but seriously i thought most people knew it's milk that helps

Mission Bad Boy | 04

Plot: What if you could win 100,000 Won by giving someone a makeover? But here’s the catch – you have 6 months to turn a nerdy, anti-social male into the school’s biggest heartthrob.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Angst, Highschool au!

Notes: I said fuck it and decided to use my hotspot. Hopefully by the time the internet comes back I will have the fifth part ready. CRED TO THE ACTUAL OWNER OF THE GIF. 4 k Words

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The day just seemed too surreal. It was drastically different from the last two years of high school, especially for your desk mate.

Kim Namjoon was finally getting noticed, this time, in the best way possible.

People turned their heads to look at him when he walked down the halls, girls became absolutely flustered when they made eye contact with him. He didn’t even need to say anything, and people were looking at him as if they had seen god.

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Title: Good Morning
Summary: Based on the Bughead deleted scene of ep 13- Jughead has moved in to the Cooper’s house, and on that winter, Sunday morning; both he and Betty get together for breakfast and old cartoons.
A/N: I just wanna thank RAS and the other show producers that actually allowed us to see such an adorable scene! It kept me up at night writing this little fic, and I think I’ve developed diabetes due to so much cuteness! I hope you enjoy my fluff! And please, tell me your opinion!
Read on ao3

Mornings at the Cooper household changed considerably after the Jubilee evening. Even if the windows were still decorated with the winter snow, and even if the smell of lavender was still the one thing that made her entire body relax after a deep, long yawn; it was easy to tell that the entire world around Betty had changed.

Now, the air seemed lighter. The house felt warmer, the laughter was more present, and whenever her sleepy eyes looked around, instead of finding an empty, perfect room, she would find her sister, still completely asleep in her own bed. Once again, the Cooper girls were sharing a room, and even if that had been the cause of many fights in the past, neither of the sisters could be any happier to be recreating such beautiful and innocent times.

Polly, even while carrying two babies in her belly, was still the same lazy girl she used to be when they were younger. And that made her little sister quite happy.

Their family was back together, the truth had finally been told, and apart from the future, ginger twins running around the soft carpet, they had a new, charming, raven haired and not-blood-related member in their family. Thanks to Alice’s convincing argument— if anyone could actually call that an argument— the social service allowed the boy to move in with the Coopers, and now, after he finally settled in, Betty’s got to see his blue, grayish eyes every morning, afternoon and night.

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Request- do you mind doing another tom holland imagine? where y/n and tom are dating, harrison introduced y/n and tom together and y/n and harrison has been friends for ever. Tom gets a little jealous over y/n and harrison’s closeness

AN- I am so sorry this took so long, but enjoy and carry on sending in requests


Tom had never been jealous of possessive in your relationship before. In fact he had always been rather laid back, never bothering whenever a guy or girl looked for a moment too long. Just because he knew you were the one in his arms at the end of the day, not them, or anybody else.

But recently Tom had been jealous, around one of the weirdest people. Harrison.

Harrison had been your friend ever since primary school, when a boy had stolen the colouring pencil, so Harrison tripped him up and got your pencil back. Sure he got told off, but at the age of five that was like taking a bullet for someone.

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Pairing: Jon Snow x Reader

Fic Request: Pls do some Jon Snow fluff

Summary: You felt like Jon never noticed you. You were always too shy to express your feelings until you see Jon talking to a Night’s Watch brother. Now, you have to confess your feelings before its too late.

Words: 1366

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12680496

There are many truths in this world. One, snowy mornings inside castles are romantic and dreamlike. Two, freshly made steamed milk with chocolate inside is a perfect pairing with snowy mornings inside castles. Three, bastards swinging swords around at other men was a perfect thing to watch while drinking hot chocolate on a snowy morning inside a castle.

Your wide eyes almost couldn’t blink at the sight of him. You heard the clanging and clinking of metal against each other. Yes, most of the girls at the window gawked at Robb Stark. He was nice. He was tall. He had decent hair.

He wasn’t Jon.

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almond milk

word count: 1.9k

summary: Y/N is a barista at a bubble tea shop and Jeongguk is…well, Y/N doesn’t really know. (female!barista Y/N x single dad!guk)

She tapped her fingers impatiently against the machine. The ticket dispenser remained inactive, meaning the she was inactive. The source of this block was at the front of the shop; a group of four girls stood, mouths agape and chattering amongst themselves of what they want and what have you had before? and i don’t know if i want a tea or a smoothie! what should i do?!

Y/N was an impatient person. Dealing with snotty teenagers and long hours and incompetent managers wore her down. It was something that she wished she could change - one of her many flaws she pointed out constantly.

“Our shit isn’t even that good,” she told herself for the thirteenth time that afternoon. Her coworkers could feel her agitation roll off her in waves, and they decidedly left her alone. She smirked and thought “smart kids.” A look to the front showed that the four girls were now all leaning on the counter, seemingly incapable of reading a menu.

She could feel her eyes roll as she walked to the back and checked her phone.

“Four more hours,” she groaned to herself, “and you can go back home and shower.”

She took a deep breath, composed herself, and headed back to the machine, seeing that the long ticket finally printed. Two teas and two smoothies - tedious but not impossible.

“Hey, Little One,” Y/N called over her shoulder. One of her younger co workers, nicknamed Little One, looked up. “One Berry-Blast, regular, and one Enthused Pineapple, large - thank you!” She threw a smile over her shoulder to Little One, who nodded and got to work.

Y/N’s smile faded as she got to work on the teas.

If she had to describe her job and life, it would be that. Tedious, but not impossible. She was off school for the summer, deciding to go full time at work and picking up more shifts than she even could comprehend. Dealing with the more elites of the city, she was used to snide comments and rude looks from patrons. At first, she could handle it. It made her want to prove them wrong. But soon enough, it wore her down. Long hours stretched to long nights and she just wanted to stand under the shower and let out a scream.

Not to mention other personal matters, but she didn’t want to think about that now. She could feel the weight of the four girls on her and their sly comments of does she actually think that scrunchie looks cute? and girl, seriously, look at her highlighter.

She was about to snap her head up and say something that would potentially get her out of a job, but another ticket popped up.

Strawberry Valentine: sub almond milk, no yogurt. Make your own smoothies were an unspoken hatred of the smoothie world. Since daily prep was part of the job, each employee preps a number of smoothies so it would be easier to make when the shop actually opened. When people wanted things subbed in or out, it halted the quickness of the shop, bringing it to a standstill. It also means one less person to help out.

She slammed the peach syrup down, earning glares from the gossiping girls that she quelled with a sidelong look. She took a deep breath, trying to fight down the tears that were coming up. Things were quickly coming to a head and she couldn’t take anymore.

Y/N would like to think she was strong: she dealt with friends coming and going, rude customers, disappointing parents and a unfulfilling job. She liked to think she was pretty - on good days - but she felt average. Below, average, right now. Her makeup must be laughable and why did she think that she could even be pre-

“Are you okay, lady?” a quiet voice asked. Even amongst the murmur of the loud and crowded shop, she could hear him. She looked up and saw the most beautiful hazel eyes gazing into her own quizzically. He must have been standing on the counter and watching her make drinks when she slammed her syrup down. He must have been no older than four, watching the world and her with wide eyes.

She could feel her face grow hot, and then she felt silly. “Yes,” she laughed. “Thank you for checking up on me.” She offered the little boy a smile and watched as he grew bashful and turned to - what she at first presumed to be - his older brother.

He looked familiar - she was sure he had been to the shop before; maybe when it first opened? She didn’t have time to muse as another ticket popped up - an iced tea which would be easy to knock out. Focusing on finishing the large group of girls’ orders, she finally got to that Strawberry-Valentine that had printed awhile ago. She could see over the bar the wide hazel eyes. When hazel met hers, he shied back to his brother and whispered something to him.

Y/N leaned forward a bit and finally got a chance to look at the brother - he was young. Young in the sense of early twenties. Black ballcap, black shirt and black jeans, Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. He was cute and she could feel that she was staring too much at him, so she directed her head back to the little one.

“Did you order the Strawberry-Valentine?” She intended it for the little one, but the elder spoke up.

“Yeah, we did, Jae is just shy,” he said as he picked up the little one. He had his hand covering his face, and when he met Y/N’s soft gaze he buried his face into his brother’s shoulder.

They both laughed. “I was the same when I was younger,” she started. “Even now I’m still like that.” Grabbing a blender and bending down, she retrieved the almond milk requested on the ticket.

“Really?” The brother asked as he hoisted the little one into his arms. “You seem to be quite liked around the shop.”

As her ears grew hot her face was ablaze - she was actually being complimented by some hot guy? Alarm bells rang in her ears that he was probably talking her up so he could get more than he paid for, but one look at the little boy - Jae - did that idea disappear. The brother seemed like a nice enough guy, so Y/N gave her most sincere smile and, abashedly, said a quiet “thank you.”

Y/N chanced a look at the older boy and gather her thoughts a bit. Chestnut hair tucked under the black ballcap, earrings littered his ears. He had a simple silver necklace around his neck, and his black shirt was tucked into his black pants. He hadn’t any bags from shopping, just a tiny, colorful backpack that was obviously for his kid brother. He was looking at the little boy with so much adoration and love that Y/N felt like she was intruding on something. He said something to the little boy and grabbed him from behind, tickling him and soon engulfed him into a hug.

Only as he was smiling and looked up to Y/N did she realize that she yet again was staring. Her eyes widened and she soon took off. She was thankful that she could escape to the back, grabbing handfuls of strawberries and smiling to herself silly. She giggled to herself - what was she, twelve? - and stuck her face further into the freezer. She needed her face to go back to its normal complexion and fast!

She thought of what she said and suddenly her heart rate spiked - so he really must come often then if he knew how she usually interacted with her customers. Y/N wasn’t usually the mega bitch she was being today, and it made her smile even more that He noticed. Her grin came back strong and her cheeks were seriously burning.

“S’cute!!” she said to herself. She still had a wide smile on her face as she entered the front of the shop again, rushing past her coworkers and throwing crude remarks over her shoulder. How one - two, she corrected herself - people were able to make her day, she had no idea. She watched as her concoction blended from frozen strawberries and mushy bananas to something worth drinking. She poured out the large the big brother paid for, sealing it up. She saw that she had extra, so she poured it into a smaller cup and looked at the little boy.

Jae looked over the bar and saw the smoothies and became excited, turning to his brother.

“Daddy, they’re ready!”

Y/N’s head shot up and her eyes went straight to the young man. “He’s a father?” she internally mused. “He’s so young…”

He had to have been the same age as Y/N - early twenties. She involuntarily looked for a ring on his left hand, but there were none. A tattoo on his upper bicep, but that was it. No tell-tale signs of being in a relationship.

Y/N still smiled and handed the bigger cup to Dad, her temporary nickname, and turned to Jae.

“I have some popping bubbles, if you want any?”

Little hands came to rest on the divider between customer and worker, looking down at all the colorful treats.

“Oh Jae, did you hear the nice lady? You can get popping bubbles!” he held Jae from behind and pointed to the blackboard hanging on the wall. Listed there were the flavors of popping bubbles that Dad read off to Jae, and he looked over to Y/N and quipped his lips. She felt her ears burn from the gesture and looked at her hands until he was done and Jae happily chirped “green apple!”

She smiled to herself and gave him a big scoop, sealing it up and handing it to the little boy. Dad grabbed it for him, slinging his son’s backpack over his shoulder as he set Jae down.

“Thank you for doing that,” he said, smiling and taking a sip of the smoothie. “This is great, by the way - best I have had here.” He grinned at her and she found herself smiling in spite of herself.

“Get a grip on yourself Y/N!” her conscious screamed at her, but she didn’t mind. He obviously came here frequently.

He gave her one last smile before grabbing ahold of Jae’s hand and walking away. Only when she saw them disappear behind a brick wall was reality crashed back into her. Lines wrapped around the shop and tickets were littering the counter, scattered and out of order.

She happened a glance at the clock, willing it forward at least thirty minutes.

Ten minutes passed. She groaned and grabbed a ticket, feeling her agitation growing again. Hazel eyes reminded her, and she felt herself smile.

“Today will be good,” she mumbled to herself. Until her coworker burnt her hand on hot tea. And a customer complained of the product tasting “off.”

She still smiled, only a bitter one and gripped the counter and laughed.

a/n - i get most of my inspiration from people watching at work and interacting with customers and my regulars. this is dedicated to the sweet father and son who always stops by every weekend and always makes my day so much better and they don’t know it. i thought kook would be a good fit because this father is young and he plays around with his little boy and is so sweet and quiet i could just see it being kook so! i hope you liked it and can relate a bit to Y/N - she’s a mix of myself and my friends.

More than one secret

🌸 PART TWO (2) | (1)

Originally posted by kkngie

Characters: Reader X Changkyun, some other members along the way

Genre: fluff and a lil angst

Length: 1498 words

Warning(s): just some swearing

Summary: When you thought life couldn’t get any more dull, an old acquaintance makes a sudden appearance and changes the course of it.

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Siren Song - 1

A/N: So I’m intending this to be a multiple chapter story. It’s geared towards Slytherin readers, cause <3. Here is part one.


     At the Gryffindor table, gossip was deftly being spread by the Weasley twins amid mouthfuls of smoked meat and some kind of beige, lumpy pudding.

     “Did you see her?” Fred asked nonchalantly after swallowing a bite of food. George nodded.

     “See who?” Ron curiously eyed his older brothers who were sitting diagonal from him.

     Now paying attention to the conversation, Harry looked up from his meal, his gaze moving left to Ron and then to the twins. “Who are you talking about?” He finished his sentence with a swig of pumpkin juice.

     Hermione, sitting directly across from Harry and Ron, tilted her head to the side and patiently waited for an explanation from the older boys.

     George leaned closer towards the group and paused. Attempting to create an air of mystery and milking his flair for the dramatic, he whispered in a hushed tone, “The new girl.”

     “What new girl?” Ron was growing impatient and wanted answers.

     Mimicking his twin, Fred also leaned forward and paused. “The new girl,” he replied coyly. Ron looked at his brothers with incredulity. Before Ron could open his mouth to make a smartass remark, Fred continued, “I saw her with McGonagall a few minutes ago in the hall. I was running extra late to dinner and she was standing with her.”

     “So who is she and why is she here?” the youngest brother wasn’t satisfied with the vague responses the twins were giving.

     “I’m guessing she’s a new student who has come here to learn magic, Ronald.” Hermione pointed out the obvious as a small grin escaped from her lips.

     Ron shot Hermione a glare as Harry and the twins laughed at the redhead’s expense.

     “In all seriousness though,” Fred continued, “she’s hot. Like really good-looking. I think she’s American too from what I could hear from her accent.”

     “Hmmm,” Hermione was thinking aloud. “I wonder if this is her first experience in a school for magic. Maybe she’s a late blooming muggle just realizing her talents. That would be so exciting to be in that position again, don’t you think? Just finding out about the existence and reality of magic for the first time is mind blowing on its own! Wouldn’t you agree, Harry?”

     George answered instead and snickered, “Didn’t you hear Fred say she’s hot? Super hot? I mean really attractive.”

     Hermione ignored the twins and spoke more directly to Ron and Harry. “If she’s American, she could also be a transfer student from Ilvermorny. That would be interesting too. I would love to speak to some one who studied there… Think of all the interesting things they might do in American schools. I would love to pick her brain!”

     “If she’s not a Slytherin,” Ron quipped. That response elicited smirks from the Gryffindors within earshot.

     Abruptly a door creaked, the Great Hall began to grow quiet, conversation grew hushed, and people began to nudge their friends as they pointed to the unfamiliar new girl, confidently walking in with Professor McGonagall.

     While she might have looked calm on the surface, inside, Y/N’s heartbeat raced to a dizzying pace and a thousand separate thoughts swirled through her mind, each one battling for her focus.  Walking across the hard stone floor and listening to the click clack of her shoes echo her every footstep, the thought that won her attention as hundreds of curious eyes —some friendly and some not so much— stared at her was this: don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fall. She repeated this mantra in her head as she made her way to the mahogany stool that appeared directly in the front of the four house tables. As she sat down, Y/N exhaled a small sigh of relief at having accomplished this first task.

     Shifting in her seat, Y/N became more aware of all the eyes on her — student body and faculty alike.  While she wasn’t one to shy away from attention, hundreds of eyes staring at you and judging can be unnerving.

     Whispers died down as Dumbledore rose to speak, commanding attention from his audience. Y/N was relieved for a brief moment as she felt eyes and thoughts move to the elderly Headmaster; this gave her a moment to take in her surroundings and grown more comfortable in this new environment.

     Raising his hand to signal for silence from his students, Dumbledore began, “On this most peculiar Thursday night, I’d like to address a most interesting development.”

     “Developed is right, aye?” Seamus Finnegan stared at the soft curves of the new girl’s body, licked his lips, and elbowed a grinning Dean Thomas at the Gryffindor table. Harry, overhearing the comment, couldn’t help but be painfully aware of how pretty she actually was. She wore a small smile that suggested she knew the punchline of a joke you wanted to hear. Or she knew a secret that she promised she would tell you when the time was right. Whatever it was, Harry was bewitched by it and desperately wanted to know more about this mysterious girl.

     Sitting at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy was feeling very much the same way his rival was. He drank in the h/c girl’s every move; from her first step into the Great Hall to watching her scan the crowd in front of her, Draco felt compelled to know her. He wanted her to be in his house. He wanted her. And Draco Malfoy always got what he wanted. Staring intently, he caught her gaze and locked eyes for a brief momemnt as Dumbledore continued to speak.

     “As you all have noticed, we have a new student joining us this evening. A transfer student from the American wizarding school Ilvermorny, this is Y/N L/N.” He gestured to the smiling girl in the mahogany chair; she held up her right hand and made a small waving motion to her peers. “She attended Ilvermorny several years, but I know we will all do our part to welcome her into our Hogwarts family. And to begin, Y/N, we must sort you into your house! Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Dumbledore motioned towards Professor McGonagall and the latter took her cue to place the well-worn sorting hat upon Y/N’s head.

     Y/N was nervous about being sorted. Not because she knew what house she wanted or didn’t want to be in. In fact, she had really no prior knowledge about the houses until the sorting hat began to sing a song about their house qualities. At Ilvermorny, three different houses had chosen Y/N and she was allowed to pick the house that most appealed to her. This sorting, however, left Y/N lacking control and it made her feel slightly uncomfortable.

     “Interesting witch you are indeed,” the sorting hat whispered to Y/N. “You have many different, strong qualities that comprise your character. Where should I put you?” The sorting hat went silent while thinking. Everyone’s stare was trained on Y/N as the different houses waited with collective anticipation at the hat’s looming decision.

     “You’re intelligent, that’s for sure. You could find that Ravenclaw suites your intellectual endeavors and pushes your constant curiosity and desire to learn. I see you have an open mind and the thought of discovering something new excites you. Learning is easy for you. You’re also creative and you despise stupidity and ignorance.

     Or maybe I should place you in Gryffindor where dwell the brave at heart. You have heart, that’s for sure. And courage as well — I see you’re not afraid to speak your mind or stand up for your beliefs. You value doing the right thing and you believe in being just, but your fiery personality sometimes gets you into trouble.  

     But you have other qualities that also dominate your personality too. What a loyal and selfless friend you are. Kind and generous, loving and compassionate, you find value and beauty in every person. You care, maybe more than you should, but your warm nature just draws people in. Like a Hufflepuff, you radiate happiness and light.

    Do I sense a shadow in the light, though?

     Very loyal, yes, but I wouldn’t want to cross you. And you have a magnificent ability to adapt…quite resourceful. I see that you’re also driven by a need to do well, to succeed in whatever it is you’re doing. You’re ambitious, competitive, and were not made for mediocrity. Charismatic and unafraid to use your assets, you revel in yourself like a true Slytherin.”

     Y/N snorted to herself at the hat’s last suggestion. “I revel in myself? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She wondered.

     “Pride. You can be proud,” the hat responded emphatically.

     “Oh,” she thought, “that makes sense. I do tend to like myself.”

     “So many factors when figuring out where you belong…” the ancient relic continued, “You are complex, complicated, not everything that you appear to be. You are surprising. But I know where you will flourish. Where you truly belong. I will put you in…”  

anonymous asked:

hi! your writings are so wonderful and they make me feel v good. I'm trans* and I've been feeling really shitty about myself and I wonder if you can do some Spideypool stuff where Peter is trans but can get v dysphoric and distant and embarrassed but Deadpool is Having None of It ™ I just need some sweet fluff pls

Of course I can! Anything I can do to help. I hope you feel better. <3 


Peter shoved his hood up and hid his face. He hated being out of his suit because in the suit people treated him like a man. Outside of it, he wasn’t exactly passing, which he knew he shouldn’t worry about, but it would make his life a lot easier. The Daily Bugle kept running articles about Spider-man, trying to guess what he had under his suit, using Peter’s own pictures to zoom in on his crotch. It was the must humiliating thing Peter had ever experienced. 

There was meant to be an Avengers meeting earlier that day but Peter had skipped it. Although he could have shown up in his outfit, most of the Avengers would have been in normal clothes. They didn’t suit up for just normal meetings. The only one who probably would have been in his suit was Deadpool.

 Peter already had a missed call from Tony asking where he was. He ignored the call and made his way back to his apartment. When he saw a flash of movement, Peter immediately shot a web out, inadvertently webbing Deadpool to his living room wall. “Wade, what are you doing here?” Peter sighed, pushing his hood down.

“Came to check up on you, Petey,” Wade said, sliding his knife out of its ankle holster and cutting himself loose. “You weren’t at the AA meeting today. Are you finally cured?”

Peter laughed and went over to his kitchen, pouring a glass of milk and grabbing a container of Oreos. He gestured for Wade to join him. Wade walked over and leaned on the counter across from Peter, taking an Oreo. He slid his mask up to his nose and took a bite. Peter smiled and dunked his Oreo before popping the entire thing into his mouth.

“Seriously, Wade,” Peter said once he was done chewing. “Why are you here?”

“I was worried about you,” Wade confessed, drawing designs on the countertop with his fingertip. “It’s not like you to miss Superhero camp.”

“I wasn’t up to going today,” Peter responded, dunking another cookie. “Did I miss anything exciting?”

Wade shook his head. “Just general Avengers stuff, nothing important.”

Peter dropped his chin in his hand and looked up at Wade. “Will you take the mask off?” he asked softly.

Wade froze for a moment. “You sure you wanna look at this fugly mug while you’re eating?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Just take it off, Wade. This is a safe space for all kinds.”

Wade shrugged. “If you insist,” he said, pulling the mask off the rest of the way.

“And take off your weapons while you’re at it, stay a while,” Peter requested, downing the rest of the milk.

“You want me to stay?” Wade asked, his eyes widening comically large. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, taking Wade’s mask and putting it on his own face. “I don’t think it’s good for me to be alone right now. I mean, I want to be alone, but it would probably be better if I wasn’t.”

“Oh sweetums, you can’t go around wearing my mask,” Wade purred, leaning further over the counter. “It does things to me.”

“It smells like taco meat,” Peter said, chuckling softly.

Wade grinned. “Well, you are what you eat.”

Peter took the mask off and lied it down on the counter between them. He shoved a few more Oreos into his mouth and then downed the rest of the milk. “So now what?”

“We could always cuddle,” Wade offered, scratching his cheek.

Peter smiled and walked around the counter. He took Wade’s hand and led him into the bedroom. Peter pulled off his hoodie and shimmied out of his jeans, getting into the bed in just a t-shirt and his boxers. Wade kept the suit on as he climbed in next to Peter.

“What’s bothering you, Spidey?” Wade asked, nuzzling Peter affectionately.

Peter sighed and curled in closer to Wade, resting happily against the wide expanse of muscle and sinew that made up Deadpool. “Sometimes I’m just not happy,” he confessed. “And I want to be the way I think of myself, you know? I don’t want to be the way other people think I am.”

“Whoa Spidey, you’re talkin’ crazier than I usually do,” Wade teased, pulling Peter into his arms. “You are who you choose to be.”

Peter laughed. “Did you just quote The Iron Giant at me?”

“Criminally underrated movie,” Wade said, pressing kisses to Peter’s hairline. “When the Giant goes into the sky to stop the nuke and he says I go, you stay, no following. Shit, Petey, I was a total waterworks!”

“Same,” Peter said. “Wade, do you think of me as a guy?”

“Of course I do,” Wade said, kissing Peter on the tip of his nose. “You’re my baby boy, right?”

Peter smiled and nodded. “Will you kiss me?”

“Oh Spidey,” Wade said, running his fingers through Peter’s hair. “I’ve been waiting forever and a day for you to ask me that.”

Wade ducked his head down and kissed Peter so tenderly that it made Peter’s eyes well up with tears. No one had ever made him feel the way Wade did, no one had ever accepted him so completely. Wade’s lips were gentle against his own, not insisting or pushing for more. It made warmth bloom in Peter’s chest.

“How did you know?” Peter whispered, cupping Wade’s face in his hands with such reverence. “How did you know I needed you?”

Wade turned his head and pressed a kiss to the center of Peter’s palm. “I didn’t know you needed me, I just thought you might need someone.”

“I needed you,” Peter told him, kissing him sweetly. “I think maybe you’re the only person who could have made me feel better.”

Wade grinned. “Wade W. Wilson to the rescue! Hotties in distress call 1-800-Deadpool!”

Peter laughed. “That’s too many letter.”

Wade pursed his lips together. “Fine, 1-800-Ded-Pool. Close enough.”

“So you think I’m hot?” Peter asked, biting his bottom lip nervously.

“Are you kidding, baby boy? You’re smokin’!” 

Peter giggled and cuddled in close to Wade. “Thanks, Wade.”

“Any time, Petey,” Wade said, gently rubbing his hand up and down Peter’s back. “You know you’re my favorite.”

Peter hummed and closed his eyes. “I might fall asleep on you,” he mumbled.

“Baby boy, that would be the highlight of my decade,” Wade informed him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“More than kissing me?” Peter teased.

Wade huffed. “Let’s just say it’s been a good day.”

Peter considered for a moment and then nodded. “It’s getting to be a good day,” he agreed. 

Omegaverse AU: s/o gets into heat in public/meeting and Tsuna + Xanxus + Yamamoto + Mukuro get super possessive/ protective leading to nsfw


You hadn’t realized what was happening until it was already too late and you were in the middle of a meeting, trembling with need in a corner and trying to remain firm in the face of your vulnerability, attempting to keep attention off of yourself by not attracting it in the first place. You knew the suppressant should have lasted you another four days at the very least because you were so very, very careful about your time spent in Heat, knowing how dangerous it could be in the Mafia if it wasn’t kept in check and under wraps for the most part.

(you wouldn’t find out until later that it hadn’t been through any fault of your own that the pill had failed you, but rather your own metabolism because it turned out all that running around you did and those self-defense classes not only got you into shape but heightened it too; you only had to remember to adjust your dosage accordingly from now on, but you couldn’t exactly say that you regretted the mishap, considering what happened next)

Because while you had been more occupied with your problems, the fact that you were steadily going into Heat throughout the meeting did not escape his notice, nor did the considering glances of others.

Tsuna had to clench his hands into fists to prevent himself from clawing their eyes out and crushing them in his grasp, perhaps burning them into smoldering ash with his flames soon after. Because they didn’t deserve the right to even consider, let alone fantasize, taking what was his and having their way with you. It made him bristle, and it was with vindictive pleasure that he called them out on it in a roundabout way, “If I could steal your attention away from your thoughts for just one moment, we might actually get some productive work done and get on with our lives and wives.”

That remark certainly caught their attention, but Tsuna airily continued over the sounds of startled chokes and surprised gasps, as if he hadn’t just mentioned the fact that they were all very horny and thinking lewd thoughts. His eyes sought out your own while the rest cleared their throats and found the papers in front of them suddenly very interesting.

The noise covered up your small gasp at the sheer intensity of his gaze, hard brown depths that seemed to flicker with orange, like fire in the middle of a woods. It was mesmerizing, leaving you unable to look away as Tsuna smirked smugly, eyes promising things that made your stomach do a giddy little flip and your thighs clench in anticipation.

He turned away, and you could breathe again but were left wanting. What a tease. At this point, you wouldn’t mind if he took you right here in front of everyone, right on the long meeting table eve. Hell, most of the people present probably wouldn’t mind the show either or would be too busy taking the moment to rush out of the room and finds their own mates to care about decorum…

Somehow you found the strength to shakily continue to write down notes and record the history on the meeting on the clipboard in your tense lap at your out-of-the-way chair in the corner. Because even if you were in the throes of Heat, even with your body shivering with need and your instincts screaming to take over and make you present yourself to the room at large in the hopes to attract the attention of the Sky once more… Your Will was stronger and you wanted to do this much right in the face of your overwhelming weakness.

(and maybe, just maybe, because you knew that such hard work would be noted and generously rewarded if you played your cards right…)

The moment the meeting ended and the room had been hastily cleared, Tsuna casually shut the door to the meeting room. And locked it. The room was utterly silent, not even the sound of your breathing was audible because you held your breath the moment he stood up and sauntered across the room. The Vongola boss didn’t move, instead, he elected to dress you down with his eyes and give a coy little smile in your direction, which widened until he bared his teeth at you in an exaggerated leer.

Voice low and dangerously husky, he purred, “Y/n, give me the names of all those present today.”

Releasing a shaky breath, you did so, reading off the small side notes you had taken before your little problem reared its ugly head.

“Hmm, good,” he hummed, the deep register immediately doing wicked things to your hormones and arousal. His eyes had a mischievous gleam to them as he stalked closer, rapidly diminishing the gap between him and you. He murmured, “Let’s try something a bit harder then, what was it that Don Machiavelli suggested we do about the deficit?”

You thanked your lucky stars for powering through and taking the notes. “He implied that we should spend less on making ‘magic bullets’ and more on technological advances to make up for the gap between us and the civilian militia, Sir.”

“Yes, yes, that’s right, I remember now,” he pressed you against the wall with his weight, taking the clipboard from your trembling hands and carelessly tossing it on the meeting table. “Just one more question, Y/n, and no notes needed for this answer.”

He leaned in and brought his mouth to your ear, breath blowing against it hotly and his lip brushing against skin as he asked, “Tell me, Y/n, who is it that you belong to? Full answer, please.”

“The Tenth Vongola boss,” you choked out in a moan, arms sliding around his neck and hands needily grasping at his hair. “Tsunayoshi Sawada.”

“And no one else,” he added with a hiss before claiming your mouth with his.


The crowd was thick and pressing from all sides in the market place, but there was a respectful distance maintained from them and Xanxus (and yourself by proxy) because of the intimidating aura he gave off. His glower promised violent and gruesome things if someone so much as brushed against you, but that had more to do with the fact that you had went into Heat in the middle of what was supposed to be a mundane afternoon of running domestic errands.

(he might not have had the famed Vongola intuition, but Xanxus’s instincts had still prickled and insisted that something was off; no amount of complaining or grumbling about ‘not needing a bodyguard to get a gallon of milk’ could deter him; but it had turned out for the best as you were already near your wit’s end and you didn’t even have to deal with people pushing you around or chatting you up)

If it were on any other occasion, it would almost be comical seeing your honey badger of a boyfriend stalk around with his arms loaded down with bags and profusely swearing at the grocery list in his hand… But as it was, you were just as testy as Xanxus and more than ready to get home to put an end to the Heat.

Because as amusing as it was seeing your boyfriend growl at people who so much as looked at you sideways, you didn’t want to see him get into a fight.

Spotting a changing room off to the side, a particularly devious idea came to mind. “Xanxus,” you called out sweetly, ignoring his gruff ‘what’ barked in your direction. “Let’s go in here.”

“Why? Are seriously going to trying on clothes right now?” He grumbled irritably. “What a fucking waste of time. You already have more clothes than you need, don’t even wear half of them.”

“Come on, ‘Xus,” you cajoled. “Trust me on this, you won’t regret it.”

“You don’t need me to hold your fucking hand, you’re a grown-ass adult, go in by yourself.”

“Well, it kind of hard to get off without you helping when I’m in Heat and I can’t wait to get home so we’re doing it right here and right now,” you insisted in an urgent whisper, tugging on his sleeve. “No one’s behind the desk… Nobody will even know that the two of us just had sex in the fitting room.”

“Maybe, if you can be quiet and somehow manage to not scream my name for everyone to hear,” the Varia Boss retorted as he began to herd you discreetly into one of the larger family stalls.

“Really? Who was the yelling at the top of their lungs last night?” You blinked innocently, before choking on a laugh when you were press hard against the wall, grocery bags tossed to the side and forgotten for the moment.

Xanxus growled, “Why don’t you stop being so fucking cheeky and use that smart mouth of yours for things other than talking, huh?” You only had a second to snicker quietly to yourself before being forced to stifle a groan when he grinded against you hips.


You squinted down at the field below, trying to keep the white blur in sight as it zoomed from one end down to the other, lightning fast with an equally thunderous crack! of a baseball bat. There was a cheer from the crowd, but you couldn’t tell if it was because the ball had been caught or if it had been dropped (it couldn’t touch the ground, otherwise it was a foul… right?), because you were too dizzy and light headed at the moment to keep it all straight. Not to mention, you had long forgotten which team to root for three innings ago.

It was unbearably hot in the little private viewing box that was exclusive for those with big wallets and enough connections to emulate a massive spider’s web.

You leaned on Yamamoto’s arm, as his body temperature always seemed to run a little lower than most people’s. His bare arm was refreshingly cool against your hot cheek. If it got any warmer, you’d be panting. As it stood, you just felt an uncomfortable pressure and tension in your belly that was starting to feel forebodingly familiar to you, but it was still a little too early for you to tell if it was you going into a mild Heat or if you were just feeling a little under the weather from eating too much sushi earlier.

(seafood had never really sat well in your gut before, but it had been so good this time around with your new partner that you couldn’t help but stuff yourself full of it; not to mention, Yamamoto looked so happy that you enjoyed food that his father had made that you couldn’t regret your gluttony)

To be honest, you already felt somewhat content, so the vague feeling of possible-arousal was muted and even a bit uncomfortable. It wasn’t until your groin started to feel highly-sensitive in your tight jeans and the vague-want turned into an absent-need that you acknowledged the fact that, yes, you were in Heat and, yes, you wanted to screw your boyfriend right now at this very moment.

Yamamoto was aware of your little… situation for quite some time now and had been getting progressively edgier as the baseball game went on. On one hand, he was starting to get aroused and excited himself just by being in such close proximity to you. One the other hand, this was a game he had been looking forward too for months, the amount of strings he had to pull, favors he had to call in, and work he had to finish ahead of schedule just to get the time off had been utterly ridiculous.

His self-control over his libido might have been enough to hold out until the game was over… Had the two of you been alone. Unfortunately, the luxury box had a few staff in it to attend to the patrons’ needs. And there were both men and women alike who were eying the both of you like particularly tasty catches that they were thinking about poaching.

“Why don’t the four of you take a break?” He ‘suggested’, express almost friendly if not for the way his eyes seemed to hold a storm behind them and how his smile seemed a little too sharp. “We’ll call you if we need you.”

“Sir, I don’t believe —“

“I’m not asking,” Yamamoto interrupted, voice still warm but it was obvious that ‘no’ wasn’t an acceptable answer to him. His eyes lowered to a half-mast as he inclined his head, expression becoming disinterested and impatient, “I’ll pay for any damages you find, but for now, your services won’t be necessary. Leave us.”

The moment the staff left you blurted, “That really wasn’t necessary, Takeshi. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Eh? But I wanted to, Y/n, I didn’t like the way they were looking at you. Besides, what sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t mate with you while you’re in Heat? Unless you don’t want to…”

You let out a surprised but pleased laugh, “I do! I just thought you would want to watch the game instead.”

“Y/n, there’s nothing I would rather see than you writhing underneath me and calling out my name,” he purred before guiding you down on the leather couch and bringing your legs up to circle around his hips. This was one intermission that he wouldn’t mind having mid-game.


You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, realizing with dread that the swooping sensation in your stomach wasn’t the change in altitude at all. Of all the places you had the Heat crop up, in an airplane was probably the most inconvenient and unfortunate. It was crowded and you were sitting elbow to elbow with others. Even with your partner sitting beside you while you took the window seat, there wasn’t anything to shield you from the attention and suggestive comments of anyone in the immediate area.

You had absolutely no idea how you were going to survive hours of this.

Burying your uncomfortably flushed face into Mukuro’s jacket wasn’t helping either, his unique scent was wreaking havoc on your hormones and it was a struggle to not start something that you could, unfortunately, not finish. Despite his claims to the contrary, you boyfriend was not a wizard as far as you were aware and couldn’t perform miracles. Just illusions and tricks.

You doubted that his romantic, if over the top, magic trick of making it rain flower petals or making things disappear and reappear would be enough of a distract to the other passengers to have them overlook the two of you making out in such an enclosed space.

He wrapped his arm protectively around your shoulders, hiding your shivering form a little more fully. The support helped a little bit in making you feel a little better about the whole situation, but you still desperately wished that you hadn’t decided to wait until tomorrow to take the next Heat suppressant pill, of all the rotten luck. It took you a moment to realize through the hazy of your self-pity and arousal that Mukuro was murmuring something quietly in your ear. Of course, it was a little too much to hope for that it would be reassurances and not teasingly lewd promises of things they could do to spend the time.

“Not helping!” You hissed into his side. “Some boyfriend you are, making mean jokes like that, you can sleep on the couch when we get home.”

“Oya, oya, Y/n, have a little faith. I never make impossible claims,” he soothed, hand wandering down your back to grope your butting in a proprietary fashion and remain there firmly. “I’m guessing that means you not against the idea?”

“I wouldn’t be if it were actually possible! There’s no way that the two of us would be able to sneak past over two hundred people into the restrooms and have sex without them know exactly what we were doing. This airplane isn’t very big you know!” Came your muffled protests as you gripped his shirt tightly in one fist while sticking your other clammy hand underneath it against his ribs, knowing it annoyed him. Served him right, the jerk

“If I pull this off, you can’t doubt my talents for what they are,” was the only warning you received before Mukuro abruptly stood up and, to your absolute horror, shouted at the top of his lungs, “ATTENTION PASSENGERS, MY NAME IS ROKUDO MUKURO AND I’M GOING TO GO HAVE THE BEST SEX OF MY LIFE WITH PARTNER, Y/N, ON THIS VERY PLANE! THIS HAS BEEN A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT!”

“Mukuro!” You choked out, voice strangled, “Sit down!” He didn’t, instead electing to gaze at you smugly. You waited for the disgusted backlash of the other passengers, for a flight attendant or two to come over and have words with him and you, for your life to end as you knew it… But nothing happened.

“Kufufufu, they can’t hear us, Y/n. Can’t see us either, see?” He leaned over and snapped his fingers in front a man’s face that was in the aisle seat. There was no reaction in the person’s glazed over eyes. “Believe me now?”

Hesitantly, cautiously, you stood up yourself, looking about you. It really seemed as if no one noticed the two of you, and it seemed almost too good to be true when the man in the aisle seat still didn’t react when you and your boyfriend climbed over him to get out. The only way you could begin to explain this was that it was a very strange wet dream you were having.

But dream or not, Mukuro skills in sex were out of this world.

Astronomy In Reverse

A while ago I had some Mom Pearl and Precious Smol Son Steven feelings, so this came about. It was written as a Back to the Barn followup, but I’m still stuck working out Space Race issues, don’t look at me. Also probably a lot of wish-fulfillment here, I don’t know, I just want them to have this conversation, I guess.

I’m mostly making an effort to spend less time agonising over posting things and more actually posting things, especially these relatively casual ficlets and drabbles (although this one ran away from me). So far I’ve managed two, so yay, progress.

~2500 words of Pearl and Steven and Crying Breakfast Friends, some Pearl/Rose and Pearl/space, with a couple of mentions of Homeworld grossness, especially towards pearls, but brief and in very general terms.

Astronomy In Reverse

Being thrown about like a rag doll and hammered into the ground wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience, to be certain. But Pearl had had far, far worse, and the sting of scrapes and formal defeat and bruised knuckles all rapidly faded when faced with Steven’s concern and Amethyst’s enthusiasm and, especially after everything that had happened between them, Garnet’s pride.

And then, of course, Steven’s impassioned defense of her, just when she’d been so worried-

Peridot didn’t even rank, really, and Pearl refused to let her have any more importance, or power of whatever kind.

The sun had long gone down by the time she made some real headway with the drill blueprint outlines. And there was Steven, in his favourite yellow pyjamas, getting ready for his first night up on the barn loft as Department Head of the UUU Space Travel Gem Drill Division, probably coming to get his good night hug and kiss.

Keep reading

Separate Lives, ch 39 (39/37)

Ch21/Ch22/Ch23/Ch24/Ch25 /Ch26 /Ch27 /Ch28 /Ch29 /Ch30 /
Ch31 /Ch 32 /Ch 33 /Ch 34 /Ch35 /Ch36/ Ch 37 / Ch38

Fic tag: It will also include notes on the fic and music and lyrics inspiration :)

Read it also on Ao3 or FF

Summary: Set after 3x20 “Kansas”. After saving the town one more time, Emma decided to return to New York, leaving her past behind. Three years later, she realizes that might be not have been the best decision.

I want to thank spartanguard for the banner!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @laschatzi​!

My dear, my love, the rum allergy to my goat’s milk. Cara mia, conoscerti qui c’estata una delle piu belle cose che mi hanno succeso in questo fandom! Ho pensato… cosa puoi scrivere per la zucchera? :P  E doppo mi sono decisa per questo, L’ultima parte di questa storia, che c’e grazie a te. Spero che ti piaccia!

Epilogue II: The Pirate Princess


Penelope was his undoing. Killian had always thought that Emma was his weakness, only to learn that Liam and Henry’s combined manipulation skills that could best even a three hundred year old pirate like himself.

But Penelope, she was something else.

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cs fic: have yourself a merry little christmas

Summary: Holiday AU! emma’s kind of a scrooge and it’s up to killian to show her the true meaning of holiday spirit

Author’s Note: fluff, fluff, fluffity fluff. Based on this post. This is essentially a Hallmark movie

He could remember precisely what she’d worn the day she moved in, even though it was snowing when he first noticed her, a shimmery figure obscured by swirls of white. She looked to be a tough lass, enshrouded in layers of dark leather. Through a space in his window, Killian had been able to see the precise mark of her scowl as she glanced over at his lawn decorations – he’d thought his wrought-iron reindeer set was actually rather tasteful – before lugging a cardboard box onto her porch.

Two weeks before Christmas and it would seem all the lass had to her name was a pick-up truck’s worth of belongings and a scowl that could curdle milk. He’d offered to help her move things in, but Emma – he’d essentially had to pry that information out of her – had insisted she was perfectly fine by herself. She’d gone on to say that she hoped his lights wouldn’t keep her up at night, to which Killian insisted she would never notice them – knowing deep down that his were the brightest on the block. Huffing, Emma had thanked him and walked inside, leaving him alone in the frigid Maine air.

Peculiarly striking green eyes, was the only thing Killian could recall about his meeting with her, that and the fact that she seemed trapped within a cloud of vulnerability and overcompensation. Most men would have taken Emma’s chilly silence as her overall personality, but Killian saw misery, and he hadn’t had company in ages.


A week or so before Christmas, it became strikingly clear that Emma Swan wasn’t particularly thrilled about his choice of decorations. Stomping across his yard as he’d been pulling groceries from the car, Emma had interrogated him about his lights – “I can’t seriously be the only one on the block who’s bothered by this!” to which he had responded by saying that she actually was. She’d continued to rant– “some people need sleep, you know, without a million mega-watts of electricity shining in their face!” – and had even kicked a gnome in her outrage when he’d responded to her complaints by calling her Lady Scrooge.

Albeit one of his less inspired insults, Killian still felt terrible and decided that Emma Swan needed her own healthy dash of Christmas cheer. Besides, he had an ample amount of decorations to spare.


The only reason Emma even noticed the box on her porch was because she tripped over the damn thing on her way to work. Flailing out of the snow and cursing every deity she could name, Emma very nearly ripped the box apart with her bare hands. Seething, she blew breath out of her nostrils furiously, ignorant to the fact that she looked absolutely ridiculous fuming in the snow.

Opening the box sucked the air from her lungs; she hadn’t received a present from anyone in years and although the sweater inside was hideously overwhelmed with snowflakes and reindeer, the simple act was enough to make her want to cry.

There was a note pinned to the sweater:

         Emma Swan,

I sincerely hope this finds you well and that the snow doesn’t conceal its location – Emma huffed in annoyance – but I’m hosting a party this Friday and I hope to see you there. The sweater is the theme – if you hadn’t already guessed. Looking forward to seeing you!

                                Killian Jones

Of course her stupidly handsome neighbor would do something like host Christmas parties – if his lawn décor was any indication of his fervor for the holiday she didn’t know what was. Ever since she’d casually mentioned that she didn’t really see the point of Christmas – mostly to thwart his offer to help her move in – he seemed to have made it his personal mission to shower her with “holiday cheer”.

Her fridge was currently stocked with yule logs and eggnog and cranberries; Emma knew she would never consume any of it (unless she invited Killian over for dinner – which she most decidedly did not want to do) but had been unable to turn any of it away whenever he stopped by. The man practically was the human embodiment of a puppy: thrilled to see her, impossible to shake when she least expected to run into him.

It had only been a week since she’d moved in and only a week left until Christmas (a fact Killian seemed to mention every single time he saw her). Normally, Emma would have clocked someone in the face for being so damn persistent, when she’d made it fairly evident she wished to be left alone (her incident outside of his house still made her cringe to remember it). But for some reason, Killian’s dogged determination was endearing to her and she couldn’t help but find him charming, even likeable.

She refused to date anyone – the catastrophe with Neal had driven her out of the state; what would she do if she dated her neighbor? – and this policy had served her well.

If only she could stop thinking about Killian’s smile, and the fact that the man had bothered to buy her a sweater for a party he knew she probably wouldn’t go to.


Emma’s absence from his party was acutely felt. Killian supposed his idea of killing off Emma’s Scrooge-y attitude toward Christmas had been a bit too ambitious – and perhaps entirely unnesseccary. Maybe she really did want to be alone, but how could that be, especially after their encounter at the market, Emma purchasing what seemed to be a Christmas dinner for one, eyes shrouded in disappointment. She was made up of stubbornness, seemed to be born out of the stuff, unwilling to acknowledge any vulnerability.

Glancing out of the window, Killian startled, noticing Emma out in the snow, hanging the ornaments he’d given her on one of her trees. Perhaps she sensed his eyes on her, for she turned sharply. Their gaze locked; he smiled broadly despite himself, seeing that she was wearing the sweater he’d packaged up for her. She smiled too, shyly, and waved at him before returning to the trees.

Perhaps giving up on her wasn’t an option after all.


The next day, Emma awoke to a light knocking at her door. She’d fallen asleep on her couch, for the warmth from the fireplace gave off far better heat than anything else in the house. Her mind entertained a brief and sleepy notion of better ways to keep warm, an idea which accompanied her to the door, only to find Killian shuffling outside in the snow.

Blushing furiously, Emma ran a hand through her hair hurriedly, knowing it was all for naught.

“Killian! Don’t you know it’s – ”

“Noon?” he offered, smirking in that way of his that did peculiar things to her insides.

“Oh.” She said softly, the argument having left her. “Right. Well, I was still sleeping, so you better have something good.”

“I brought you some lights to rival mine, if that’s all right with you.”

“Yours do keep me up at night,” she laughed, taking the strands from him. Emma glanced down at his left arm and noticed – for the first time – its end at the wrist. Killian followed her gaze and a sharp twinge of pain flashed in his face when he heard Emma’s small gasp. He turned to go, suddenly and angrily, murmuring something about checking on a roast, leaving Emma alone on her porch, lights dangling uselessly from her hands.

She’d never felt so despicable in all her life – she’d simply never noticed before and it wasn’t as though it mattered, because of course it didn’t and it certainly didn’t bother her; this was Killian and she’d like him no matter what. God, she’d hurt him without even meaning to – her damn surprise at her own lack of observation being the reason she’d been stunned to see it. Emma realized that she actually quite liked Killian and the prospect of not seeing him for the remainder of her stay in Maine was crushing. She even liked his ridiculous lawn ornaments and the fact that he kept his home so well lit her own lawn resembled what it looked like during the day.

You’re not meant for friends, Swan, Emma thought as she trudged back into the house, unceremoniously dragging the lights in behind her. Especially not for people as good as Killian.


Later that evening, as Killian was trying to determine whether or not he was going to remain hurt by the event earlier, he heard a knock at his door. Opening it revealed none other than Emma Swan herself, red-rimmed eyes and wild hair an indication that she’d spent some time thinking about the situation herself.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, as though she hadn’t expected him to answer. “Hi.”

Her voice bordered on shy, but the words were still rough around the edges, as though she were concealing her apprehension through diction. Killian couldn’t help but smile.

“Hullo, Emma. Like to come in?”

Emma’s breath was a muggy cloud in front of her face. “Yes, please.”

Words tumbled out of her mouth before she’d even had the chance to sit down; she simply began pacing in front of his fireplace, roughly wringing her hands as though she were trying to rub off the skin.

“I’m so sorry, Killian, I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable, or for you to think that I was uncomfortable – because I am definitely not – and I wanted you to know that I was being an ass, an absolute ass for responding that way, and I’d just never noticed before, is all, and that’s why I reacted, because I’m such an idiot with people – ”

“Hang on, lass, hang on! You’ll give yourself an attack!” Killian was sure she’d never said so many words to him in their entire acquaintance.

Emma stopped, took a breath and gave him such a tremulous smile Killian felt as though his heart cracked. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Emma, really. I shouldn’t have taken off like that.”

“You know I don’t care, right? I mean I do care about you, of course, but I don’t think less of you or anything – God, I’m terrible at this – and I just felt so awful when you left that I had to make it right.”

“Miss me, eh?”

He hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking that made him see Emma flush, so he settled on it being the firelight.

“Well, someone has to decorate my house,” she said, laughing.


“So what happened?” she asked later, settling in to the cushions of his armchair, cup of cocoa nestled snugly in her hands. She’d become significantly more comfortable and at ease in the last hour, her earlier apprehension and embarrassment forgotten.

“Lost it in a boating accident. Some mates and I were sailing off the coast and it was choppy waters that day. It got caught between some rigging. Damn things crushed all of the tendons and the bones and the doctor said it’d be best if it came off.”

Emma was staring intently at him, her eyes a malachite green. She was truly beautiful, the most lovely woman he’d ever seen, her hair and skin glowing with the flames of the fire. Kissing her didn’t seem to be an option – hell, he’d known the woman for barely a week and a half – but he couldn’t help but notice that her eyes drifted down to his mouth as well.

Abruptly, Emma said, “I’m sorry I kicked your gnome.”

Killian snorted in surprise and perhaps the noise set Emma off as well, for both of them started laughing uncontrollably, only stopping periodically to recount the memory of it in their own ways.

Before she left, Emma leaned against the door jamb and smiled at the tree in the parlor. “Your decorations aren’t all bad, Jones.” Departing with a smile that outshone even the lights on the block, Killian closed the door behind her with a sigh, leaning his forehead on the wood. Damn, was he in trouble.


Not fully understanding why she needed to do it, but maintaining that she must, Emma Swan found herself amidst a flurry of flour and sugar without knowing quite sure how she’d got there. It was Christmas Eve and she hadn’t heard from Killian since that night in front of the fire – she couldn’t have been the only one dying to snog the living daylights out of the other – and she needed an arsenal of baked goods by her side when she went over there again, just in case her plan to ask him out ended in crushing defeat.

In the past few days, Emma had decided that not dating anyone wasn’t particularly helpful to anyone – especially when what she really needed was a mere twenty feet from her doorstep. So she’d constructed a plan to make Killian some gingerbread cookies, show up on his porch wearing that stupid sweater of his, and tell him he’d officially made her enjoy Christmas.

However, the plan was foiled, for he showed up at her house, minutes before she was about to change and make herself presentable – she was fairly positive that dark streak in her hair was molasses and her clothes would forever be stained white with flour.

“Cooking, are we, Swan?”

He stood in the doorway of her kitchen, smirking – damn him! – and looking so utterly adorable with his arms folded across his chest, smiling at her like she owned the damn moon or something. So instead of smacking him across the face for ruining her element of surprise, she walked over and grabbed him by the lapels of his pea-coat, crashing her mouth onto his. He uttered a soft sigh and molded against her, running his hand up and down her back, dragging her closer to him.

“I take it those are for me?” he murmured against her neck and she pulled away to make sure he could see her smiling.

“They’re your Christmas present,” she said by way of explanation, and Killian grinned, laughing at the state of her hair and clothes.

“You went all out, I see.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her again.

“It was either this or a hook,” Emma teased before she dashed up the stairs, Killian hot on her heels, the pair of them laughing like lunatics while they leaned against the wood of her bedroom door.

Gently pressing his forehead to hers, Killian said softly, tenderly, “Happy Christmas, Emma Swan.”

And indeed it was.


End Notes: Oh my God, was this not the fluffiest thing you’ve ever read? My teeth hurt from all this sugary goodness.