippos wearing ballet shoes?”

“That’s just a Fantasia thing,” Mary Margaret says. “At least there isn’t that Hell monster. That’d be a lot for me to deal with.” “I’m sorry what?” Killian asks. He’s crouched between Ellie and Leo, trying to show them how to swing their clubs and they’re really going to have to lock down on that six-stroke maximum. 

The guy at the cash register had recognized them. 

That’s three photos and one autograph for the entire trip so far. 

It’s not bad, really. 

“You know,” Mary Margaret continues, clicking her tongue when Leo’s backswing threatens to take out several bits of landscaping, “at the end of Fantasia. It’s like the devil or something.” “You’re making that up.” “I’m not! It was terrifying. Honestly, I used to hide behind my couch until the song was over and all the people started singing Ave Maria.” “You’re making this up,” Emma accuses. 

“I’m not! Look it up. Honestly screw Walt Disney for that part of Fantasia.” “I think you’re the only person in the world who has opinions on Fantasia.” “Look it up!” Emma sighs, but does as instructed, swiping away from notifications telling her she’s got even more pictures available on her MyDisneyExperience app. They really have gotten very good at trying to one-up each other on photos. 

Another competition. 

Seriously, they’re all so messed up. 

“Oh, wow,” Emma mutters, flinching slightly when she sees what can only be described as the devil or something. It’s got horns. “That is terrifying. Why is this in a children’s movie?” “Would we call Fantasia a children’s movie?” David asks. 

“It’s Disney, isn’t it?” “Screw Walt Disney,” Mary Margaret repeats slowly, making sure to emphasize every syllable. Killian almost falls over when he laughs. “Actually, you know what? This is how I’m going to get my revenge. I’m going to absolutely wreck the course record on this mini golf…” “Course?” Killian suggests.

“Yeah, exactly that.”

“Competitive weirdos, the lot of you,” Emma grumbles.

“Do you not want to see Mary Margaret take out her childhood anger on plastic hippos in ballet shoes, Swan?” “Well, when you put it like that.” “Let’s go,” Mary Margaret calls, already standing at the first-hole green. “I’ve got a vendetta to settle!”

And it’s not a course record — probably, they don’t really have the wherewithal or even the athletic pull to demand that kind of knowledge, but Mary Margaret beats them all soundly and makes Killian take her picture with the scorecard. 

And it keeps going. 

They ride more rides. They hum the song from Carousel of Progress without actually meaning to. They take pictures and meet princesses, eat their way around the world in EPCOT and then drink their way around the world, because those are the rules, toasting MVP awards and world championships and that makes David gag a little, but Emma laughs and kisses Killian and he gags again, but then she’s too busy making out with her husband to really be worried about...anything. 

Plus the sparkling wine selection in the Italy pavilion really is other level. 

The whole thing is something close to perfect. 

Emma is starting to wonder if anyone will notice if she just steals those pillows. 

David and Killian keep looking up cheats on Toy Story Mania. 

They trade top scores on Buzz Lightyear, and Emma isn’t entirely surprised that by the time their final night rolls around they’re locked in some New York-Boston battle, complete with mumbled trash talk and pointed glares, each of them demanding just one more time, c’mon, like they’re the children in this family 

The actual children are much more interested in getting back on the Dumbo ride. 

Or eating more churros. 

Honestly, the number of churros they’ve consumed in the last eight days must be some kind of Disney World record. 

And it’s starting to get late, both Ellie and Leo showcasing consistently fluttering eyelashes, heads on shoulders and fingers curling into the back of shirts and Emma hopes she doesn’t cry during the fireworks. 

That would almost be too cliché. 

“Just,” Killian says, grunting softly when Ellie’s chin threatens to dig into his collarbone, “one more time and we can break the tie and then we’ll have—” “—Bragging rights?” Emma asks knowingly.

“I mean…” He can’t shrug when there’s a kid draped over his right shoulder, but an attempt is made all the same and David is wearing a Sox hat. Emma figures that’s what tips the scales, so to speak. 

“I’m already getting in line,” David announces. “So, either Jones gets with the program, or—” “—That is the oldest sentence I have ever heard.” “I found a new spot to shoot at that will practically give me immediate Galactic Hero status.” Emma doesn’t freeze, per se. That would be insane. And the last thing she is is insane. Naturally competitive, maybe, and a little tired, but that good kind of tired that comes from good kind of things, a pleasant ache in the back of her legs and heaviness to her muscles and her eyes flit towards Killian immediately. 

He smirks. 

“It’s the hat, huh?” 

Killian tries to shrug again, Ellie grumbling at the movement. “Sorry, love,” he mumbles, resting his cheek against their daughter’s head so he can level Emma with that very specific stare. Like Game Seven and two outs with a runner in scoring position and probably some joke about hitting against the shift. “You did promise we’d bring him down a peg, Swan.” “I mean I thought losing in the Wild Card game would have done that already.” “I heard that,” David yells, impatience wafting off him while he waits at the end of the line. “And I think you guys are just stalling.”

Mary Margaret lets out what Emma can only hope is a fake gasp, and Leo has definitely fallen asleep already. 

Killian’s smirk gets more pronounced. 

Tommorowland is absolutely Emma’s favorite part of Magic Kingdom. 

“What do you say to a combined effort, Nolan?” Killian asks, not taking her eyes away from Emma. She might swoon a little. She’ll blame the smirk. “We add up the collective scores of your car and whichever team comes out on top has to buy a snack of the winner’s choosing.” “You just want more churros,” David says. 

Emma clicks her tongue. “We're also offering to buy you churros." “Which isn’t going to happen,” Killian says, nudging on Emma’s back until she starts walking again. “But it’s nice that we’re acting like you’ve got a chance.”

David rolls his eyes. “Wow, that’s scathing.” “And not an agreement yet. What’s the matter, ace? You nervous you can’t win when this becomes a team sport?” “Was that an insult?” “Honestly babe,” Emma mumbles, not sure if the animatronic Buzz Lightyear in line has always been this loud or it’s just because they may actually be the only people in line. It’s late. “Also, did you call him ace?” “That makes sense,” Killian objects. “Ace of the staff and number-one pitcher and—” “—Insults are not insults, if you have to explain them,” Mary Margaret says, sliding into the next available car and holding her hands up so the cast member can slam it closed. “Also, you guys suck and we’re going to win. We did research.” “David did research,” Emma argues. “You’re just hanging on for the glory.”

“Go Sox, go!” “That’s not even a cheer!” “I love when you get belligerent like this,” Killian grins, nipping at Emma’s lower lip when his mouth finds hers. 

“It’s bad trash talk.” “Mmhm, you’re a very good trash talker, Swan.” “Flattery will get you everywhere.” “Aim for the Z, huh?”

Her muscles aren’t quite as tired anymore — an adrenaline that usually only comes when Killian takes a ridiculously large lead off second, but this is still kind of fun and maybe as magical as everything else and she really likes winning. 

With Killian. 

On, like principle or something. 

“Try to find the strike zone, Nolan,” Killian yells, but they’re already moving and Ellie’s head keeps lolling between his side and Emma’s. She starts slamming her thumb into the button. 

If asked, Emma will never be entirely sure if that’s what does it. Her vaguely over-excited thumb or the sheer determination to win, driving her to start shooting at things before they’ve even really gotten into the first room, but whatever it is proves to be important and some kind of game-changer because— “Shit,” Killian gasps, gritting his teeth as soon as the word is out of his mouth. Ellie looks up at him. “Don’t repeat that.”

She laughs. She’s got no idea what’s going on. 

Neither does Emma, really. 

“What’s your deal?” she asks, thumb still moving quickly enough that she’s briefly worried about dislocating it. “Are you not shooting things right now?” Killian shakes his head slowly before nodding towards the soft red glow of their respective score screens. “Oh shit,” Emma gasps. “Seriously, Ellie, do not say that around Uncle David.”

Emma blinks more than once — like that will get the score to change and not continue climbing. It does the second thing, a number she’s never seen on her side of the car before, already over seven-hundred thousand and they’re not even out of the first room yet. 

“What happened?” she snaps. “I—is it a glitch or something?” Killian clicks his tongue in reproach. “Swan, you’ve got to be more confident in your talent than that.”

“I didn’t do anything!” “I think you hit David’s secret big-money targets.” “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. Worse than vacation-pillows.” “I asked one of the people at the desk, they said we could get pillows online.” Her heart explodes. Like it’s been shot by Buzz Lightyear’s laser. She’s only slightly confident she’ll come up with better analogies at some point. 

And Emma’s score is cresting eight-hundred thousand now. 

“Just keep shooting, love,” Killian says, joy in the words and the overall width of his smile and something, something, magic. Or luck. 

Emma keeps shooting. 

And her laugh seems to soar out of her, ignoring the pain in her right thumb and the dig of Ellie’s shoe in her left thigh when she scrambles onto Killian’s lap, which is definitely breaking the rules, but can I shoot, daddy and Killian is nothing short of a pushover, so. 

Emma keeps shooting. 

With Ellie and Killian and she’s not sure who grabs the joystick when they reach that one tunnel that’s supposed to look like space, but then they’re spinning and there’s more laughter and it’s good, great, everything Emma thought vacation should be. 

Especially after winning the World Series. 

But then animatronic Zurg is yelling at them, the flash of the camera making Emma blink and Killian’s trying to direct Ellie’s hands on the laser gun, but she’s got her own ideas and—

“Swan.” Emma hums, shaking her right hand gently before she realizes that Killian is trying to take a picture of their score screen before it disappears. 

Nine-hundred thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-nine. 

“No way,” Emma laughs. “That’s—” “—Galactic Hero,” Killian finishes, grinning like an idiot. “You, my love, appear to be a Galactic Hero. And probably the savior of the Universe.” “Do those go together?” “Undoubtedly.” “What is this?” David shouts, standing at the end of the moving sidewalk. 

Emma beams. “What was your score, Nolan?” He scowls. 

“Only space ace,” Mary Margaret mutters, and Killian’s laugh threatens to do damage to Emma’s ear drums. “But that was better than me. I only got like two-hundred thousand, which is just—embarrassing, honestly.” “Seriously,” Killian nods, directing them towards the pictures so Ellie can scan her MagicBand. “I think you get a button, Swan.”

David’s eyes bug. “No.” “You going to be ok, over there ace? Space ace?” “Stop it. That’s not—” “—Excuse me,” Killian says, getting the attention of the nearest cast member. “What happens if we’ve got a Galactic Hero in our midst?” To her credit, Jenny the cast member — whose name tag informs them that she’s from Maine — doesn’t look anything but overjoyed by Emma’s recent achievement, gasping like this is a serious thing or they’ve won something equivalent to another World Series, but Killian’s smile suggests just that and there is a pin involved. 

“Congratulations,” Jenny says enthusiastically. Both Ellie and Leo cheer, any hint of exhaustion gone in the pomp of becoming a Galactic Hero. 

“Thanks,” Emma mutters. Her cheeks are very warm all of the sudden. 

Killian makes her put the pin on. 

And she definitely cries during the fireworks, especially when Tinker Bell flies out of the castle — something about memories and moments and beating Boston. Even when Boston is just her brother and his internet research. 

“You’re thinking,” Killian says, a few moments after the fireworks have ended and people have started to make a mad dash for the exit. “You ok?” Emma shakes her head, but her cheeks are still warm and Ellie’s head is on her shoulder. “Swan, c’mon, love it’s—” “—Did I steal your Buzz Lightyear thunder?” “What a sentence.” “I’m serious. I mean I knew we were doing joint stuff because you thought Mary Margaret would bring down the team, but—” “—Well that’s an accusation.” “Tell me I’m wrong,” Emma challenges.

Killian squeezes one eye shut. “The thought had maybe crossed my mind.” “Exactly! You’re—I mean, the inherent competitive nature of athletes is no joke and you and David have been going at it all week.”

“That was fun, though. I wouldn’t have been totally upset if he beat me.”

“Say that again with a straight face.” “Ok,” Killian sighs. “I would have been annoyed if your brother beat me, but I’m not even remotely upset that you did. Team New York has reigned supreme on whatever planet Buzz Lightyear is from.” “Star Command?” “Nah, that’s just where he works.” “I don’t know enough about the mythos of Toy Story,” Emma admits, not able to stop her laugh. Killian kisses her forehead. ‘You’re sure, though? You looked up stuff and I just started shooting things and got the high-score you couldn’t.”

He chuckles, fingers drifting dangerously high up her side. Especially when they’re still surrounded by so many people. 

And that Walt Disney statue. 

“Well, when you trash talk like that,” Killian starts. He has to shift Ellie so he can crowd closer to Emma, the toes of his shoes threatening to rest on the top of hers. “But, no, Swan. I am not upset that you hit a high score I didn’t. I am very proud of your ability to defend the galaxy and my own trash-talking honor. Plus, the deal was a team, right? That’s kind of how it works.” She may be crying. 

Again. 

Peak cliché. 

“I love you,” Emma says. “I’m glad you won a World Series so we got to come to Disney World.” “Yeah, that’s totally why I did it. And I love you too.” And it’s not like she’s not expecting the kiss, but there is a kid between them and that Walt Disney statue, so Emma can’t quite help the gasp she lets out when Killian ducks his head. But then her hands are moving and he makes that one specific noise when her fingers find his hair, tugging him closer, like he’d have any objections. 

Her back noticeably arches. 

At the same time she presses up on her toes. 

A flash goes off somewhere. “Damn,” Emma mumbles, mostly into Killian’s mouth and she’s going to blame David’s hat. He’s a few feet away. Buying churros. 

“Ah, it was only a matter of time,” Killian reasons. His fingers dance up Ellie’s back again, drifting across his number and his name and Emma’s blushing for a whole other reason. “Plus, if that’s the picture they want, I’m only too willing to start making out with you again.” “Yeah? No garlic, huh?” “Eh, post-celebration I’d even be willing to risk the garlic.” “Charmer,” Emma mumbles, but then she’s pushing up again and kissing Killian again and she can’t really think when his tongue sweeps across her lips. Something about a home run or bases-clearing double or Galactic Hero status on the Buzz Lightyear ride in Magic Kingdom. 

“Although,” she adds, “might not be a bad idea to give social media something to work with. I bet they’d appreciate it.” Killian arches an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

They take a family photo in front of the castle. 

With the lights of Main Street around them and Ellie’s shirt obvious. 

And Emma’s pin. 

She laughs when she sees the caption later, head already on pillows she won’t actually have to steal — 

World Series Champ and Galactic Hero. Talk about keeping up with the Jones’es. 

[deprough]

Lifeday

12/25/2020 Dincember prompt: Christmas / Lifeday

My Dincember prompts are part of a serial story I’m telling. This is the twelveth part of the story. This post won’t make sense without reading the others.

Part 1: Snowballs and Saviors Part 2: Dreams and Dangers (nsfw) Part 3: Heat and Harassment Part 4:   Fire and Fatality (depictions of violence and death) Part 5: Wood and Worry Part 6: Searches and Scarves Part 7: Talks and Tricks Part 8: Exposure and Expectations (NSFW) Part 9: Deals and Disappointments (mild NSFW) Part 10: Tastes and Touches (NSFW, completel smut-fest) Part 11: Lifeday Eve 

On time! For once! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. Thank you for reading my stories, liking, and enjoying them. 

Corrie woke up next to Mando again, knowing it was probably the last time or one of the last times. Still blindfolded, she rolled over and looped her arm over his chest. He stirred and she felt him turn his head and nuzzle her hair. “Stay today, please,” she said. “Leave tomorrow.”

“I will,” he said, his voice regretful. “I need to go check on the kid.”

“I know,” she said. “Tell me when I can take this thing off.” 

He slipped away from her and she snuggled under the blankets, listening to him dress. Finally, he said, “Okay.” Corrie pulled off the blindfold and blinked in the soft light of her room. He looked imposing and untouchable, so different than the considerate, patient lover she’d gotten to know. “Should I come back later?”

“Brama will probably bring you back over for breakfast,” Corrie told him. “She’s planning to eat with me today.”

“Then I’ll see you later.” His voice had warmth in it, and it wasn’t love, but Corrie liked it. 

She listened until he was gone, then hopped out of bed. She showered quickly, aware that she had a lot to get done before breakfast. When she’d been a kid, she’d never understood how much work her parents had done to make Lifeday a pleasure for her and her brothers. 

She started the oven and put in the sweet breads, then pulled out the remaining gifts. Most of the kids’ gifts were out on the Lifeday table, set out last night after they’d been to bed. The rest were for Mando and his family, and not just from her and Brama. The entire town had slipped her gifts in secret that she’d hidden under her stairs for today. His pile was larger than her kids, and she couldn’t mind. He’d given her town the best gift of all, and they were trying to repay him. In front of the pile of gifts, she put the bag holding the credits for the Wookie -- not as a gift, but as payment for his services. 

And then he’ll leave. She didn’t want him to, but she wouldn’t be that selfish. She knew his reasons for staying on the move. With that done, she took one last look around the house and made sure she’d prepared everything. The red banners with knitted flowers and snowflakes hung from the mantle and the doors; garlands of evergreens and red ribbons wound up the bannister on the staircase. The gifts were on the gift table, and everything looked to be in order. 

The door opened and Brama came in, followed by Mando and the bassinet. Brama had more gifts, and Mando carried her massive pot of hot chocolate. “Happy Lifeday!” Corrie said loudly, giving her mother, Mando, and the baby a hug. When she finished with the little one, she set him down and said, “Would you like to get Raina and Lonneric up?”

The child looked at the stairs, so Corrie nodded encouragingly. With surprising speed, he went after her two sleepyheads. Laughing, she turned to Mando. “Always move faster then they want something, don’t they?”

“They do.” He glanced at the table and asked, “Do I see my name on one of those?”

“Your name is on a lot of them, but we don’t open until after breakfast.” Corrie saw his helmet pull back but a storm of feet from above signaled the arrival of the children. “That was fast! Alright,” she directed them away from the table firmly, “everyone wash their hands, then take a seat.”

“One gift, please!” Raina clasped her hands in front of her and dropped to her knees. Lonneric joined her a second later, his own pleading, “Just one!” The baby watched them with wide eyes.

“Nope, gifts after we eat.” Connie looked at her mom, who helped her physically herd the two bigger kids, while Mando got his child into the highchair. The kids tore into the sweetbreads, practically inhaling them. Just to build character, Corrie made the kids wait until the adults finished before she turned them loose on their gifts.

“Come here,” she said, drawing Mando and the baby over to their pile. “Here,” she said, handing the little on a bundle as big as himself. He gazed at it, then up to her, and her heart broke a little at the clear confusion.

“Open it.” Mando’s soft voice cut through the sadness. “It’s for you. Here, pull this.” He touched a ribbon. Hesitantly, the child pulled on it and the package fell partially open. He looked up at his father, who nodded encouragingly, and then the little one pulled out the stuffed gurt toy. “That’s a cute toy,” Mando remarked, and Corrie swore his calm voice was thicker with emotion. The baby tried to hand it to him, and he said, “No, that’s yours to play with. Do you want to open another?”

The baby nodded, and Mando sat down next to the table and pulled over another gift. “Oh, this is for me. Should I open it?” The baby’s ears rose and he nodded. “Okay, let’s see what Kend got me. He’s the older deputy, right?”

“Yeah,” Corrie said, feeling tears threaten at how unfair this galaxy had been to the two of them; how it had denied them some of the simplest of pleasures.

Mando pulled the gift open, his son watching from his lap. When he pulled the cloth wrapping back and saw the silvered blaster, he seemed unsure what to say. He picked up the note and read, “‘It’s shiny like you, so I thought it would look better on your hip.’”

Smiling a little, Corrie pulled back to give them privacy as she went to her own gifts. Like Mando, she had gifts from all over town though the ones from her closest loves were her favorites; Lonneric gave her a piece of carved soap, and Raina had punched holes in a piece of felt and “embroidered” a little picca flower for her. Brama had replaced a pot Corrie had been forced to convert into a planter after the handle broke. Koda gave her a whole bundle of carded wool and a promise that he’d card for her all year.

Sitting back in her favorite chair, she watched her children play with their grandmother, while Mando and his child sat in an ever-growing mountain of gifts. She tried not to cry as the little one seemed as lost as he was grateful. Mando seemed to sense it too, and stopped giving him more gifts. The little one finally picked out a wooden zixcat and went to play with Raina and Lonneric. The adults watched; Mando in silence while Brama and Corrie took care of dishes and the next meal. 

After lunch, the kids went outside to play, and Mando caught Corrie by the arm. “Hey, I don’t really think I have room for all of this on the ship.” He waved at the gifts. “Can you and the kids use it?”

His matter-of-fact statement about it finished Corrie’s resolve to not lose it. She tried to say, “Whatever you need to do,” and instead she burst into tears. She heard her mother’s knitting needles stop abruptly. 

“I’m sorry.” Mando put his hands on her arms, clearly upset. She still couldn’t speak, and she helplessly shook her head as her mother joined them, putting an arm around her shoulders. 

“It’s not you, I promise,” Brama said to Mando as she steered her away. “Give us a moment?”

“Of course.” 

Brama pulled her into her bedroom and sat her down on the bed, tugging her close. It was too much like when her mother had held her when Loren had died, and the tears just flowed faster. “It’s okay,” her mother said softly, rubbing her arm. “It’s okay.”

“He didn’t understand Lifeday. The baby. He didn’t have a clue,” Corrie finally managed to choke out and her mother nodded. 

“Thanks to you, he does now,” Brama said gently. It didn’t help, because all Corrie could think was that in fifty long years, no one had ever shown that kid the simple pleasure of Lifeday, or anything like it. Brama didn’t say any more; she just let her daughter cry until the tears were done. 

When Corrie sat up straight and sighed in frustration, her mother said, “I’d say, just tell Mando that he can take what he can, and we’ll figure it out when he’s gone.”

The reminder that he was leaving tomorrow definitely didn’t help Corrie’s mood. “That’s what I was trying to say before my emotions got the better of me. Ugh, have I ruined Lifeday, you think?”

“No.” Her mother smiled. “I think he understands, too.” 

Mando looked up when she came back to the main floor, and Corrie said, “Sorry about that. Whatever you need to do with the gifts. We’ll work it out here.”

“I don’t want to insult anyone in town,” he said quickly.

“No one will be insulted,” Corrie said firmly. And if they are, they’d better keep that to themselves. “We understand you have limited space.”

“And there’s this. This is my gift for you.” He handed her the bag with the credits for the Wookie’s bounty in it. 

“I don’t understand,” Corrie said. “This was our agreed fee.” 

“I brought in the Wookie for you, for free. This is all I can give you, Corrie, in thanks for all that you have done. Your town, your family--” He cupped her cheek with his hand, his fingers tangling in her hair. “You.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, smiling at him.

They spent the afternoon opening the remaining gifts and picking out which ones Mando could take. Her town had opened their hearts and given the best they had to their savior, and he seemed to know that as he carefully made his choices. The rest, Corrie set aside to deal with later, when he was gone. For now, she stacked them in the front closet. She couldn’t bear to look at them right now, and she dreaded explaining this to Raina, who was both perceptive enough to notice, and too young to understand without a lot of explanation from her mother.

She managed to get through dinner and the day without another outburst, thankfully. Her mother and Mando were both gentle with her, and she accepted their care without comment. It had been one of Loren’s gifts to her; teaching her to just relax into being cared for rather than trying to tough it out. Thoughts of her lost husband didn’t help her emotional turmoil, but she didn’t let herself dwell on that. There would be time to mourn tomorrow.

After the kids were asleep, Corrie showered and sat on her bed in her robe, waiting. She ran the scarf that was her customary blindfold through her fingers and listened to the silence. Finally, she heard someone softly open the door, then light steps on the stairs. A quiet tap at her door finally brought a smile to her face, and she let him in.

They didn’t speak, and didn’t need to say anything to each other. Corrie helped Mando out of his armor, and he blindfolded her, and then they crashed into one another. It wasn’t violent or harsh, but the patience of before had faded in knowledge that this was their last night together. Corrie knew she’d likely have a long wait before she could find another partner for this, and she suspected that Mando was as picky as she was.

Exhaustion claimed her in the small hours of the morning, but when he woke her up for one more coupling, she responded eagerly. By the time the sun’s rays pierced the horizon, Corrie was tired, sore, and physically sated. Emotionally, she was already missing the stranger who hadn’t left yet.

They lay quietly together for a long moment. She felt the second he summoned his willpower; sensed the shift in his body that signaled the coming departure. “I need to leave,” he said softly. 

“I know,” she said. He cupped her face and gave her one last, sweet kiss, then slipped out of bed. She let him go without complaint, listening to him dress. She could have protested, and a small part of her that had enjoyed having a bed companion again wanted to speak out. He wasn’t the staying kind, and she wasn’t the leaving kind, and they’d both known this. 

She wasn’t in love, she was lonely. Or perhaps just horny.

“You can take it off,” he said softly. 

She did, blinking at him in the dim bedroom. Sitting up, she asked, “Do you want us to see you off?”

“No.” He didn’t say it’d be easier, but they both heard it. 

“Okay,” she said, yawning. “I’m going to go back to sleep.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice warm. “It was good to celebrate Lifeday again.”

“It was the least we could do after all you’ve given us.” Corrie watched him silently shrug off the comment. “You’re welcome to come back and visit anytime.”

“I will,” he said. “When it’s safe.” Corrie couldn’t tell if he was lying or not, but she didn’t call him on it or probe. He would come back or he wouldn’t. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Mando.” Then he was gone from her life as rapidly as he had entered it. She stayed in bed until she heard the Crest lift off, then she got up, showered and started her day. She’d miss him, but life would go on after he’d helped them set things right. Her people would survive because of him, and that was enough.

[4point7]

CRASH: A Deadpool Fiction

Written in response to @firefly-in-darkness​ ‘s Winter Writing Challenge.

Prompt: Unexpected visitor on Christmas Eve

Characters: Deadpool x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (Smut), Guns, Elton John, Unicorn, Corn Hole, Use of the word vociferated, guarenteed panty wetter.

Word Count: 2,462

You said your good nights and Merry Christmasses to your family in the corridor. The giddiness and glee of Christmas has never left you. You couldn't help but feel excited knowing that in just a few hours you would all be together again celebrating your favourite day of the year in the wonderful city of Manhattan. You closed the hotel door behind you, took a couple of steps, raised your arms and flung yourself on to the luxury duvet. The bedding engulfed you in it's thick, soft grasp. You let out a long, satisfied sigh as you gazed at the ceiling. The Christmas lights of the world outside were cascading through the window and illuminating the ceiling with splashes of beautiful colours. You could here the occasional sounds of passers by singing Christmas songs as they enjoyed the last hours of festivities on the eve of the big day. The butterflies in your stomach took flight as you reveled in the joy of the occasion and the anticipation of the day ahead.

"Hey Siri, play Christmas Hits". With an obedient acknowledgment your phone kicked into action and Step Into Christmas by Elton John started to project out of it's speakers. You leaped to your feet and started to dance around the room as you got undressed. You threw your clothes wherever you pleased as you twirled around the room. First your Santa hat is flung on to the bed post, your shoes are kicked off in to the corner of the room, your blouse thrown on to the chair, jeans over the TV, bra draped on the lampshade and finally your red Christmas panties landed in the trash can under the vanity table. As your de-robing came to an end, so too did the song and you launched yourself on to the bed once more. The soft fabric of the sheets felt delightful against your bare skin. It gave you that same warm, cosy feeling like sitting by an open fire with a hot drink on a thundery night in winter. You ran your fingers along the smooth folds of the bedding and up to the pillow. You knew you shouldn't, not here, not with a pillow that is not your own but you couldn't help yourself. It's Christmas Eve after all, you deserve to treat yourself. The bedding is so delicate you just know it will feel good. You climbed to your knees, grabbed the pillow, placed it between your thighs, lowered yourself down on to it and started to gently grind yourself back and forth. You were right, maybe it was the silky texture against you or maybe it was knowing that you shouldn't be doing it but it felt fantastic and you could feel yourself getting slick with each movement of your hips. You arch your back and look up at the dancing lights as you press down onto the pillow. Then suddenly, from outside, there arose such a clatter. The lights on the ceiling vanished for a second as something obscured them, then... *CRASH* A red figure came hurtling through your window. You let out a shrill scream and scrambled to gather as much of the duvet as possible to cover your innocence. "Cover her innocence. HA. The girl was playing giddy up pony butt naked with a hotel pillow. Any innocence she had has been left the other side of that hotel door!" The man mumbled seemingly to no one in particular as he rose to his feet. You could do nothing but stare in shock, transfixed in terror. Snowflakes and cold air were spilling in through the now shattered window. You watched as the virgin white snow stained red as it blended with the blood left on the floor. You followed the red stream with your eyes to the feet of the man now stood in the middle of your room and guided your eyes up his body. He was dressed all in red and black. You let out a frightened gasp as you saw that he was strapped with a whole host of weapons. You scuttled backwards and pressed your back hard against the wall as if to get as far away as possible. You notice now that his face is covered by a mask with two ghostly white eyes staring straight in your direction. You let out another scream. As if caught off guard he raises his hands to his mouth and let's out a scream of his own. "Don't do that, you scared me", he says in a tone riddled with sarcasm. "I'm probably not the man in a red suit you were expecting tonight! I'm a whole lot less jolly and a heap more Big Dick Energy. Let me introduce myself, I am Deadpool. You can call me Dead, Mr. Pool, D. Piddy, Duff Paddy or any other cool sounding shit you can come up with. And despite my strapping physique and assortment of highly deadly weaponry, I mean no harm to you. If anything, I should be scared of you, looks like you're packing a couple of bazookas there!" You pull the covers higher up and pull them close around your neckline. Then you just sit there, trembling through both fear and the cold as you gape at him. He wasn't lying about his physique. You notice the outline of his muscles under his skin tight suit. "I am incredibly sorry about the window thing, I was just having a little altercation with a friend and next thing you know, I have been thrown through a pane of glass. Standard Christmas Eve, right?" He let out a laugh and started to walk towards the window. "You know what? I will be back to apologise properly in a minute, I just need to have a quick word with my friend". He looked up to the ceiling and began to talk to it, "Don't you dare stop reading. I totally need to bang this hottie in a few paragraphs!" And with that he jumped out into the cold. You startle as you hear a gun shot from the street outside, a few moments pass and he reappears at the window again. You couldn't see his mouth but you could tell he was smiling. "Conversation over". He climbed back inside, the shards of glass cracking underfoot as he approached the side of the bed. "Now for my apology. Hey Siri, play Bump n' Grind by R. Kelly". The song starts to stream from somewhere on his person. *My mind's telling me no... but my body... my bodies telling me yeeeees* Deadpool speaks over the music, "You know what? In hindsight, this song is a little creepy and it's certainly not festive enough. Let's try something different. Hey Siri, play All I Want For Christmas Is You". The track skips. "Much better". You didn't know what it was. If it was his muscle clad frame, his so called big dick energy or just the plot having to be pushed forward regardless of narrative to a point at which the two of you are fucking, but you felt strangely attracted to him all of a sudden. You loosened your grip on the sheets and let them drop to your waist revealing your nip nips. Deadpool looked up to the ceiling again "Sweet Christmas, if you look half as good IRL as you are making yourself out to be here, I need to ride that horse to happy town. P.S. sorry Luke Cage, I didn't mean to steal your catchphrase." He looks back down at you. Your nipples were as hard as senior year Algebra because of the now freezing cold room but you didn't care. You whipped the cover completely off of your body revealing your sloppy south mouth. It was as wet a whales blow hole down there! "Well, this escalated quickly. Thank you writer!" He unbuckled his belt and his assortment of guns clattered to the floor. "Well, if we are releasing our weapons, let me introduce you to...", he reached in to his pants and lopped out his ginormous sex pistol. "... my weapon of ass destruction!" he exclaims. "Sorry mate, I ain't feeling in to butt stuff tonight. I haven't prepared the rocky road to be ventured by a wayward traveler tonight", you reply. "... My weapon of fanny destruction", he corrects himself. "It just doesn't have the same ring to it. Oh well," he shrugs. He steps forward and you see his pleasure sausage in all it's glory. It. Is. Huge. It is also knobbly as fuck which is a little grotesque but you think to yourself, "Fuck it, I bet that bobbly boy bone will feel bonza rearranging my guts." You leap in to action, open your mouth like hungry trout and gobble up his shaft. You take it right the way down inside you. It feels so deep that the only explanation is that his bellend must be half way around your large intestine by now. He bounced his hips up and down and your whole body is thrown up and down with the motion, slapping haphazardly against the bed. You are like a skewered pig! Your minge juice is splattering all over the walls as you flop about. He reaches over and spanks your ass hard. If you like it, he keeps doing it. If you don't, he stops. Whatever you want really. You probably like it. You try to say speak but you can't, what with being all full with the purple helmeted warrior of love. Your speech just comes out like this, "gch gyt cfrrrrch zkkkr glk pffft". "What was that?" he says as he pulls his manhood from inside you leaving you feeling empty like a gutted fish! "I said fuck me, Duff Paddy!" You plead. "I take it back, don't call me Duff Paddy that totes ain't cool". "Fine, fuck me like I'm on the naughty list and you're Santa teaching me a lesson". He slaps your face so hard that you spin 180 degrees on the bed, your slime well now facing him, ready to give him the toothless blowjob of his life! He reaches over to the bed post, grabs your Santa hat that landed their earlier and places it on his head. Then rams his candy cane cock right up inside you and starts talking in a deep voice, "Listen here Y/N, I hear that you are on the naughty list". "I am Santa, I have been a naughty girl. You should teach me a lesson". His deep voice booms out again as his bumpy womb broom penetrates your entire body. "The hypotenuse is the longest side of a right angle triangle", he bellows. "It is located on the opposite side to the right angle itself". This is not the lesson that you had in mind but fuck it, his winky felt pretty alright inside you so let's just crack on with it. You do loads of moans and stuff as the knowledgeable St. Nick rattles off math facts. Your pink penis palace is a slobbery mess like Fang from the Harry Potter franchise. The squelch of your fanny is so intense that with each thrust it sounds like an army of elves are juicing oranges in perfect harmony. With each energised pound it feels like a coil is tightening in your stomach drawing you closer and closer to climax as the fuckery intensifies. He stops and pulls out for a second before shoving his entire hand up your cooch. He starts groping about like and old man searching the bedside cabinet for his dentures in the dark. He grabs hold of what he has been searching for and pulls his hand out. "What in the name Santa's workshop is this tightening coil doing inside your foof?" He throws the coil out of the broken window and sticks his mangled meat all up inside you again. You cum anyway, turns out the coil had fuck all to do with it. And boy is it a big old cum. You scream really loud. Like "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! YEEEEEEEEEEEESSSS. I'M A FUCKING UNICORN ON A RAINBOW ROCKET." Fuck knows why you shouted that last bit but you did. Your entire body shakes like a bowl full of jelly. You're shaking so hard that you vibrate off the bed and hit the floor where you continue to pulsate. This is how your vibrator must feel when it falls off the bed post orgasm. Deadpool rushes over, picks you up from the floor and places you on your knees in front of him before sitting on the side of the bed, his tally wacker throbbing in your face. "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas, Y/N. Make Santa's dream cum true and suck that slush right out my schlong". You don't need to be told twice. You gobble, gobble, gobble like a Christmas Turkey. You salivate on that clam hammer like a toothless grandma eating a humbug. "OH BABY JESUS, STICK A FINGER IN CORN HOLE", he shouts. Not usually your thing but we are nearing the end of the story now and you really want to taste that eggnog. As his bauble-esque nuts clap against your chin you slip your finger in. It didn't take long once your finger tickled his taint and entered his puckered poop chute (FYI no actual poop present, clean as a whistle. No icky stuff going on here) for Deadpool Santa to start emptying his sack and unloading his Christmas presents deep inside your throat hole. His cum started to explode from your mouth like when you overfill a mince pie with whipped cream. "HO, HO, HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he vociferated as he cummed. You swallowed it all up (because you were raised right) and got to your feet as Deadpool put his cock back in his pants. "Well that was fun," he said. "Hell yeah it was," you replied with a giggle. You gave each other a high five and he made his way back to the broken window. Laying a finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod out the window he rose. You watched as he disappeared into the night and heard him bellow in to the sky, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night". The End. Have yourself a merry little Christmas. ... "Psst, writer! It's Deadpool. Just so you know, I found your jumping between present and past tenses wildly inconsistent and frankly lazy writing. If I wasn't getting my willy wet in this one I would have left this story a long time ago. I can't be associated with this kind of shabby story telling. I probably would have hung around to watch Y/N getting off on the pillow though. That shit was hot!"