#I am outside your house banging pots and pans

[halobirthdays]

Happy birthday to Master Chief Petty Officer, Spartan John-117!

[agirlking]

That was a film. It exists. It says…something. Maybe. It has characters, they're there. They have motives and relationships. I mean I don't get any of them because it's all plowed through at a million miles an hour so it can be an action adventure film. But it PROBABLY has characters that probably feel…something. And it's saying…something. It has themes! That exist! Maybe!

[roombagreyjoy]

What did you do to my problematic fave

[bontenten]

Bewitch

Pairings: Osamu x F!Reader x Atsumu; Miyacest WC: 7.4k Genre/Warnings: smut, fairytale retelling (Hansel and Gretel), magic au, dubcon/noncon, incest (miyacest), fear, knife, monster, bondage, snuff, vore, gore/blood, object insertion, body horror, a bit of size, tummy bulge, oral (m.receiving), anal (m. receiving), masturbation (f. & m.), voyeurism, arson...

Summary: The unexpected guests at your cottage have a mysterious past and hidden agenda. Will they allow you to accompany them on their journey?

Travelers are advised not to spend the night in the Dark Woods. It's said that beyond the last hiking trail, past a brook, lives an Evil Witch. That witch is vile and merciless; often, fools lost in the woods are never seen again. It's said that she must be over 800 years old, feeding off of the essences of children and young men unfortunate enough to cross her paths. It’s said that she even eats fellow witches. No one really knows. After all, no one who has seen her has lived to tell the tale.

It's been a few months since your teacher has left you to fend for yourself here in the woods—your first time alone during this apprenticeship. She said she had to attend a big conference with a whole bunch of other grand witches. You asked if you could tag along, but she insisted that you stay and watch the cottage. The lack of company is about to drive you insane so you often resort to conversing with yourself or the forest itself.

The soft moss muffles the sound of your footsteps as you begin the trek back home, a faint off-trail path away from the main road that no one else would usually notice. On any other day, you would just go home without a fuss, but loneliness makes people do some bizarre and odd things. For instance, the desperate longing for companionship leads to you dropping a not-so-hidden trail of fancy pebbles to inadvertently lead someone to your abode.

For most travelers, going off-trail is akin to a death sentence as any wrong turn might lure them into the forest's deadly maze. Not for you though, you know this place very well: every fallen tree, overturned log, the wanted signs nailed to the trunk...

Wait. A wanted sign?

You can make out from your distance that there are two heads on it, but the details are fuzzy, and the bounty looks smudged. Before you can get a closer look, you hear the birds caw in the trees, signaling the beginning of sunset. You pull your attention away from the poster and continue on to your way home.

The cottage is extremely cozy and warm. The windows are bejeweled and the door is solid wood. You live here comfortably with your teacher, after all, learning about the principles of magic and what it means to be a witch. It's much more than curses and spells, as your teacher would tell you, witches have character and a moral compass. Although there are certainly those who decide to experiment with the darker arts.

While you get a fire going in the huge furnace and boil some water on the stovetop, you hear two voices squabbling outside followed by three raps on the door. You're stunned by the noise, turning to face the shut door wondering if you were just dreaming about the noise. Is it? Visitors? No, you must have heard wrong.

"'Samu, I bet it's a farce, let's not." The voice sounds both tired and weary, almost out of breath.

"Let me just try again, I can smell a working kitchen in there, someone is definitely there," another voice insists. Three more knocking sounds. "Excuse me! Is the owner of the house available? My brother and I followed a path of colored stone and came upon your establishment...could you spare us some water? A bite of food?"

Two men, though they sound friendly. You're frozen in the kitchen, staring at the door that remains between you and the strangers.

"Is there someone home?" The second voice tries again. "Please, my brother is not feeling very well."

Your initial wariness for the stranger melts when you hear about the brother, which does not sound like a lie based on the raspy voice you first hear. A witch's character is fundamentally kind to all sentient beings, especially those in need. But you're still nervous, so you end up grabbing a metal ladle before carefully going to open the door. When you crack the door open, you see a pair of twins. Beautiful men, one blonde and one grey-haired. The former, with a quirky grin, although his eyes certainly look lackluster. But the other seems like he's at the right place, eyes peering past you into your home, fixated on your kitchen.

"I'm Osamu. And this," he gestures to his twin, "is my brother Atsumu. We're a bit lost, you see."

You nod your head in a casual greeting and introduce yourself as the resident apprentice at this cottage. As a good host should, you open the door to the weary guests preparing to welcome them in.

"Are we welcomed in?" Osamu asks, not moving from his spot. Atsumu isn’t budging either, arms crossed and only looking at you from the corner of his eye, waiting for your answer.

Without giving much thought you nod and open the door wider. "Both of you are most welcomed in."

"Then we thank you for your hospitality," Osamu says, taking a step inside, dragging his twin with him.

Words, especially spoken words carry power and hold intent. And a witch's words, no matter how careless they slip out, contain magic. Welcome, as you say. So welcome, they are.

You shut the door behind them and prepare to go give your first-ever guests some water. When you turn around, you notice Osamu already in the kitchen, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up past his elbows.

"Your food is about to burn. Heat's too high," he tells you, expertly taking control of the sizzling pots and pans. "I got it, don't worry."

Feeling flustered at the faint smell of scorching food, you hurry over to see if you can be of any assistance. "Let me help out."

"No, it's quite alright."

How can a host let her guests do all the work like that? And the first company in a while too! What an utter failure.

"How—" you try to argue back, but you're cut off by Atsumu tugging on your wrist, dragging you over to the sofa in the corner.

"Don't worry about him, he loves to cook." Atsumu brushes out the wisps of his bangs with a huff. "And actually quite good at it. Anything that goes through his hands...well, in short, all become part of his design."

Like his twin, Atsumu's frame is broad and huge, but there is a quality of emptiness of sorts. Osamu's shoulders are wide but there's more substance to it, whereas Atsumu's form seems contained. You can't help but use your learnings to see if you can figure out just what's off about Atsumu. He's slowly walking around the living room and studying the portraits hanging on the wall. He picks up a frame that is set above the fireplace and comments, "None of these are you. How come?"

"Oh, they're my teacher. I'm just a witch-in-training at the moment, so—"

"A witch?" Atsumu questions, clenching the frame tightly. His hands begin to shake, the glass under his thumb beginning to crack.

You did not expect Atsumu to display such a visceral reaction upon the mention of witches. After all, witches normally stayed far away from ordinary human society and when they do mix, it's often a role of healing. But the look that sparks in Atsumu's eyes, it's almost—feral.

"'Tsumu!" Osamu yells while stalking over quickly from the kitchen. He throws his arm around Atsumu's neck and drags him off into the shadows. You can't make out the muffled voices and deep growling noises that are coming from down the hall.

It's their private matter, so you go back to the kitchen. True enough, Osamu's hands are almost like magic. The bubbling pot of broth doesn't seem to be on the verge of overflowing, the onions caramelizing beautifully, filling the air with deliciousness.

Moments later, the twins come back. You notice that Osamu clothes are wrinkled from tugging Atsumu around, but at the very least, Atsumu is looking much better than before.

The three of you set the table for dinner. Osamu brings out the plates as though he knows the kitchen inside and out already. Atsumu comes emerging from the cellar with two bottles of fine wine that you didn't even know your teacher had stowed away. Surely, she wouldn't mind? With Osamu and Atsumu sitting to the left and right of you at the round table, it almost feels like a more familiar, cozier gathering between friends than a situation of a host and her guests.

They tell you that they have been traveling across the lands for a long time now, looking for a cure for Atsumu's illness. It reminds you of the hollow, repressed form you saw earlier and your curiosity gets the better of you. They don't tell you the nature of the malady, but what they do share is that they are looking for a witch to undo the curse on Atsumu, a result of dark witchcraft.

"I am a witch!" you exclaim, feeling your call to action at the moment. "Please, is there truly nothing for me to help to undo the spell?"

Osamu leans in close to you, and wipes a bit of sauce staining the corner of your lips with the pad of his thumb. He smiles. "We're looking for a very high-level witch. One day, maybe you'll get to the level of magic needed."

"You're too weak," Atsumu bluntly points out. You're sure Osamu means to say the same thing, but Atsumu's words are really sharp.

"I know," you sigh. "My teacher tells me that all the time. So, I'm really trying. I'm sure there's at least something I can do."

"I definitely think that. Don't be so hard on yourself," Osamu comforts. "Have you been living alone here for a long time?"

You feel two pairs of eyes glued onto you waiting for your answer. You smile reflexively before your eyes trail to the empty plate and carefully choose your words. "Yea. Just me and my teacher. She's a grand witch...maybe if you wait here for a few days, you can meet her when she comes back from her conference."

"We—"

"We'll be gone tomorrow!" Atsumu snaps, staring into Osamu's eyes.

Osamu doesn't pay any mind to Atsumu, and puts an extra piece of dessert onto your plate.

"We have a long way to go. Atsumu's condition isn't getting better, so we can't stop in one place for long."

It makes you a little sad, because you were hoping to spend some more time with the twins, both of whom you have grown fond of. Osamu and his gentleness. And even Atsumu, despite his quick remarks and outbursts, adds a particular spice to your mundane life.

"Maybe we'll bring you with us," Osamu comments lightly, "'Tsumu, wouldn't that be nice?"

"She'll just be dead weight," Atsumu retorts. You wonder if he absolutely hates you. Is that why he is always so against you being next to Osamu?

Osamu puts an arm around you and blows on the shell of your ear. It tickles and you can feel his body enveloping you. "But she's so sweet," he tells Atsumu and whispers into your ear, "Aren't you?"

You find your wandering gaze looking into his half-lidded grey eyes. His face is right next to you, lips just hovering barely five centimeters away. The overwhelming presence of him is undeniably alluring. Your breaths become shallow as your heart rate speeds up with desire.

"I'm exhausted! 'Samu you too. We're going to bed!" Atsumu drops the silverware onto his plate and stands up. He comes around the table, muttering curses under his breath. Atsumu grabs Osamu by the wrist and drags him off towards the guest bedroom you have shown them before.

You didn't quite catch Atsumu's angry mutters, but you hear "slut" and "harlot" thrown around a few times. Were they directed at you? No, you're not like that, you tell yourself. Atsumu must have been thinking that you are trying to seduce his twin. After you clear out the table, you decide to clear up any misunderstanding.

You tip-toe down the hall to the guest bedroom prepared to knock when you hear muffled sounds coming from inside. You carefully press your ears to the crevice of the door and clamp a hand around your mouth upon hearing the stream of moans.

"'Samu, 'Samu please, ah—"

That's Atsumu? Your eyes are wide and still trying to process the shock of what you're hearing. You tell yourself you shouldn't be here. You should not be listening to whatever is happening behind the closed door, but you can't help it. Hearing Atsumu's moans makes you want to squirm.

You slightly jump when you hear a slap, followed with a pleasured groan. The sound is so clean it feels as though the phantom hands are touching your own heated skin.

Osamu's chuckle nearly makes your knees weak.

"Don't get cocky, if it were any other day ngh—, any other day, I would be the one pushing you into the mattress."

Slap. "Shut up, cute 'Tsumu. I like you being so needy for me like this. What do you want from me? Tell me."

"Fuck me, 'Samu."

"With pleasure."

The wood creaks loudly and you tell yourself, you really need to get out as you back away and try to quickly walk down the hall back to your bedroom.

You throw the door open and lock the door behind you with a click. With your eyes closed, you try to steady your breath and the building heat in your core. It's quiet. There's no noise coming from their room. But they are twins! 

You remind yourself that a witch is all-accepting and kind. There are so many circumstances beyond your understanding, judgement is not a part of your nature. And if what they are performing is wrong, what should you say about yourself? You peel off your clothes and step out of the soaked panty that is proof of your lust.

Pillows are fluffed and covers are pulled over your body. You try to sleep, but each time you are about to drift, Atsumu's cries of pleasure come back into your head. Your hand trails down your navel until the fingertips trace over your clit. Gathering some slick from your cunt, you drag it across the sensitive bud.

You shudder from the touch as images, constructed in your fantasy, cloud your mind. You imagine Atsumu's hands spreading your legs apart and Osamu's teasing words next to your ear. He would tell you to open wide and shove his cock down your throat. You suck on three of your fingers until lips wrap over the knuckles, your saliva pooling from hunger. And slip your fingers into your cunt easily, curling them against the plush walls.

"F-fuck me," you moan into your pillow.

With pleasure.

You quiver, clit pulsating, and your pussy juice dripping into your palm. The wash from the high soon takes you into sleep. All throughout the night, you squirm and feel the phantom sensation of being watched. Not just observed, but studied, by two pairs of glinting hungry eyes. You can almost imagine them on either side of the bed, trapping you into the mattress no matter which way you turn.

A few times the weird feelings almost pull you awake, but you don't dare crack an eye open to confirm your suspicions until the morning light begins to filter through the windows, rousing you from sleep. The air is filled with fragrant herbs and the sizzle of delicious brunch from someone awake before you.

No doubt, it's Osamu, because who else can it be? Atsumu? Please. The twins....

You climb out of bed and stretch your neck on the way to the washroom. Your bedroom door is open, but it's too early to notice that detail.

"Morning!" Osamu greets you from the kitchen. You find a fresh mug of coffee shoved into your hands from him.

You mumble thanks and sip at the brew while watching Osamu fry the eggs. Osamu looks to be deep in thought, probably thinking about something pleasant from the faint smile ghosting on his face. You feel a pang of guilt from both listening to their private lives, and also the strange feelings that maybe they heard your private life too—it's all your paranoia talking.

"You're so talented," you blurt out, fisting the fabric of your long skirt.

"Thanks, but better not let 'Tsumu hear ya, he gets jealous super easily."

Even if Atsumu hears, it's fine. You really mean both of them. Both of the twins both seem super talented as a duo; like they've been out there and seen the world. Meanwhile, you're still stuck here, without company. Would it be possible...if they simply stayed?

Osamu senses the words that are stuck in your mouth and answers them for you. "We're gonna be leaving right after breakfast. There's still lots of ground to cover today," he explains, plating the pancake before preparing to ladle a spoonful of batter for the next one.

"Do you have to leave?" you ask, almost pleading.

"It's cozy here and comfortable. We enjoy your company too, but we have to go. Your teacher would hate us, immensely, and on top of that...let's just say, we're always on the run."

"You say it like you two are fugitives or something."

Osamu chuckles and leans closer to you, hot breath flaming your cheeks, or maybe it's just the heat from the stove. A teasing grin pulls his cheeks up slightly as your eyes flicker over to see his lips spell out, "Maybe. Scared?"

Embarrassed, you take a defensive step back, squeaking and bumping into another body.

"MORNING!" Atsumu announces behind you. He's in good spirits and he has his hands on your waist to steady you; he sniffs your hair and smiles before letting you go. "I smell something delicious."

"Breakfast is ready," Osamu says, plating the pancakes. "Hungry 'Tsumu?"

"Tch." Atsumu shoves past you and knees Osamu, mood doing a complete 180. You're almost left like a fly on the wall as you watch the scene unfold.

Osamu is quick to catch his balance while keeping watch on the stove. "Not awake yet?" Osamu grins and passes him a plate of pancakes, essentially telling him to shut up and eat. "Who shoved a stick up your ass? Go eat."

"Fuck you."

"Hm."

Atsumu grumbles but digs into his food anyway. Osamu catches your amused expression in the corner and explains, "It's always like that between us. It's our...way of showing how much we care."

"I know." It's sort of endearing, the banter between the two brothers. Even if the world turns against them, no matter what the odds are, at least Miya Osamu will have Miya Atsumu, and Atsumu will have Osamu. Perhaps it's exactly that sort of bond the two share that you're envious of. Body and soul. Because if only you could have just an ounce of that sort of familiarity with another. But you're just an outsider without an invitation to join in.

While you're mulling over your thoughts, you don't catch the darkening gazes being exchanged between the twins. At some point, Atsmu's plate is already emptied and the wooden table is cleared while you're still lost in your mind. Osamu is fiddling with the metal tea strainer, bobbing it up and down to brew a mug of tea. He threads a cotton string in and out like it's a plaything.

"Do you really want to be with us?" Osamu asks nonchalantly. "'Tsumu and I were talking about it. If you do, maybe we can work something out."

"I just..." You feel like this is your final chance to tell them that you don't want them to go. None of the going around circle hinting that you have been doing. This is the moment to just tell it to them. If you miss this chance, you feel like you won't have another. And even though a pit pulls at your inwards telling you to reconsider, you're brave. "I just want to be together with you all, and help you cure Atsumu. My teacher is so talented, I'm sure she'll have a remedy."

They grin.

Osamu is a great cook, he can do that. Atsumu sometimes seems lazy, but he's super strong and quick to help too. And you can pick up all sorts of other tasks in the area! Maybe because they're so helpful, your teacher will even let them stay once Atsumu is cured. Maybe they can learn magic too! You have heard of warlocks who are powerful with spells too. And you can already imagine, the three of you, like a team, eventually going out into the world to fight demons and monsters and—

"Open wide," a sultry voice sounds next to you. Backing away automatically, you find Atsumu standing right behind you.

"W-wait," your voice shakes, stuck in your throat. "What are—"

His fingers reach for your mouth, prying it open. Before you can voice your distaste, a warm, metal ball gets shoved into your mouth, the thin chain quickly tangles into your hair. The faint traces of tea seep out of its small holes down your tongue and throat, while some spill out the corner of your mouth like trails of drool down your jawline.

Osamu smiles and wipes the liquid away with his thumb, relishing in how your widening eyes gape at him in confusion.

"Being together," he answers the question you wanted to ask, "is what you want isn't it?" He takes a spool of kitchen twine and begins to secure the tea strainer in your mouth. The thin cotton threads wrap around your head over and over again, tightening the steel against your tongue.

You shake your head and try to take another step away from the man you're beginning to become wary of, but the strong grip of Atsumu's hands on your shoulder prevents you from squirming at all. His fingers dig into your flesh, and when you turn to look at him you catch a glint in his eyes, glowering down at you.

"No, no, no, behave," he taunts you, "listen to 'Samu. He'll make you feel real good, trust me."

With the gag in your mouth, all you can let out are weak, warbling gargles from the back of your throat. Why are you doing this? You weren't like this before? Loud snorts flare out your nostrils from the fear screaming through your body.

Osamu comes back with a paring knife, examining the edge under the sunlight filtering in through the stained glass. He presses the cool blade along your cheek, dragging with the dull edge just enough so the sharp end doesn't cut your skin. You feel your knees growing weak and if not for Atsumu's hold on you, you would sink into a shuddering heap on the floor.

"You know, I think you might be the best meal yet," Osamu compliments, blade trailing down to your collarbone. The tip of the knife toys with the first button, pressing tension on the x-cross stitching. Snap. The first button pops off, dropping onto the wooden floor and rolling away to an inconspicuous corner. "I'll prep you well."

Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. The knife flicks again and all the buttons clatter on the floor before running away for refuge.

Atsumu has cleared the table already and you find yourself hoisted up and laid onto the surface like a slab of meat on a cutting board. The cold surface presses against the back of your shoulder and ass. Osamu ties your wrist together with a hemp rope and secures the other end around the table leg. He also secures your ankles to two other anchor points.

You're utterly exposed and ashamed at your body's display, mortified at how your body is reacting when you catch sight of Atsumu, his eyes dilated, looking at your slit that you know is drenched already. The rough texture of the rope presses painfully into your skin from how tight the bindings are. You can only let out gagged whines in complaint, chest rising up and down from the loud breaths.

"Can't do, love," Osamu chides, kissing the knot at your wrist, satisfied with the results. His fingertips trail down to cup your jaw and his thumb runs across the tea strainer. You close your eyes and groan at his touch. Osamu murmurs, "I won't let anything go to waste."

Atsumu is growing impatient at the sight of his twin treating you like the finest specimen ever. You're not the first one. You won't be the last one, but he still can't stand the sight of someone looking just like himself having first tastes while he's missing out himself. He wants to shove Osamu aside, but he knows that Osamu absolutely hates it when he ravages the meal when it's not ready.

Atsumu unzips his pants and lets his hardened, leaking cock spring free. You stare at Atsumu who is fixated on his own pleasure. His hand wraps around his cock and pumps the length up and down.

Osamu turns your head to look at himself instead. "Someone there is impatient, but let's not learn from him, okay? I want to take you slow, make sure you'll be ready. I don't want you stressed, you release too much cortisol and that toughens the meat."

Anything that goes through his hands...well, in short, all become part of his design.

His hand kneads your breast and toys with your nipple, circling and tugging on the tiny, erect bud.

"Relax," he whispers into your ear. "Just like you did last night."

You try to clamp your thighs shut from reflex. Immediately the resistance from the rope ties stop your movements. Osamu squeezes your thighs and pushes them apart once more.

"Right here isn't it, after hearing me fuck 'Tsumu..." Osamu's finger runs down the sides of your labia. "You just couldn't help touching yourself too huh?"

He knows. They know. You feel your cheeks burn at the realization.

"There's nothing embarrassing about it. If anyone should be, it should be us twins, " Osamu's fingers easily slip in, your pussy already dripping with arousal. "Oh woops, I shouldn't need to comfort you. You're clearly not shy."

Osamu's fingers are thick and long, able to reach far deeper than you ever can. Your tongue is still struggling against the gag while your saliva steeps the tea leaves trapped in the ball.

"Oi," Atsumu cuts in with annoyance. "I thought you said to not play with food. What the fuck are you doing, chef?"

Osamu stops his finger in you for a moment before dragging them out. You're trembling at the sudden emptiness and desire to fill the space immediately. The lack of stimulation is irritating and you are desperate.

Osamu walks up to Atsumu, bringing his drenched fingers covered in your slick to his lips for a taste. Before he can do so, Atsumu grabs Osamu's wrist and takes in those digits, sucking on them gingerly.

Osamu smiles and runs the other hand through Atsumu's hair.

"Patience is a virtue, 'Tsumu, I was just getting her fully prepared for you. I'm giving her all to you already, you couldn't even let me have a taste of her?"

Atsumu releases Osamu's fingers with a pop. "I never said I wasn't going to share," he mutters before pulling Osamu in for a kiss, passing the taste of you along their tongues.

Your body jostles as you finally get a visual matching what you heard last night. You feel your pussy leaking with more excitement, the arousal drips all the way down to your asshole. And the more you squirm, it's as though the rope ties become tighter and tighter, rubbing your skin raw. But even that pain is incomparable to the need to quell your fire.

Atsumu pulls away and presses one last kiss on Osamu's nose. "I always love what you serve, thank you 'Samu." Your heart rate rapidly speeds up as Atsumu comes towards you. He's positioned between your legs, both hands on your thighs, marveling at the display of your body. His hands feel hot.

Atsumu grins. "You probably didn't expect me to be the one taking you, huh?" He guides his cock to your entrance, the bulging tip prodding along your puffy lips. "Did you want Osamu to be the one fucking you?"

No? You want to argue, straining your head up slightly, but only tea-laced saliva drips out from the corners of your mouth.

"'Fuck me, 'Samu. Fuck me, please.' Is that what you heard? Is that what you wanted to say too?"

Your screams are muffled whimpers.

Osamu snorts off to the side, watching Atsumu do exactly what he accused Osamu earlier of: playing with his food. Hypocrite.

Atsumu glares at Osamu before turning his attention back to you. "You'll be begging for me, Atsumu, after I'm done with you."

He lines himself at your entrance and inches himself in, groaning at how your cunt is somehow just sucking him in. You're so warm and tight inside, wrapping perfectly around every part of him. He sits in you for a moment, just enjoying being blanketed by your muscles and chuckling how you tighten around him every now and then.

You whine, urging Atsumu to move a little.

"Okay, okay. Geez, and 'Samu says I'm impatient." Atsumu slowly draws his cock out and snaps his hips forward, the base of his balls slapping against your ass. He delights at how you squeeze your eyes shut and continues rocking into you at a comfortable pace.

Osamu enjoys standing off to the side for a while. He always liked watching Atsumu savor and delight the food he prepares. Atsumu always eats with such gusto. It should have always been that way, until the witch ruined everything. The curse, an experiment with the dark arts, should have never happened. Above all else, it should never have been on Atsumu. Osamu can only wonder if the reason they are subjected to this fate is because they are twins. Until a cure is found, Atsumu, his most beloved other, will have to replenish himself in this way.

A sharp pain rips through you and tears well up in your eyes. You feel Atsumu's cock suddenly begin to pulsate and grow in size. At first, you thought it was because you're clamping down on him too hard and will yourself to relax. But the cock, the thing, is certainly unnatural now. And between your tear-stained vision, you can just barely make out... Monster.

You begin to thrash wildly, head tossing side to side, back arched as much as you can in a futile escape attempt. Atsumu's claws rest on your hips while he pounds into you furiously. His groans, now deep growls, send vibrations that you can feel within your throbbing clit. You fear that you'll actually be ripped in half by the way Atsumu is thrusting into you. The engorged cockhead hits your cervix each time and his ball sack, even heavier, bowls and knocks against you.

Osamu unfolds his arms and comes over.

"It'll only hurt if you don't relax," he tells you, reaching out to press on your clit. "Just let him have his way."

"Go fuck her somewhere else," Atsumu snarls. His voice is warped and bellowing. Your mind is getting foggy as Osamu's fingers on your clit don't stop teasing the bud while having a petty talk with Atsumu. And Atsumu, ticked off by Osamu, picks up his speed.

"There we go, now that's beautiful," Osamu comments, taking his hand away and watching you unfurl in your pleasure. Your abused cunt is puffy when Atsumu pulls out, and you feel the thick liquid start to flow out when you take breaths.

"No, don't do that," Osamu chides, taking three fingers to gather the cum spilling out and stuffing it back in. "Better keep it all in. 'Tsumu isn't done with you yet."

Not yet? You can't even voice your thoughts except weakly shaking your head and moaning into the steel gag. In the moment, your stomach rumbles loudly.

"'Samu, she's hungry," Atsumu points out, rubbing your tummy. "You feed her and I'll stuff her."

Osamu ruffles Atsumu's long hair and gives his new, erected horns a teasing squeeze. Atsumu yelps at the touch. "'Samu!"

"Okay, okay," Osamu relents and stands next to your head. You see him take the paring knife again and slide the icy blade between the cotton ties and your hot cheek. A quick slice and you feel the pressure of the gag release. Osamu removes the tea strainer from your mouth and tosses it into the sink.

"Must have been so over-brewed, I apologize for that," he says. You know he doesn't mean it at all.

"Why?" you croak out. Your jaw and cheeks are sore from being held in position for so long. There's so many things you believe you can ask why about. Why they are prepping you like a meal, fucking you like a toy...Why Atsumu is the way he is. Why Osamu is not who you think he is either. Why you.

Despite Atsumu's grotesque figure, you're sure that you fear this twin more. Osamu's thoughts are so well-hidden behind his eyes; he never gives away what he's thinking or planning. You can only accept his decisions from the receiving end.

"Because of Atsumu," Osamu answers. Everything is for 'Tsumu. "I'll feed you."

Osamu cradles your head with both hands, his fingers tangled in your hair. He prods his cock against your lips. Feeling your resistance, he grips your hair tightly, painfully pulling on your scalp, and presses the tip of his cock to force your lips open. You nearly gag at the length entering your throat and your hands ball into tight fists. Your nose is buried in the base of his cock, pressing into his balls. Each breath you take is heavy with his musky, hot scent.

It's easy to focus on Osamu's cock fucking into your throat, leaving an unamused, monstrous twin off to the side preparing to turn your attention back to him by force.

Atsumu rubs himself against you, preparing to enter you again. You're sure that he has become even bigger. When the tip pushes through, your body attempts to fight the intrusion in self-preservation. The claws at your hips dig in and Atsumu all but pulls you onto his length like a sock. You scream around Osamu's cock, throat clenching around his thick length, and nearly black out from the stretch.

You never had anything this big in you before. Atsumu lifts you up slightly, his grasp becoming large enough to encircle around your whole waist. Your ankles are still tethered and tug on you, much to Atsumu's annoyance. He easily slices through the bondages with a sharp claw. Now free of restraints, Atsumu can cradle you more easily, finally pushing the last section into you. 

Crack!

You can’t cry while you're stuffed with Osamu’s cock, but tears stream endlessly from your eyes. You’re sure your pelvic floor is broken, completely forced apart in a futile attempt to accommodate Atsumu stuffing you beyond your physical capacity. Your hips give out as your two legs, bone out from their sockets, dangle grotesquely.

“Just focus on me,” Osamu wipes your tears away and continues to pump into you. But you cannot focus on the human object in your mouth when your whole lower half and inwards are broken, stretched or squashed.

"Hey look ‘Samu! It's bulging," Atsumu marvels at the imprint of his tip pushing your flesh out from the inside. “Look, my cock is saying ‘hello’.”

Atsumu excitement translates into messy thrusts, treating your body like a game. “Maybe I can even touch your dick through her!” 

Your whole body is numb, the brain shuts its pain signals off completely, and hormones pour through your bloodstream in overdrive. The broken climax spasms through your body like the last bits of a faltering system.

“Better hurry...she’s...she’s fading soon,” Osamu warns between his grunts. He clasps your head and spurts his seed into you. You mindlessly swallow every drop of him, letting the contents slowly flow down your throat. You can’t process anything nor recognize any of the murky images. Who are you? Where are you?

Your memory fades in and out as your eyesight drifts between black and white. You can’t do anything about how the monster is now on all fours over your body, unrecognizable as Atsumu. You don’t feel any fear towards this grotesque figure. You don’t register how his tongue licks your neck.

Your mouth is now empty but you can’t formulate syllables.

“I’m sorry,” you hear Osamu whisper before sharp fangs pierce into your jugular, digging in deeper and tearing a chunk out. Red sprays across your body in fast spurts, drenching Atsumu and covering Osamu. The teeth at your throat gnaw at the flesh, starved, tearing through the skin, fat, and tissues like a child crunching fruit. 

You can feel the droplets falling onto your face like fresh rain after a storm. You vaguely remember your teacher and her warning of strangers. She always reprimanded you and you wanted to make her proud. There will no longer be any chance of that now. You weren’t a good student, and only an utter failure.

Osamu waits for Atsumu to finish you off. Atsumu always gets messy at this point. Osamu tried to help Atsumu section his prey off by cutting and organizing the limbs and even attempted to debone the meal beforehand, but Atsumu has his preferences, and Osamu respects them. So, Osamu delegates cleaning duties to himself instead. 

You’re already beyond recognition when Osamu comes back with barrels of oil. All that is left is a kitchen stained with blood and a pile of bone with chewed connective tissue left. Atsumu sometimes eats the bones too, but not always.

“‘Tsumu, are you full now?” Osamu asks, reaching out to cradle his twin. Atsumu has now transformed back to the way he is supposed to be. Osamu threads his hand through Atsumu’s blonde hair and inhales his twin’s scent.

Atsumu doesn’t respond and tugs at Osamu’s collar, trailing down his arm to bring Osamu’s hand to his own cock.

Osamu grins and kisses the top of Atsumu’s head. “Do you want to fuck me ‘Tsumu? I know you like to, after your meals.”

Atsumu whines and nips at Osamu’s jaw, pushing the twin down on the blood-stained floor.

“Okay, okay.” Osamu unzips and pulls down his pants before crawling onto all fours.

Atsumu’s hand cups Osamu’s ass and pries the cheeks open before curiously fingering at the specimen plugging Osamu’s hole. Atsumu holds onto the base and turns the object, before laughing.

“‘Samu, what is this you have in your ass,” Atsumu teases. “I like this presentation.”

This time, Osamu is the one embarrassed. “Last meal, it hurt like hell. So...I wanted to prepare a little.”

“With an egg holder?” Atsumu cackles again, fiddling with the ceramic object. “Should’ve just told me ‘Samu, I could never bear to hurt you.”

Atsumu holds onto the base and slowly pulls the object out before tossing it aside. He smiles and teases Osamu’s enlarged hole that’s opening and closing around nothing. Gathering up some saliva, he spits onto Osamu’s asshole before lining his cock at the rim and slowly pushing in.

Along with the curse comes a near insatiable lust. Atsumu knows that if he doesn’t fulfill his need to fuck or be fucked, he will snap. He doesn’t really care who he kills during a frenzy of that sort, but it’s too risky to get Osamu caught up in the collateral.

The witch that wanted to create the perfect weapon, failed. She failed because she underestimated the twins’ bonds for each other. She failed because the twins discovered that witches excrete a very special hormone in their body after climax, and it is exactly that substance that is slowly curing Atsumu. With every witch eaten and absorbed, Atsumu is healing and gaining magical powers. He is even capable of passing those essences to Osamu. One day, everything will be the way it's supposed to be.

Osamu plays with a few strands of Atsumu’s hair. Atsumu’s softened cock still buried inside of him. Atsumu has his jaw resting on Osamu’s shoulder.

“You make me feel so good,” Atsumu sighs, enjoying the quiet moments after his high.

“And what about her?” Osamu asks, gesturing to the table where your remains are still at.

“She made me feel good too. The best one yet, but don’t be jealous.”

“Come on, let’s clean up and get out of here.”

After washing their bodies and changing into clean clothes, Atsumu and Osamu are ready to say goodbye to the cottage they have overstayed their welcomes at.

"Let's go 'Samu, we're already behind." Atsumu finishes dumping the last bucket of oil along the edges of the room.

The clamor of boots stride across the creaking wood. As though with the passing of its owner, the cottage itself has lost the will to live.

"Coming," Osamu calls back, walking past the makeshift funeral pyre for you. He notices a flash on the ground and bends down to pick up a button.

"'Samu! Get the fuck out or I'll burn ya down too!"

"Yea, yea."

Osamu drops the button into his shirt pocket and joins his twin outside. Atsumu strikes a matchstick and tosses the small flame into the cottage. Fire meets oil and spreads in an instance, engulfing the cottage in an angry blend of orange and red, devouring all contents and remains within. The smell of scorched wood reaches the twins who are looking at the sight from a distance.

"She was good," Atsumu comments, looking at his twin unsure about what Osamu's grey eyes are thinking about. Atsumu realizes that he didn't specify what good exactly means. But it doesn't seem like Osamu is paying much attention. Is Osamu thinking about you? Is he unhappy? Does he regret what happened to you? Although what's done is done already, if time can go back, would Osamu choose? You or Atsumu?

Osamu slips his hand into Atsumu's, erasing the unspoken worries away. He gently leads Atsumu onto the trail, leaving the burning cottage behind.

"Stop thinking such nonsense," Osamu mutters, squeezing Atsumu's hand. No matter what happens, Atsumu will always come first. His needs, his desires. That's what it means for Osamu to love Atsumu. Even though the rest of the world may not understand the relationship the twins share, calling it depraved and disgusting, it's still selfless on their part. What sin is there to honestly love? What sin is there to try and save his loved ones?

While Osamu admits to himself that he does feel a deep attraction to you and knows that Atsumu feels the same pull as well, there's nothing that can be done about Atsumu's condition. But it's not as though you are completely gone. Your essences and core are within both twins, being absorbed as one with their bodies and soul. You'll forever be with them in that way, even if you no longer have any sentient memory of it.

Osamu fiddles the button in his pocket; there's still a physical reminder of you in that tiny form.

It must be about a twenty-minute trek from the burning site. Although the flames are already far from eyesight, the scorching smell and embers still drift over. The twins pick up their pace, eager to exit the forest before nightfall and make it to the next destination. On the way, they pass by the tree trunk with a wanted poster.

"They never get my best angles!" Atsumu complains, ripping a wanted poster that is nailed to the tree trunk.

"It's not like you have a good angle, ‘Tsumu."

"Shut it, we look the same ‘Samu. You're just calling yourself ugly too!"

Osamu shrugs and continues his trek down the main trail. Atsumu huffs, tearing the parchment into indistinguishable pieces before throwing the shreds up into the air like confetti.

"Wait up!"

Osamu stops in his tracks. "Hurry up, loser. We still have a long way to go."

Atsumu takes a few wide strides and swings his arm around his twin's shoulder. Behind them, a very light drizzle falls from the sky.

[fanficwrit3r]

#2 fluff for John x reader? 💜

Thank you for being my first request! Hope you enjoy it! :) I am getting back into the swing of things when it comes to writing.

To make a request, you can find prompts here and requesting guidelines here.

Main Masterlist

John Shelby x Reader Fluff Prompt #2

Prompt: “What? I can’t cook you dinner?”

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 765

-------------------

You knew something was different the instant you walked through the front door. There was not a single sound. You had been spending the day out shopping for the family and gathering what everyone would need for the week. John’s children were growing faster than weeds and were usually not too careful when playing outside, so the new fabric was almost always needed for repairs. But, when you entered the house this time, it was silent.

Suspicious, you shrugged off your coat, setting down the bags containing the day's shopping. “Hello?” You called cautiously into the house, making your footsteps light as you moved. It hadn’t happened yet, but it was always a concern that John’s work could attract unfavorable guests into your home.

“Ow- fuckin hell!” John’s voice could be heard shouting from the kitchen. You froze, slowing your pace even more as you heard the sounds of things banging around. “Fuckin- stop doing that!” John exclaimed again, followed by a loud crash. The worst possibilities were running through your mind as to what could possibly be going on. There could be intruders, the children could be hurt or running crazy… the possibilities were endless.

Grabbing a candlestick as a weapon and swallowing your fear, you rushed into the kitchen. You swung the door open, holding the candlestick high, ready to strike at whoever had invaded your home. But, all you found was a mess of food on the floor, the table covered in various ingredients, and John trying to put out a fire in a pan.

“Oh, bloody hell-” You sighed, rushing over and putting out the fire with ease. You nearly slipped on tomato sauce on the floor, your tan-colored shoes now stained red. It took the work of both you and John, but the chaos quickly settled. The kitchen was a complete and utter mess. Nothing had been left untouched it seemed; even the clean spoons hanging above the sink.

“Surprise.” John gave you a large grin, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close. He tried to kiss you to distract you from the absolute disaster that was your kitchen. You pulled away before he could plant a kiss on your lips.

“Mind explaining just what happened here?” You asked in near disbelief. Somehow, someway, one of your best cooking pots had a hole burned in it. John laughed nervously, running his hand through his hair.

“What? I can’t cook you dinner?” He smirked, starting to sort through some of the ingredients that had been left on the table. In trying to organize, he just seemed to make a bigger mess.

“Looks like you were trying to burn the house down.” You remark, crossing your arms over your chest. Suddenly, you remembered why everything had seemed so odd to you in the first place. “Where are the kids? It’s unusual for it to be this quiet.”

“I sent them to Aunt Pol’s for the night,” John answered, grabbing the trash can and just throwing away all the burnt and inedible food he had created. “I was going to cook you a romantic dinner, but I see that has failed. Everything just started burnin’ and going to shit.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart lighten at the gesture. John was usually out late working or drinking, which left all the cooking to you. “Did you manage to create anything that’s edible?” You ask him with a hint of teasing in your voice.

John chuckled at that, surveying the damage he had done. “Well, let’s see… salad still looks good. Didn’t fuck that one up.” He laughed, looking into the salad bowl to make sure nothing had magically appeared to ruin it. “Don’t think anything I actually had to cook is gonna pass the test.”

You shook your head, a smile growing on your lips as you walked back over to John. You placed a gentle kiss on his soft lips, wrapping your arms around him. “We can go out to eat tonight then… but you are cleaning this mess yourself. And buy me new shoes.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, love.” John pulled you close by your waist, a smirk on his lips before he kissed you with some passion. Pulling apart slowly, he rested his forehead against yours, speaking in a whisper. “Or… we could go upstairs and just forget dinner.”

“In your bloody dreams.” You pause before kissing him, moving out of his arms in a slow and teasing manner. You turned your head, giving him a wink. “You’ll at least be buying me dinner first.”

[spidersmiceandeverythingnice]

CU MENTIONED HIS CHARIOT AGAIN

Nasu I am outside your house banging pots and pans together and demanding the know about Rider Cu

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x14)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 14: It’s Not What It Looks Like

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: ehehehehehe

Word Count: my anxiety was through the roof this time. and that too on the thing that I know was not achievable. But noooo my boss just wants results. Well, fuck you and your boss who gave me anxiety. You will know the pain of these tears soon.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The familiar sports car shining in its red shade came to a halt right outside the door for Tony to get out and greet the lone camera covering him. "How's it going fellas?" He seemed comparatively chirpier than the last few days as he whistled his way to the boot of the trunk to take out five boxes of large pizzas along with a whole bag filled with soda and side dishes. "It's pizza party today, my lovely unicorn," he announced to the camera person; mostly because there was no one else in his vicinity.

Tony: *standing next to his car* I have come realise that I have been a bit hard on my team because of the anxiety I've been feeling ever since Y/N disappeared from right in front of me. Like last Monday. *camera switches to the video recording of Last Monday* Tony is seen in the kitchenette making detox juice for himself after a workout. Sam comes and grabs the coffee pot, looking around for a mug to pour himself some. The only mug hanging on the stand is your Brooklyn Nine-Nine themed one. "Well," he mutters to himself, "no one's using this for a while." Just as he finishes the sentence, Tony's hand slips on the juicer switch and the green spill out everywhere in the space, making Sam yell for help. "You are excluded from my will," Tony announces while looking dead into Sam's eyes before pouring the coffee from his pot into the sink and walking away. *back to present* Tony: Pepper says I went overboard but Sam didn't have to say that now did he. *makes a cringe face* Anyways. This is my way of showing them that I have made peace with the situation for now and that I trust our alien friends to get my daughter back to me asap.

Tony walked into the facility to be greeted by dead silence. "Did I miss something?" he wondered out loud for the camera while looking around the lobby and the waiting area. "I am pretty sure we were not supposed to go out anywhere thanks to that stubborn virus."  He walked up the elevator to be greeted by Clint coming back from the security room with his self-regulated watch, carrying two glasses of iced Americanos- one of which he offered Tony. "Pizza-" he seemed happy to see the boxes, taking the bag from Tony- "what's the occasion? Are you firing one of us? Is there a budget cut because of the 'Rona? In that case, just know that I spot a person without a mask from miles. And I can end them right there." Tony pressed the button for the lounge and waited for the camera to record his wink and smile till the doors closed to let the other handy camera in the elevator- following Clint- take over. Clint did a survey of the bag and was quite content with the contents. Tony, still with his glasses on, walked his usual walk that displayed well that he owned the place. "No one's getting fired unless they are eating my choco-chip ice cream." "You have set the bar pretty low." "It's pretty much up to the expectations I have from you all."

Clint shrugged and went on to agree with him, walking behind the Iron Man as the elevator dinged. The camera followed Clint and Tony out to film the scene unfolding in the Lounge. Manoeuvring away from their shoulders, the camera caught that deadpan silence in the room filled with nearly every Avenger staring at the screen with the seriousness of defusing a bomb that may go off any time. Peter was hiding under Scott's arm, peeping at the screen through his hands while Scott was biting his nails, nervousness dripping from his forehead. Wanda held Vision's hand while she muttered something under her breath- most probably a chant. Sam seemed to have forgotten he was watering the plants for the water-can was already empty and yet he still went on to pour the contents while his eyes were glued to the screen. Bucky's hands were busy brushing Zuko's fur- while the pupper took this opportunity to lay in his lap and snooze- monotonously, his gaze too stuck on the screen. "Come on, come on. Do it," Steve muttered while on the edge of his seat on the sofa. The camera swivelled back to Clint and Tony- both of whom had confused looks on their faces by now. Both of them turned to the screen in sync to witness what exactly was it that had all of them in such a grim state. And it was something like this.

On the screen was a barely lit space that seemed like it could have been a small closet under somebody's staircase. In that barely lit space, you could be seen from your abdomen up. There you were, panting, sweating, your hair a literal mess, your bra strap dangling out of your tank top's straps. "Again," you panted, wiping the sweat beads from your forehead while positioning your hands on a surface where the camera was seemingly recording you from. And in that same dim light, a movement was discovered behind you. That movement was of the exposed muscles and skin that the viewers had never seen in their daily life. Well, neither had they seen that very person pant and sweat like this before as well. Green eyes shined in that bare light, as the familiar face came out from the shadows to apparently hover just above your shoulder. One pale hand was used to remove those clammy hair strands coming in his way before both arms mimicked your position and came to rest on either side of your arms. "Are you sure?" Loki's voice, breathless and heavy, questioned you with sincerity while his body did not budge from behind you. You nodded. "Again." The frame caught you adjusting your hips to position your butt right with his front- something that was not covered by the camera. He towered over you, adjusting to your height while grounded his arms on the surface. "Okay then," he whispered, taking one arm to move your butt a little closer to your frame before going back to anchor himself to the surface, "here we go."

The iced Americanos created a crackle and bang louder than expected- thanks to the already looming silence- when they hit the floor. The pizza box and other snacks? Not so much. Every other person jumped where they were to turn and watch the colours from Tony and Clint's faces drain away by the second, their jaws unhinged, their hearts at a pause and their lungs just no longer working. Steve- the only one in the room to have deciphered what had just gone down in those Dad brains- got up and raised his arms till his chest as of sign of caution. "It's not what you think. Tony, Clint it's not-" The elevator dinged and out came Natasha and Bruce with four feet long bags of Cheetos and popcorn, the former quite excited to rush out into the Lounge. "We found the snacks from the pantry! Did we miss something? Did they put it in yet?" Steve winced just as Bruce blurted out those words. Tony was already heaving audibly, no air going into his lungs as he nearly collapsed on the floor if not for Natasha holding him up like she was used to it. Clint, on the other hand, had 'disgusted' written all over his face, judging every single person in the room before storming out. "OH MY GOD!!!! OH MY GAAAAA~" the screams could be heard from outside while the camera zoomed in on Natasha's face- already bored and tired.

Natasha: If they had more than one working brain cell they wouldn't have fought like twelve-year-olds in the middle of an airport and then stopped talking for a whole year. *camera pans in on her face* *faces the camera* And to think they can procreate. .

One Hour Ago Eight Hours Earlier In A Galaxy Far Away One of the camera drones stepped over a stone wall and passed over a dozen guards, buzzing its best to enter the first window it could find. Passing over ogres guarding the small galleries, another drone accompanied the first one down the maze of hallways, parting at the stairway leading down to the dungeons and up to the meeting room. The way to the dungeons was one dark path that only lit up at the very end of the hallway- few lamps burning with constant flickers. The space was divided into walls and covered with iron bars. A few of these cells were empty while others housed creatures who are only spoken about with the name of their shadows. In the last cell was a shadow that seemed similar to that of a human sleeping under the lone ragged excuse of a blanket. If one tried to focus, they could hear light snores coming out of that creature too. The drone came to rest upon one of the iron bars, sending in the live feed to the cameraman behind this whole shebang. The other fly had already found the 'throne room'. The throne- as one could make out with the setting of the hall- was made out of a tree trunk burned till all that was left was an ash-covered dead piece looking up at the sky. The seat was carved right through the middle with one of the ashened branches housing a black adder with red eyes. And in the throne sat the one person no one wanted to see. "Aellae," you mumbled in the most derogatory sense, your eyes wanting to hurt her there and then through the screen in Javier's hand. And lo! Right then the God stepped in the frame, standing in front of the witch with his usual demeanour. Well, that's what it looked like. "Why do you have to bow to her?" You whispered at him a bit viciously. White entered the frame that was recording your end. Looking at the screen he furrowed his brows and wondered how you could tell that. "He stands straight," you stressed, already sensing the question from White, "and right now he is not. And he does not not stand straight for anyone." "I see you have found yourself a fine pair of pets on your galactic travels, my love," you and White hear Aellae from the screen, bringing your attention back to her. "Just a bunch of humans and a kitten to entertain me on my way," he chuckled and shrugged a little, that Asgardian charm resurfacing in his smile. Aellae smirked at him. "On your way to where?" The question had a hint of anger even when she added a wave of curiosity, something that was easy to catch of the one who was listening to layers in her voice. Loki waved his hands in the air. "You know how it is for me. Here and there, always on the move. A nomad exploring the universe." "No more," she announced, her head high, her stare stern, "now you stay with me. You will be my advisor in the day, guiding my army to every corner of this world, with nothing to spare." She got up from her throne to walk an inhumanly seductive gait to reach the God and place her finger under his chin. "And in the night, you shall be my pacifier," she whispered, making your whole face cringe for the camera to zoom into it. "You shall satiate all my bedly desires till I the very. last. drop." Something cracked on the other side, making Javier and White turn in every direction to look at the source of the sound. Lulu too was a bit confused. You were the only person not taking your eyes away from the screen.

You: I swear to God if she was not such a bitch, I would have asked her out. Would have even gone to lengths of being her *makes air quotes* bedfellow if she was not such a fucking bitch?? Javier: *turns the camera to himself with the dazed look on his face* *signs for the camera* I am supportive and all in for this but is now really a good time for her to be questioning her sexuality? When we can literally die for just breathing wrong???

"Now," Aellae snapped everyone back to the screen, "as for those pets of yours, I'll send someone to take care of them. They are just hindrance if nothing more." "Aellae," Loki's honey laden voice was now implying a sternness. "What." "They are not to be given enough importance to be-" Loki sighed and closed his eyes- "taken care of." "All the more fun to watch them die in misery." Her eyes widened with excitement at the thought of murder. "Especially that Midgardian who is living in the illusion of being your friend." Loki's jaw tightened. "If you decide to harm h-them, I will not aid you in your irrational quests, Aellae. Going after those weaklings proves that you are still the reckless stubborn creature that I left you." There wasn't an exclamation of surprise on her face but rather that particular smirk of the devil who has walked its prey right into its trap. "So, she does mean something to you." Loki kept mum. "Guards!" she yelled for the two orcs standing outside, "bring me the head of the woman!" "Aellae, stop," he begged casually. "Enough humour." "And do whatever with the rest of her!" she ordered with her eyes piercing through Loki's soul.

The next thing you know, the last fly drone that got lost on the middle floor somewhere was recording two orcs throwing Loki into a room before shutting the door behind him. His grunts echoed through the room with no windows. All around him were walls coloured in a dusty cream shade, lamps lining up the four walls with one dressing table sitting with one of the four walls, housing heavy chains, the purpose of which Loki did not want to know. He huffed as he stood up, looking at the door before letting his gaze land on those shackles on his wrist that now seemed permanent. The tension on his jaw did not go unnoticed by the tiny roommate before he slammed those bracelets- along with his wrist- into the wall in pure animalistic rage.

Witch's Den- Down the Hall Two orcs stood guard to the entrance coming to the floor via the stairs. One of them seemed to be snoozing with all the pressure sitting on his nose and brows while the other one was trying to drive away this one stubborn fly that kept buzzing around its head. Eventually reaching the threshold of irritation, he followed the fly out towards the stairs, his curved sword being swung into the air to strike the buzzing creature; only to be taken by surprise with a bright source of light. The next thing the fly was recording was the other orc waking up to the clunk of a sword dropping, this one finding gasping and taking an attack position before the camera went dark.

But not for long.

The fly in Loki's room recorded the God catching the sounds outside while he was in the middle of surveying the whole room for an escape route. The grunts and gasps of orcs outside have stopped, making him all the more cautious to the steps that steadily approach the door. He took one of the chains in his hand, with calculated steps, walked towards the door to catch whatever tried to come in next. With the sound of a heavy key twisted inside the keyhole, the wheels turned and the door opened a smidge to let someone in. Without losing even a second, Loki wound the chain around your neck from behind you, nearly choking you. "Not now, dammit!" you choked, trying to free yourself from the hold. "Y/N?" the surprise stirring along with confusion was a new shade on Loki that you would have appreciated any other day. "Wha-what are you doing here?" That God wasn't even able to squeak on realising it was you. The chains came off as fast as they had gone around your neck, giving you room to breathe and widen your eyes in horror. "No! No no no no noooo!!"  You ran towards the door as it clunk shut, leaving you to pull at it with all your might to no avail. "The door opens from outside," you groaned with a sob, thumping your head on it with low winces before a tiny realisation hit you hard enough to stop and look back at Loki. "Ow!" He yelled at the hard slap that came for his back, looking at you in simmering confusion. "You could've waited to choke me after we got out, you fucking IDIOT!" The slaps and punches got more vigorous with each word until Loki had to gab your hands with his to stop you from wasting your energy anymore. "And what makes you think coming here was a good idea?"  He struggled to keep your writhing form from hurting itself more than him. You were ready to kick him in his shins and you would have absolutely done that if Loki had not shoved you into the wall with him towering over you to restrict any movement of your limbs. The little buzzing drone came to sit over Loki's arm and capture the frame where both of you were flaming with anger and still trying to breathe enough to keep that rage alive. "I'd already told you were on your own," he grunted, his eyes drilling through your soul. "And I'd already told you I am a psychology major. I can see the denial routine from miles away, you stupid blob of six-foot galaxy brain! You think I haven't sacrificed myself to a professor for the sake of my friends?" "...what? Wait. What do mean by sacri-" "Now get off me and find us a way out of here." You pushed him back. Well, at least you thought you did. But he pushed closer to you, shooting emotions of mild surprise in your eyes before you caught yourself slipping. Fortunately, this little drone caught everything in 4K. From the veins popping in Loki's neck to the parted lips and wavering gaze of yours. "This world is not a joke, Y/N. There was a reason you were left behind. And you have done the exact opposite of that which is supposed to keep you alive." It felt as if Loki had to restrain from spilling that anger over the rim. To make that hypothesis true, he punched the wall to dissipate this emotion he did not want to be running him. And there he stood, his head hanging above you in defeat, his eyes closed and his breath wavering. "I was supposed to send you home safe," he was barely able to mutter. The drone focused on your hands coming around his torso, your arms taking as much of his frame in a hug as possible as you softly patted his back and soothed him. Loki's body twitched a little at this new touch, still like a stone before giving in with every wave of your soothing touch. "You're family, idiot. I'm not gonna leave you behind with some crazy bitch that isn't me?" A chuckle resonated through you and then the room. The next moment when you looked at him, he was looking lighter. "Now come on, use your muscles and drill through one of these walls." Raising his good brow, he judged you while tapping his fist casually on the wall. "What exactly do you take me for?" "A cheesy brooder who's all soft inside," you commented without skipping a beat, looking around to find some kind of a loophole in this square room. "Say that outside these walls and watch what this brooder does to you." "Sounds like an invitation," you sang under your breath, tapping the walls. It took a while. A while that was long enough for you to move around the room to come and sit on the lone drawer by the wall, feeling the heat of the room bursting out the sweat in your skin, other than turning your brain into an irritated mush. You groaned while taking off your top and throwing it on the floor. You wanted to cry out loud to blow off some of the unbearable heat but stopped short at the sight of that overcoat coming off. Followed by that black shirt. Muscles. No matter how he moved or what he did, his back lived in that moment to tease you with those muscles. And what was that? Sparkles? No, sweat, glistening in the dim light. Wait, why was it glisten- You looked around and realised the lamps were at their wick's end. "Same," you sighed as you looked back at Loki's back, only to find him turned around to face you. "Oh, Gods!" you jumped down from the drawer with quite the surprise in your eyes. "This is your first time seeing me shirtless?" It almost felt like he was genuinely curious. "What? No! I don't know. That wasn't the-look!" You signalled him to come closer and let your hand hang right above the drawer's top that touched the two corners of the wall. Loki mirrored you and realised it instantly. "That's a cold breeze." He looked at you with pupils expanding wide in that dim lighting. Taking over from there, he tried his best to get a look as to which section of the wall it was coming from. "There's an opening-" he immediately shifted his position to standing parallel to the length of the wall, his hands grounded on the varnished top- "we will have to either pull it-" he tried his best but the structure did not budge- "or push it towards the opening in that section." You got to work as well, standing next to him and giving your end of the small corner a good push that only ended up in failed grunts. "Okay, let's try another way," you inhaled, "I'll push the top, you be the bottom."

The drone was sitting on the drawer now, capturing all those failed attempts from every angle both of you thought possible before you nearly collapsed due to lack of air. "We're are clearly doing something wrong here," Loki huffed, his puffed-up chest, the centre of the camera's frame. You flipped your wet hair to show your tired face in the lone lamp that burned in the room. "There weren't any more of those BDSM chains inside it, were there?" Loki's breathing stopped for a moment. You looked at him for an answer. Both of you moved to open the drawers. The drone captured the disappointment in your own IQ in high definition before watching you both taking them out with nothing but pure spite. "Take a break, I'll try-" "No," you shook your head and wiped the forehead sweat, "let's do it together." Loki wanted you to stop but that you gave him was more than adequate to let anyone know you won't listen right now. "This time you stand behind me and let's use the wall behind as a supp....ort? Wait how is this room looking shorter?" You were looking around in dazed confusion while Loki closed his eyes. "It's not a normal room. Those two walls will keep closing in until..." He didn't have to say more. "Well, then what are we waiting for?" the drop of panic in your high pitched voice was evident as you positioned yourself- putting your palms on the edge. "Come on." Loki came to stand behind you, copying your position, just a bit more charismatically- and with a bit more skin- till he felt your hair come into his mouth. "One, two, three!" This time the push did budge the drawer chest a bit but your strength had been used for that movement of a centimetre. Your breaths almost felt like your lungs were on the verge of crying. "Again," you panted, wiping the sweat beads from your forehead while positioning your hands on a surface where the drone was seemingly recording you from. Loki looked at your back, clearly concerned. This time he used his hand to remove those clammy hair strands coming in his way before both arms mimicked your position and came to rest on either side of your arms. "Are you sure?" Loki's voice, breathless and heavy, questioned you with sincerity while his body did not budge from behind you. You nodded. "Again." The frame caught you adjusting your hips to position your butt right with his front- something that was not covered by the camera. He towered over you, adjusting to your height while grounded his arms on the surface. "Okay then," he whispered, taking one arm to move your butt a little closer to your frame before going back to anchor himself to the surface, "here we go." Both of you had your eyes stuck on the wall with a fiery gaze and an aura that would have burned this place to the ground. His muscles tried to take all that you could not. And just when the grunts were turning into screams, the drawer started to move from its place with a screeching noise. As soon as Loki noticed a decent enough opening in the wall to your and his side, he pushed you and himself in through the opening before the death walls came for your limbs. The drone fly followed. Both of you rolled through what seemed like a tunnel slide through the walls for a minute till that just did not seem to end. It did end though. It ended in a noisy fall of thuds and groans- you on top of him. "You okay?" you winced through your broken voice, not moving a muscle for the fear of breaking something. Also because it was awkward lying over him on your stomach. Loki replied with a quick wince. A ruffle came from next to you. Followed by a lazy groan.  Your head turned to the noise. So did Loki's.  "You two could have easily waited for another hour." The drone swerved around to bonk into the one that was already there, covering the dungeons. There under the rugged blanket, laid Carol Danvers, looking at the two of you with sleepy eyes. Neither of you knew what to say. She looked at her watch and put her head inside the blanket again. "Five more minutes."

[chimchimsauce]

XS (I - Spitfire)

“Give me just a little bit MORE”

Being the son of the largest gang in the country, Kim Taehyung might as well be a prince. He is more powerful than any one man should be and is not afraid to get rid of anything - or anyone that gets in his way.

So when a man is unable to pay back the gigantic loan he owes Taehyung, the heir is all too happy to take his life. Moments away from pulling the trigger, a girl more beautiful than he’s ever seen bursts in and offers her life for her father’s. Taehyung knows right away that he wants her.

And Taehyung gets everything he wants.

Prologue

Chapter One - Spitfire

The house is suspiciously quiet as YN's uber pulls up to her driveway. Usually, her father would be outside gardening or there would be the joyful barking of her childhood dog as she runs around the yard.

But everything is dead silent. Even the air seems still, almost as if Mother Nature herself is holding her breath. No birds chirp and no wind rustles through the leaves.

Pure silence.

"Is everything okay?" the uber driver asks her.

YN's hands grab tightly to the seatbelt as she whips away from the window, startled by the man's voice.

"What?" she asks, "Ah, yeah, everything's fine. It's just a little quiet is all."

YN and her family have never had much, evident by the run-down state of their small house, but her home has always been filled with love and support. Just this morning her mother had called her before her final exam to wish her luck and say how excited she was for her to come home for summer break. YN fully expected her parents to be waiting for her on the doorstep with big smiles and open arms.

A tingle of fear snakes down her body. What if something is wrong?

She opens her purse and pulls out her phone to switch it off of airplane mode. Unfortunately, it dies before she can open her messages. She's received over twenty from her mother which only deepens the feeling that something is truly, incredibly wrong.

Taking a breath and praying that her intuition is wrong, YN steps out of the car and grabs her two suitcases, thanking her driver and sending him on his way.

The sound of wheels on concrete is much louder than it should be. YN ignores the tremble of her hand as she raises a finger to press the doorbell. Her dog barks, but the noise is cut off by a loud bang that scares YN out of her skin.

No one comes to answer the door. YN's heart is beating so quickly that she's afraid that she'll pass out. What should she do? Her phone is dead, so she can't call the authorities or another uber. Maybe she's just being ridiculous. Maybe everything is okay after all.

Clinging onto this tiny shred of hope, YN twists the doorknob, trying not to think about the fact that her parents never leave it unlocked. When she steps inside, luggage in tow, everything is quiet.

"Mom? Dad?" she calls out hesitantly.

"YN!" her mother's voice calls out, "Run!"

Before YN can respond, there's a loud bang - a gunshot and the horrid sound of her mother's screaming. Ignoring her warning, YN drops her bag and books it into the kitchen, heart racing and thoughts scattered.

When she arrives in the small kitchen, YN's voice gets caught in her throat as she looks at the scene before her. The room has been trashed completely. Their pots and pans have been strewn about and the cabinet doors have been ripped from their hinges and tossed away. But worse of all, in the middle of the chaos is her parents, tied to chairs and bruised and bloody. Her mother's hair has been mused into a bird's next and tear tracks streak down her face. Her father is in even worse condition, bleeding from several cuts along his face and body.

Three strangers stand around them, two with emotionless faces and knives. The third stands in front of YN's poor father, shoving a gun between his teeth with a cruel glint in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" YN shrieks, ignoring her mother's panicked expression.

Without thinking, YN launches herself at the man with the gun, taking everyone by surprise.

"Boss!" one of the other criminals calls out.

YN's mother starts screaming again as the man approaches YN, but the college student pays it no mind, too focused on wrestling the gun out of this man's hands. She straddles his hips, trying to use her weight to hold him down long enough for her to grab the weapon.

While desperation and fear pour from every pore of YN's skin, the man under her seems rather amused. YN hasn't looked at his face nor does she care too. Something tells her that if she did, she'd be completely petrified.

YN's efforts prove to be fruitless. After a few moments of struggling, YN is ripped away from the armed man by one of his henchmen, kicking and screaming.

"Well aren't you a little spitfire?" the man she'd been fighting says, rising elegantly and brushing off his suit.

A cocky smile plays on his lips, but there's a hint of something sinister in his gaze that has YN breaking out in a cold sweat. If he wasn't so terrifying, he might have been handsome with this tall stature and long hair, perfectly swept above his brows to reveal a face that belongs on a magazine cover.

"Honestly," he says, turning once more to YN's father, "Why didn't you tell me your daughter was coming home? I would have put together a welcome party better than this."

He chuckles, a deep sound that shows just how bemused he is.

"Ah well," he continues, "But maybe you'll be more cooperative now that your baby girl is here."

He snaps his fingers and the man that's holding her brings a knife to YN's throat, barely a hair's breadth away from cutting her.

"NO!" her parents shout out, fear in their eyes.

The man steps towards YN. his gun seeming to gleam in the light. He taps it against her face in a way that's nearly affectionate, using the cold metal to outline her facial features. YN's eyes are blown wide with fright, her pupils dilated and her breaths short.

"You're rather pretty, aren't you, YN?" he says, his voice sending chills down her spine.

He's stopping his tracing and now holds the gun flush against her forehead, a grin on his face.

"How do you," she says, licking her lips and trying desperately hard not to pee herself, "Know my name?"

The man cocks his head to the side and takes a step back, sticking his gun in the waistband of his shorts and taking a seat in one of the empty kitchen chairs, straddling it backward.

"Oh?" he asks, looking at her father again "You didn't tell her?"

Her father stays silent, refusing to look at the man speaking to him.

YN can tell by the way his jaw tightens that he doesn't like being ignored. Surprisingly, he doesn't blow up. YN fears something worse will happen.

"Well, since your dear old dad won't tell you what he's gotten himself into, I shall illuminate you. You see, he came to me when you got accepted into that stuck up school you attend, crying that he couldn't afford your tuition," he leans forward over the back of the chair to smile at YN, much too happy for the situation they're in, "So, of course I helped him. I am rather benevolent."

"But I got a scholarship!" YN protests, "You've got the wrong people!"

At her outburst, the man laughs loudly, leaning back in his chair and enjoying himself so much that hatred bubbles in YN's stomach, red hot and violent.

"You're adorable," he coos at her when his laughter finally dies down, "you really believe that? Did you even look into the 'scholarship' you received?"

YN stays silent, glaring at him through the tears that threaten to spill out.

"It was all me. I've been the one paying for your tuition and let me tell you, it's not cheap. Your dad was supposed to have all the money to pay me back today and surprise, he doesn't. So here we are," the stranger says, tossing his hands up into the air.

He stands up, retrieving his gun once more and nodding at his backup all three of them exchanging a look YN is terrified to now the meaning of.

"Well, as fun as it's been chatting with you, YN, I'm growing very bored of all of this. Let's just kill them and go."

YN's parents start screaming again but YN shouts over them, desperate to stop what's happening.

"I'll pay it!" she shrieks, "I'll pay it back! Don't hurt them, please!"

The man stops what he's doing, turning to look at her with interest.

"You'll never be able to pay it back," he says, a pitying tone in his voice, "It's better to just let me kill your parents and get it over with."

"No! I will! I'll pay it back! Every cent! I don't care if it takes my entire life!"

YN is in hysterics now, sweat and tears sticking to her skin as she struggles against her captor.

"Jungkook, let her go," the man says.

He does as told and YN collapses onto the floor, her legs unable to support her. The world around her is blurry from her glossed eyes as she cries freely, staring at the grimey floor.

"Please," she pleads, her voice broken.

Two leather shoes come into her sight and a single teardrop falls upon them.

"Look at me," the boss says.

YN raises her head to look at him. He's crouching beside her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Don't do something you'll regret, YN," he says as if he's a friend advising her and not the one ruining her life.

"I'm not," YN says, speaking over the lump in her throat, "I'll never regret saving them."

For a moment, everything in the kitchen is deadly silent. YN's terrified that he'll just kill all of them anyway, turning her offer down entirely and laughing in her face.

"I have a different idea," he says, "You can pay back your parents' debt with your life."

"What," YN gasps out.

She's blotchy and red from all the crying but he swears he's never seen something so beautiful. A sadistic part of himself is dying to see this expression again.

"Marry me."

YN only gapes at him, half expecting him to burst out laughing.

"What?" she parrots.

"Marry me," he repeats, "Pay your family's debt back buy pledging to spend the rest of your life by my side."

YN's teary eyes search his face for a lie, finding none. Wordlessly, she bobs her head up and down, ignoring the protest from her parents.

"Wonderful," this man says, standing up and clapping his hands together, "Let's go YN. Home is quite the way away."

"Can I," she struggles, "At least say goodbye."

"No time. Come now or watch me put a bullet in between your mother's eyes."

YN rises instantly, between this stranger and his guards, refusing to look back even though her parents call out for her. She knows that if she does, she won't be able to walk away.

On their way out, YN sees the still form of her beloved childhood dog, her voice catching in her throat.

"Was it yours?" her soon to be husband asks.

YN nods.

"Use your words, YN," he orders.

"Yes," YN says, the singular word shaky in her throat.

"Sorry," he says half-heartedly, "It wouldn't shut up."

"Okay," is all she can muster, continuing with them out of her childhood home, never to see it or her parents again.

As soon as they step foot out onto the cracked sidewalk, a discreet black vehicle pulls up. The man opens the back door for her, gesturing for her to slide in. She does so mindlessly, barely registering what's happening.

The guards disappear from sight, most likely going to their own car.

"Make sure to use the childlock, Jimin," her to be husband says.

"Yes sir," the man replies.

YN doesn't even try to look at him, too emotionally exhausted to do anything. The car pulls away and the drive is so smooth that YN passes out, the exhaustion getting to her.

As she sleeps dreamlessly, the man sitting next to her looks her over, intrigued. It's been quite a while since he's been so interested in someone.

"Who's that?" the driver asks.

Jimin's always been curious, ever since they met as young children.

"No one. Not yet, at least."

"What did you get yourself into this time?"

"I'm not sure. Something tells me that it's going to be fun, though."

Chapter Two

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[bestiesenpai]

Gojo lyric challenge

I found this cute lil challenge on Pinterest! A picker wheel chose Gojo, I excluded repeating lines or else I would have gone mad, and the song I chose was medicine by shawn wasabi :)

“I’m so- so sick!” Sniffling like a toddler with a wicked cold on a Friday night wasn’t what you had in mind when you imagined how your weekend would go. Wrapped tightly in a blanket, you shivered on your couch as sweat began to form on your brow.

“How bad is it, (Y/N)?” Satoru asked over the phone, running a worried hand through his hair. You sounded awful, much worse than when he talked to you the day before. Your voice was shoddy and he could hear you breathing through your mouth.

“I’m cold sweating and I love it.” Rolling your eyes, you crumpled into the couch cushions with a groan. “One moment I’m hotter than ever, the next I’m colder than ice! I feel high, not sober.” Deflating even more, just being awake was a struggle for you right now.

“Want me to come over and bring you medicine?” His heart ached for you, and even though he was at the school it was the weekend, surely he could disappear for a few days with no issue?

“No, I don’t want you catching this.” Throwing the blanket over your eyes, you fought back the urge to sneeze. Satoru had begun speaking again but you were too busy scrunching up your nose to listen, head pounding from the effort.

“(Y/N), babe? You listeni-”

“Achoo!” Fumbling with your phone, the force of your sneeze - and the two that came after the first - was enough to push you further into the couch and fumble your phone, effectively hanging up on Satoru and dropping it between the couch cushions.

Ripping the blanket off your face, you blindly grabbed the box of tissues you left near you. There was snot pouring out of your nose, making your face irritated from all the rubbing you were doing.

Too numb to do anything else, you grabbed your phone and trudged to the bedroom, shivering with every pass of air against your face. Once in the dark room, the dull headache you had subsided slightly and you collapsed under the covers after taking a shot of cold medicine.

Tossing and turning in the night, your sickness felt like a fever dream that would never be over. With the medicine it was easy to fall asleep, but through the course of the night you woke up in a feverish fog, not fully conscious but enough to toss the blankets off your sweat covered body and then grab them again.

Waking up in the morning was a struggle, sleep still having a tight grip on you as your body tried to fight the illness. Your blankets were up to your chin, but there was sweat pooling in the ditches of your body.

Just as you were about to throw the blankets off your body and cool off, your phone began to ring, it’s incessant vibrating making the mattress shake.

“H-hello?” Fishing through your blankets, you grabbed it on the last ring.

“(Y/N)! Baby, how are you? I tried to call you back last night but you didn’t answer!” Satoru’s slightly scared voice spewed out over the phone. Taking a few deep breaths, you finally freed your body from the blankets.

“I’m wide awake in bed with my clothes on the floor.” You grumbled, looking to your side to see every article of clothing you went to sleep with in a pile. Satoru chuckled at your answer, relieved that you had survived the night without him.

“Let me come over today, please? I’ll bring some medicine and make some soup for you?”

“I don’t have anything to make soup.” Shivering as all the sweat evaporated away, you burrowed under the blankets again.

“I’ll go to the store.” Satoru answered immediately. There was a heavy pause as you thought over his answer, brain sluggish on forming words. “C’mon (Y/N), don’t leave me hanging. At least gimme a no.”

“I’m thinking.” You said with a whine, making Satoru laugh again.

“You really know how to test my patience.”

“If you come over you have to wear a mask, I don’t want you to get sick.” Now it was Satoru’s turn to whine. You could almost imagine him stamping his feet on the ground like a child and pouting.

“Fine, I’ll wear a mask. Now what kind of soup do you want, I’ll go to the store before I stop by.”

“Surprise me.” Ending the call with a curt grunt, you relaxed back into bed. There was no energy in your body, not even enough to grab the medicine off the bedside table or get a glass of water for your parched throat.

Falling back into a restless slumber, you slept through Satoru calling you once he was at the store and when he was outside your apartment. Luckily for him, he had a key to your place and was able to let himself in, tiptoeing quietly through your house.

“(Y/N)?” He called out for you, taking off his mask once he saw you weren’t in the lounge room or the kitchen. “Are you sleeping?” Walking to your bedroom, he grinned when he saw you passed out and drooling on your pillow.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Satoru fixed your blankets and moved your body into a more optimal sleeping position, one where your neck wasn’t being strained in a weird way and your head was elevated to help you breathe.

“Satoru?” All your twisting and turning had left you tongue tied, mouth feeling incredibly dry as you said his name.

“Hey sleepyhead.” Leaning a little closer to you, he grinned widely at your confused face, his eyes searching you from behind the glasses he had on.

“P-put your mask on, dummy.” Fumbling to push him away, you grabbed the mask that rested on his chin and pulled it over his face. “You’ll get sick.”

“(Y/N), I already am sick.” Fixing the mask on his face, Satoru laughed. “You got me feeling lovesick.”

“Lovesick?” Rolling your eyes at the cheesy line, you couldn’t help the smile that spread on your face.

“Mhmm, and ooh baby do I love it!” Gripping his heart dramatically, Satoru delighted in the fact he got you to laugh. Even behind his mask you could tell he was smiling like a fool as he looked at you.

“So what did-” Your question was cut off by a gross, wet cough. There was sticky phlegm coating the back of your throat, and the force of your actions had snot running down your nose a little as well.

“Here, here.” Grabbing you a few tissues, Satoru sprang up from the bed. “I’m going to make you some tea.” Nodding as he left the room, you coughed into the tissues and blew your nose loudly.

With a spinning head and wobbly legs, you pulled yourself from bed and threw the tissues away, walking blindly to the bathroom to take care of the needs that you’d been ignoring in favor of sleeping.

“What’re you doing out of bed?” Standing at your empty bedside with his arms crossed, Satoru tapped his foot impatiently as you reentered the room.

“Pee.” You said with a sniffle and Satoru immediately dropped his arms, pulling back the covers to help you lay back down.

“I bought some really strong herbal tea from the store, an old lady told me it works really well for sickness.” Picking up the mug he left on the bedside table, Satoru blew away the steam billowing from the top.

“It smells horrible.” Even with your nose blocked you could smell how strong the tea was and your lip curled in disgust.

“I know, but it’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t want it, Toru.” Your lip formed a heavy pout and you turned away from him, turning your back on the tea that you could smell even with your face pressed into a pillow.

“Just have a little bit, I promise you’ll feel better!” Tugging on your shoulder, Satoru eventually wore you down enough to make you turn over. With watery eyes and a soft glare you took the mug and took a drink of the tea.

“Oh I love how it tastes!” Nearly gagging on the strong taste, you swallowed down a big gulp to appease Satoru. Falling back down into bed, you rubbed a hand down your face. “Happy now?”

“Very. I’ll go start on the soup.”

“Did you get a recipe from that old lady?”

“No, the internet.” Flicking your arm, he left the room. You could hear him digging through a few shopping bags and banging pots and pans in the kitchen. The longer the tea sat in your stomach, the more it warmed you up and soothed your throat. Taking another sip, you slowly got up from bed.

“Hey, what’re you doing up?” Satoru peeked at you from the kitchen, his sharp blue eyes watching you trudge to the couch with a blanket wrapped around you.

“I’m bored just laying in bed sick.” Propping yourself up on cushions, you sank into the couch with a labored sigh. “So why not be sick out here?” Satoru chuckled, mumbling an agreement before returning to the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later, the soup was done. It was a simple recipe, one that Satoru didn’t need to fuss over too much in terms of prep. Carrying another steaming cup of tea in his other hand, he sat next to you on the couch.

“Here’s the soup, and more tea.” Sitting up slightly, you attempted to take the bowl from him. “Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to feed yourself?”

“Yes.” Right as you said it, a sneeze pushed your head back, leaving your temples throbbing.

“Mmm, I’ll help.”

“Whatever.” Sitting up more so he could feed you, you tried not to look at Satoru’s cheesy grin as you ate.

“Ya know, I don’t know if I’m supposed to like it this much, you being sick and all.” He cooed, setting the bowl down to give you some tea.

“If it was up to you, I’d never be getting better.” Taking a sip from the tea, it burned your tongue and made you wince. “I want more, more of the soup.”

“Of course, my love.” Bowing his head, Satoru picked up the bowl again. “Now here comes the airplane!”

Once all the tea and soup was gone, you curled into the side of the couch. Wrapped up tightly in blankets, you weren’t really paying attention to what was on the television. There were slow or sudden conversations that you couldn’t follow, words being spoken that went right over your head.

“How could you sleep with both my father and brother?!” The soap opera character on screen shouted angrily, getting ready to throw a drink at another.

“Toru, what am I watching?” Lifting up your heavy head, you looked to the other side of the couch, where the man in question was watching the show intently.

“Hell if I know but it’s pretty interesting.” He answered with a shrug, taking a glance at you. “Hey, why’re you so far away?”

“Because I’m sick.”

“I’m lonely.” He pouted behind the mask you insisted he keep on. “I want to hug you, you’re not feeling well.”

“Don’t touch me!” You shouted to the best of your ability with a painfully scratchy throat, but it was too late. Satoru was already leaning over to your side of the couch, encroaching on your space and manhandling you to the middle to lay on him.

“It’s always worth the wait, each time we touch.” Snuggling into your blanket clad body, Satoru let out a hum.

“Satoru Gojo, let go of me!” Attempting to wiggle out of his embrace was impossible, he had too tight a hold and your body wasn’t exactly at its strongest.

Your struggling made the blanket you’d wrapped around your head fall off, exposing your face and head to the cold air. Seeing the opportunity present itself, Satoru leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Satoru! Why’d you kiss me you’re gonna get sick!” You watched in horror as he threw his mask onto the coffee table.

“You should know by now babe, all the rules are always bending, but only for us.” With a smug grin, he gave you another kiss before you could dodge him.

“The principal will be mad if you get sick because of me.”

“Eh, let ‘im. Who cares?” Leaning back, Satoru took you with him, moving more of you into his lap. “I’ll kiss you every day and every night, no matter the circumstance.”

“You’re so annoying.” Mumbling under your breath, you cozied up into his embrace more, no longer having the energy to fight it. Rubbing a hand up and down the full length of your back, Satoru let out a hum. It was quiet between you two for a few minutes, until a tickle in the back of your throat forced your body to convulse in a strong cough.

“Oh baby.” Satoru frowned slightly, giving you a few hard pats on the back. “Have a tissue.” He stuffed a couple in your hand, watching behind his glasses with concern in his eyes. “Hey, how often should you have medicine? I don’t think you’ve had any today.”

“Gi-ve me m-medicine twice a day. That’s what the label s-said.” You answered between coughs, fighting to catch your breath.

“Okay, one sec.” Shifting you off his lap, Satoru dashed to your bedroom to grab the bottle of medicine. When he came back, your coughing had subsided, but you were mentally drained from the ordeal.

“You’re too good to me, Toru, I’ve taken up your whole day being sick.” Dabbing at your watery eyes, you noticed the distinct lack of direct sunlight coming into the room. The sun was setting behind the buildings surrounding you, casting long shadows into your home.

“(Y/N), I don’t care. I won’t leave until you get better, I’ll stay forever if you let me.”

“Forever’s a long time.” You grinned, taking the tiny cup full of medicine that he poured for you and drinking it quickly.

“You make time feel never ending.” Satoru replied, getting comfortable on the couch with you again and cuddling you in his lap.

“You’re so cheesy.” Giggling at the line, you wrapped him in a hug. “Don’t be mad at me if I keep you up at night with my coughing.”

“Keep me up, I don’t mind.” Giving you a kiss on the cheek, Satoru hugged you back even tighter. “Just gives me more time to watch these stories.” He pointed to the TV right as two characters got into a fight.

“What a wonderful doctor I have.” Rolling your eyes, you lay your head in the crook of his neck, letting the dialogue from the TV become white noise and lull you to sleep.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Household Planning (1/2)

Summary:  

"It was Levi's household. The plates were arranged and sorted by color and use, the way Levi liked it. The cabinets and the storage were arranged in a way which would be efficient for cooking, or at least the way Levi would have wanted to cook."

Levi gets sick and Hange is left to navigate household chores.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: Set in the same verse as  “Rough day”  and “Sugar Rush”

"You're taking a week off?"

Hange wished no one would be there when she dropped by the queen’s office to give the letter. It was painful as it is to fathom what the next week would be like. Making her way to her familiar office in civilian clothing and seeing Historia there in the room only added salt to the wound.

“I’ve asked Armin to take over first. It will only be for a week at the most,” Hange explained.

"No. Take as many days as you need. I don't think you've even taken the day off since the war ended." Historia gave Hange a reassuring smile as she placed the letter back in the envelope.

Hange was sure the queen would give the week off with no arguments. Queen Historia had always had been understanding about any excuses related to family. Somehow, the response had come as a big surprise to Hange. As she walked out of the office and into the courtyard, she felt the late afternoon breeze seep through the cotton of her civilian shirt. It felt oddly nostalgic and Hange was reminded that she had not taken a day off in years.  

“It’s not like I’m gonna be resting anyway.” Hange muttered to herself as she made her way through the courtyard and into the main road to call for a taxi.

"Where to, Ma'am?”

“Paradis Central Hospital.

20 hours earlier

Levi was usually the one who opened the door for her when she got home. That night, she was surprised to find their seven year old Luke by the door waiting for her.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep? Where’s daddy?” Hange asked as she helped her son stand up. The young boy’s eyes were drooping and Hange was sure he would fall asleep as soon as she put him to bed.

“Daddy’s asleep.”

“Really?” Hange glanced at the clock on the mantle as she carried Luke to his room.

It was only a quarter to nine and she had known Levi long enough to know he would never be asleep at that time. In fact, most nights he was the one who would welcome her home. He would be cleaning, organizing or mixing tea in the kitchen while she showered and got ready for bed. She always fell asleep to the clatters of plates and mugs, the clanks of pots and pans and the opening and closing of cupboards. Funnily, she always woke up to them too, a testament to the odd sleeping patterns of her partner.

Luke had fallen asleep in her arms. Hange lay him gently on his bed and put the blanket over him. As she turned off the lights and closed the door behind her, Hange was made aware of the fact that the house was unnaturally silent without the sounds of Levi tinkering with something in the kitchen. She hurried to the bedroom she shared with Levi to find him on the bed, his back to the door.

“Tiring day?”

Levi was a light sleeper. Some nights when Hange did wake up next to him, she could usually elicit a reply or reaction from him with almost any sound no matter how soft. At that moment though, Levi was not responding.

She approached the bed, letting her footsteps resound loudly on the wooden floor under her. He still did not react. Levi was covered up to his chin with blankets. Not wanting to disturb the set up, Hange rested her hand on his cheek, only to recoil at the heat being released.

How was he this morning?  Hange felt a twinge of guilt when she realized she did not remember much of it. She had still woken up to the same banging of pots and pans and a full breakfast. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Hey, are you okay?" Hange asked, as she shook him lightly.

"Just… need to rest." Levi did not open his eyes. In fact, his face tensed as he said those words and Hange guessed that that slight effort was already causing him pain.

How much pain was he in?  They were both soldiers in another life and they both had higher pain tolerance than most people. It had set off some alarms inside her and Hange was considering calling a doctor then and there just to be on the safe side.

Am I overreacting? The last time Levi had needed medical attention, they managed in the middle of the forest with a little first aid.

Hange changed into her pajamas and settled on the bed next to him.

She scooched closer to him. The heat emitted from his body alarmed her but Hange reassured herself by focusing on the rhythm of his rough breathing. He was still very much alive.

“Just make sure to tell me if the pain gets worse. ” Hange whispered.

Levi let out what sounded like a whimper. A wave of concern washed over Hange. She put her arms around her partner, hoping that even just a little she could absorb the heat that was resonating from his skin.

She let the rhythm of his breathing lull her to sleep.

                                       Household Planning

When Hange woke up again, the sky was still dark. The sound of birds chirping just outside the window was enough though for Hange to conclude that it was at least late enough that the sun would rise soon.

“Good morning,” Hange whispered. His body was not as hot as it was the night before and Hange found herself squeezing her partner lightly in relief. “You scared me last night.”

“Hange…”  

Hange unwrapped her arms from around her partner and sat up. “You okay?”

Levi curled up into a ball, his arms wrapped around his stomach. “My stomach...hurts…”

Hange had seen Levi in worse situations in the battlefield but never in her life had she seen him so vulnerable. She had brushed off her worry the night before but as she took in her partner, lying curled up like a ball, the ragged breathing and the uncharacteristic whimpers, Hange conceded that she could not take the risk of omission. “Levi. I’m sorry I’m calling a doctor.”

Hange wished Levi had protested the whole set off. At the least, she wished he were conscious or aware enough to even notice a sleepy and confused Luke next by his bedside. He was lying prone on the bed as the doctor put his shirt up and ran his hands through the stomach area.

Hange’s blood ran cold as she watched Levi squirm in pain at lightest touch. She had worked with injured soldiers long enough to know it was a common symptom of internal injuries. The question that lingered was how exactly had it gotten to that point.

“This doesn’t look good Mrs. Zoe. We're going to have to get him to a hospital quick. He might need emergency surgery.”

“Do what you need to do.”

Hange walked out of the room and sat her son down on the living room sofa. She could hear the doctor making his way to the phone, quickly dialing a number and a few seconds later, he was rattling off vitals.

Hange had a fair amount of experience with first aid but the science and technology brought back from Marley was a tall order for her to master and Hange had to admit she probably would have only understood 70% of what the doctor had told the paramedics.

She spent the next few minutes explaining the situation to her son Luke over a quick breakfast and while walking him to school. Luke had ended up late as he had asked too many questions.

Why didn't daddy make breakfast?

Where are they taking daddy?

Are you okay mommy?

By the time Hange made it to the hospital, Levi was being prepped for surgery. He was completely unconscious as they unbuttoned his pajamas and switched it with a hospital gown.

Hange stayed nearby just in case he did wake up through it. She occupied herself by marveling at the improvements made in the hospital and the new developments by Marley. It was her first time back there for at least three years having shifted her focus into railways and street car installations.  A nurse put a needle through his wrist which was attached to a bag on a rack. Hange had forgotten the name of that invention but deduced that it was to get medicine into his system.                          

"How long will he be in surgery?" Hange asked.

The nurse shook her head. "We don't know the extent of the damage yet but internal bleeding of this severity should take at least two to three hours."

Internal bleeding. That usually meant certain death in the field. Hange could not help but think, if Levi had experienced that sickness only just a decade ago, he would have been dead.

"Thank you for all your hard work," Hange said.

She resigned herself to the fact that she would have to wait out until news on her partner came out. She made a brief detour to the outdoor payphone to call sick for the day. Armin would be able to take over anyway, he was very familiar at least with the plans Hange had for the transportation route through the city.

Hange could not shake the feeling that she would be missing out though. Her best ideas always came when she was in the office looking through blueprints and construction updates.

She willed herself to dial the familiar number of her office and explain her current situation.

Armin who had answered the phone was understanding and had given genuine well wishes to Levi. When Hange went back to the waiting room though, she started to reflect on the fact, that maybe the one who did not want the day off was just her.

As she sat back on the chair of the waiting room and looked up at the blank ceiling of the hospital, Hange knew she was miserable.

She was left to do what she had not done in years, sit idly by and wait.

                                        Household Planning

"A burst appendix with abscesses around his stomach area. It was pretty bad, a very high risk of infection. We will need to monitor him for at least a week and he'll be on a strict antibiotic plan for a while."

An appendix. She knew that organ. It was the useless organ yet it caused so much damage in Levi's system. "How long will he be…"

"We set up a room for him. He'll be staying for at least a week since we will need to monitor signs of post surgical infection and possible surgery again. He's not out of the woods yet."

Hange followed the doctor into one of the rooms on the third floor, noting that there were a lot more nurses making their rounds on that floor.

A nurse was there putting the covers over her partner when Hange arrived in. Her stomach dropped as she saw the tubes that all connected to some part underneath the blankets. Even for dying soldiers, she had never seen that type of medical treatment before and maybe if it hadn't been on Levi, she would have been excited at the prospect of seeing first hand the medical technology involved in keeping a patient alive.

At that moment though, her thoughts were all on Levi, how much he remembered, how much pain he was in and most importantly, if he were going to live through it.

Hange walked to his bedside and put her hand underneath the blanket, feeling for his hand. His hand was limp but it was neither too warm or too cold. She grasped his hand tighter, focusing on its warmth as a reprieve from the events of the past few hours.

"Hey four eyes, where's Luke?"

"He's in school…" Hange rubbed her eyes, still adjusting to the waking world.

"His classes are until eleven. It's one."

Hange sat up and look at the clock at the end of the room. "Wait what?" How long have I been sitting here?

Levi was half sitting up on the bed, conscious but groggy, looking particularly surprised. "Did you forget our kid?"

The realization of what had just happened dawned on Hange a split second too late. By then, Levi’s eyes narrowed into an accusing glare, a quick change from that of disbelief only a second ago.

Hange felt blood rush into her face "I’m sorry. A lot has been happening. You're stuck in the hospital… I don't know what to do…"

"Son first. Questions later."

                              Household Planning

The next question, Hange found herself tackling was where to take Luke. It was an obvious logistical choice yet it took Hange enough brain space that she ended up cringing at the state of her mind at that moment.

She had considered leaving him at home but could not come up with someone who could stay with Luke at a last minute request. She knew she would probably be with Levi for a while in the hospital, possibly until late night. It was a risk, leaving a child with a sick parent in a hospital ward but it at least trumped the idea of leaving him alone at home.

Somehow, leaving Luke with a sick, possibly immobile Levi, still seemed to be enough to give her some peace of mind.

"You promise to stay good, okay. Daddy needs rest," Hange said as they stood in front of the door to his room.

"Promise."

The promise was short lived. As soon as the door opened before him, Luke ran towards Levi's bedside and Hange had to grab him as he motioned to jump on the bed next to him.

"Daddy!"

"How was school?"

"I was the only one there. I thought nobody was going to pick me up."

Levi sneaked a glare at Hange with their son's last statement.

"Sorry Luke. Mommy got carried away. Daddy's going to be sick for a while and there was a lot to think about." Hange hugged her son from behind.

"How long will daddy be here?"

"A week at least," Levi answered.

So the doctor at least explained the situation to him.

Levi still looked like he was in pain and Hange wondered how much of his motions were a front he was putting up in front of their son.

"Mommy and Daddy need to talk. Could you give us some space?"

There were nurses all over the floor and Hange was sure at least one of them would have the time to take care of a kid. It was a quick search and within a few minutes of going out into the hallway, she at least had the peace of mind that someone was taking care of her son. The fact the nurse was helping with homework was an added bonus.

"I feel like shit," Levi admitted as Hange entered the room once again.

"You're doing great. I thought you'd be asleep the whole day to be honest."

"I don't think I'd even be able to relax anymore. Imagine waking up to realize my wife forgot about our kid."

Hange gave her husband an apologetic smile. "Just give me a list of everything I need to get done, everyday. While you're here. I'll get it done."

"Don't you have work?"

                                    Household Planning  

By evening, Hange had filed her leave for the week, she had her to do list on hand and Luke was at least distracted with toys she had just bought him from the gift shop next to the hospital.

Her first challenge was dinner. She had the cooking skills but the way everything in the household was sorted out made Hange hesitate to touch anything.

It was Levi's household. The plates were arranged and stalked by color and use, the way Levi liked it. The cabinets and the storage were arranged in a way which would be efficient for cooking, or at least the way Levi would have wanted to cook.

In the cupboard, they were so tightly stacked on top of one another that Hange feared that she would break something just by pulling something out.

Hange sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she was still left shocked by the events of that morning. Less than 24 hours ago, she would not have imagined having to learn to navigate the household all by herself.

I'm gonna need a while to adjust.

"Luke, we're going out to buy dinner."

                                Household Planning  

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Omelette!"

30 minutes to eight. Luke should be in school by eight.

"It's pretty late for an omelette… What about bread?" In fact, Hange did know Luke liked omelettes. She did not want to admit it to her son yet but although she had spent a fair half an hour looking through the kitchen, she could not find the eggs.

The only food stored places within reason were the bread and the fruits which were displayed in a basket and a bowl on the kitchen table. The bread was covered in cloth, neatly folded when she found it though. As she put back the bread after eating it that morning, she could not recreate that same intricate folding pattern Levi had done.

"There were eggs in the fridge."

Where? Who puts eggs in the fridge?

Hange chose to pretend to ignore it. "Let's just get you to school. What time do I need to pick you up?"

"Two." Luke was avoiding her gaze and Hange could tell he was trying to hide disappointment.

"I'll take note of that." Hange took a pen from her kitchen table and wrote the time on her wrist. "Just eat this for breakfast." She wrapped a piece of bread on paper and dropped it in his bag.

It's my first time having to be the one to cook breakfast, of course there will be a few bumps.

"I didn't know where you put the eggs so I just gave him bread for breakfast."

"Where did you think the eggs were?" Levi asked, not even trying to hide the disappointment in his gaze. Hange inferred that it could have also been from the meager breakfast he was given that morning of pudding and fruit which Levi was mixing as he listened to the developments that morning.

“I looked everywhere, the cupboards, the storage, I even checked our bedroom.”

“It’s in the refrigerator.”

“And that’s what Luke said. I checked it after dropping him at school but it wasn’t there.”

“I put it towards the back so it wouldn’t break if it ends up accidentally falling out.”

The new refrigerators that came from Marley were a welcome improvement to the icebox that most people in Paradis were used to. Having busied herself with other things, Hange never really bothered to learn its different compartments. It looked like Levi did not want her to learn it either. The latter had preoccupied himself buying them at the best bargain when they were finally available and had spent a fair amount of days since they got it, organizing and reorganizing all their spoilable goods.

“Why do you put your eggs in the refrigerator? Even if you leave it out, it won’t go bad.”

“It’s an animal product, you don’t know what it touched.”

Levi had researched his household plan well and Hange only appreciated it more when Levi took a pen and paper and drew the fridge compartments, perfectly from what she had remembered. He explained the contents compartment by compartment, with the rationale for each.

“Why don’t we keep the eggs in the compartments by the fridge door? You cook them everyday.”

“The sudden temperature changes can make the eggs go bad faster.”

“Why put vegetables in the lowest compartment?”

“Vegetables in the drawer below because this compartment has higher humidity levels for fresh produce.”

Levi made sense. Hange had done her fair share of experiments to quickly understand Levi’s logic behind everything. She was still taken aback by how far he had thought ahead and how meticulous the whole process of organizing the refrigerator was for him. It almost made her hesitant to take anything out of the fridge for fear of destroying any part of the intricate plan Levi had set up for all their spoilable goods.

Levi dropped the pen and sighed. “So I’m assuming you didn’t get any cooking done if you still don’t know where everything is. What did you pack Luke for lunch then?”

                                    Household Planning  

Levi probably would not have approved of Luke enjoying a late lunch of two soft serve ice creams and a slice of bread. That was the only way Hange saw herself pacifying the young boy who looked to be on the verge of crying and shouting at his mother when she picked him up from school. At the same time, the reminder from Levi was enough for Hange to at least have enough motivation to remember to show up on time to pick him up.

“Don’t tell your father about this.” She muttered, as she led him through the market. Levi had left her a grocery list before she left to pick up Luke from school. At that point, she was determined at least to not fuck up the grocery shopping.

Another tray of eggs, bread, spinach, oranges, apples. The list was straightforward. When Levi and Hange had planned the list, they considered the easiest things for Hange to prepare, cook, eat and store for the next week while Levi’s fate was still undecided. She only had to buy enough for the two of them at least.

The markets were designed that all types of produce and goods could be caught with one loop around the market. In thirty minutes, Hange had gone through everything on the list.

As Hange made her way to the exit of the market, she felt a tug on her hand. “What are you looking at?” Hange followed her son’s gaze to see the tea and coffee shop on the side.  

“Daddy might want tea.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He only has three more bags left at home.”

                                    Household Planning            

Hange had dreaded the process of storing the food she had bought. She imagined having to empty the fridge and make wild guesses on where Levi would have wanted each product and whether or not she angled them in a way where it would be most convenient for those who opened it or less likely to spill.

Levi had explained a lot of it to her but many parts of it were going quickly into one ear and out the other due to the detail he put into such mundane concepts. She found that the crazy amount of detail and the fact that she possibly left things out, had left her blank at what exactly to do when she opened the refrigerator door.

“Daddy likes the stem facing outwards.” Luke pointed out as he grabbed the spinach from the bag and put it inside the half open vegetable drawer.

“The eggs?”

“You have to push the cheese out of the way when you put the eggs in. Tray opening facing outside...”

Hange at least knew where the fruits and the bread went. She lined up the fruit bowl and the bread basket on the kitchen table and added the fruits she had bought from the market on to the pile.

Luke reached out for the oranges on the top and distributed them evenly towards the edges of the bowl. “Daddy said it might fall if you let them sit unevenly on a pile.”

Hange unfolded the cloth on the bread basket and put the bread inside. She attempted once again to fold it similarly to what Levi had been doing before. Luke scooched closer to her and Hange could only gape as Luke deftly folded it into the same tight pattern she had seen it in that morning.

“Daddy taught you all of this?”

[rainandhotchocolate]

Blackout - Part 8

A/N ha I’m not even going to try and say something about consistent posting. I am tired but I am sorry :( pls forgive, I hope this chapter makes up for the time it took to write xx enjoy

Part 8

Sirius’s head pounded painfully as he turned over on the couch, nearly falling off. The other three boys were lying in different states of disarray across the room. James was lying on his stomach, hair splayed around his head like a halo. Remus was curled into a ball around a couch pillow and Peter had fallen across the armchair, head lolling to one side.

Sirius groaned as he sat upright, a wave of nausea hitting him painfully. He took three steadying breaths and tried again, pushing himself up with his forearms and stumbled into the kitchen, beginning to rummage through his pantry for a bottle of anti-nausea potion he’d been saving for just this moment. His balance swayed and he felt himself sliding sideways as he quickly grabbed the bottle and the edge of the cabinet swung back into the side of his head.

“FUCK,” He swore loudly, leaning against the countertop and closing his eyes as the pounding in his head became worse. Sucking in a breath he took a swig from the potion. It took affect almost immediately, his entire body relaxing.

“What the fuck is going on?” Remus’s sleepy, angry voice came from the living room.

“Nothing.” Sirius brought the potion back into the living room and handed it to Remus who drank deeply and placed it beside James’s head. He snored loudly and nearly hit the bottle over.

“How are you feeling?” Remus sat up, leaning against the fireplace.

“Oh, real peachy,” Sirius snorted, sitting back down on the couch. “It’s all a bit of a blur.”

“Mmm,” Remus hummed, looking down at his dirty fingernails.

“What?” Sirius narrowed his eyes.

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“No… why, what did I do?”

Remus grimaced, running a hand through his hair.

“You made some calls.”

“Oh please, be more vague.”

Remus rolled his eyes and took in a deep breath.

“You made some calls to Lily… and Y/N.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Do I want to know what I said?”

“Something along the lines of professing your undying love for Y/N whilst your face was in her fireplace.”

Sirius closed his eyes and placed a hand over his forehead.

“Fuck.”

There was a loud banging on Lily’s front door and she grumbled loudly as she stumbled down the stairs and opened the door.

‘What?” Lily huffed, raising an eyebrow at the four rugged boys looking staring at her from the front steps.

“Is Y/N here?” James asked, rubbing his eyes as if he couldn’t see her properly. Which was likely due to the lack of glasses.

“No, you realise it’s 11am on a Tuesday, right?”

“Ahh, work.” Remus nodded sagely. He leaned slowly against the doorframe.

“Would you like to come in?”

There was a chorus of “Yes please.”

The boys traipsed inside, heading straight for the kitchen where James began pulling out the eggs and bacon and passing them to Sirius who pulled out the pots and pans. Peter slumped on the table.

“Sleep well?” Remus gave Lily a kiss on the cheek and a very sleepy smile.

“I did, I’ve been sleeping in so much lately you guys actually woke me up.”

“Merlin, I expected to be interrupting your day off, sorry we woke you.”

“I really should be up and about anyway,” Lily waved him off and joined the boys in the kitchen. “So do any of you want to explain last night?”

She smiled around the kitchen as the boys avoided her gaze.

“No? So you all just let Sirius get so destroyed he decided to call me?”

“In all fairness it was Y/N he was trying to reach.”

“Not helping Peter,” Sirius groaned. “I wanted to come over and apologise. I feel awful.”

“I’d say that’s the hangover,” James snorted, narrowly avoiding a slap on the back from Sirius.

“They were welcoming me back into town.” Remus chimed in, “Though I mean, classic Sirius to make it all about him.”

Remus winked and Sirius groaned louder.

“I actually hate all of you.”

“Breakfast is served!”

James placed two plates of eggs, bacon, spinach and tomatoes on the table and began handing out plates for the rest of them to start eating. Once they had finished, Lily squeezed Sirius’s arm and nodded towards the living room where he followed her.

“Are you ok?”

“I really don’t need the first degree right now, Lily.” Sirius rolled his eyes and lay on the couch.

“I’m honestly asking.” Lily gave him a look that always made Sirius uncomfortable. It was the one she gave him when he was burning his parent’s letters in the Gryffindor fireplace.

Sirius huffed and stared up at the ceiling. It was a pale blue colour. Sirius wondered for a moment why they had bothered painting it.

“I know you might not want to talk about it, but you don’t need to apologise to her.”

“I don’t?” Sirius still stared up at the ceiling but felt himself zoning back into Lily’s voice.

“She’s not a complete idiot, it’s not like she didn’t know you were still in love with her.”

“Definitely helping, Lils.”

“I mean that she wasn’t more freaked out by it. But you do need to bloody talk to her.”

“What do you thi-!” Sirius sat up to face her, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re not talking to her, you’re trying to bring back your old version of Y/N. You need to just talk to her, like a friend.”

Sirius looked at her momentarily. Like a friend. As if they were ever friends.

“She just needs people to trust right now, ok?”

“Ok.”

Y/N arrived home around 7, finding James and Sirius lying on the floor of the living room and listening to a new muggle record, and Lily reading in the next room eating a large bowl of cereal.

“Welcome back,” Lily smiled up at her, placing a bookmark into the book and putting it on the table. “How was work?”

“Ok, I think. It’s weird getting my head around things I sort of know but sort of don’t. And I’m not really sure what they expect from me.”

“I’m sure they expect that you don’t know everything right after being in hospital,” Lily laughed, “Cereal?”

“Sure.” Y/N raised an eyebrow but joined her at the dining table all the same. “What are the boys listening to?”

“New joy division album, I picked it up this afternoon. Not too bad.”

Y/N just nodded her head, leaning back into the chair and watching through the doorway. Lily handed her a bowl of cereal and a spoon, returning to her book. The boys were humming along now, clearly having already listened to the record at least once over. Sirius’s face was soft and calm, hair surrounding his head in a halo of black curls. Y/N could see the glint of a gold earring in his right ear and felt up to where she had her own rounded gold earrings on.

“I think I’m going to head up to bed.” Y/N lifted up the bowl of cereal and turned to Lily.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Y/N took her bag and bowl upstairs and closed the door so she couldn’t hear the music anymore, just the soft wind blowing from outside the window in the guest room. She lay back on the bed, digging into the bowl of Rice Krispies Lily had given her and munching down as she stared at the wall in front of her. Lily had decorated their guest room with wallpaper that moved around as she watched it, the stars slowly moving around the room and circling the large full moon on the roof.

Y/N found herself drifting in and out of sleep, consistently waking up with a jolt and sitting up in the now pitch black room. Around what she thought must be 2 or 3am she decided to finally get up and stretch her legs. The house was quiet, calming. Y/N made her way down the stairs and into the living room where the large back doors looked out into the yard and the clear night sky. She pulled open the back door and sucked in a breath of fresh air, stepping out into the garden.

“Hello?” A voice called from around the side of the house and Y/N jumped, creeping forward to look around to the garden chairs James had set out over the summer. Sirius was leaning forward, similarly caught off guard by Y/N’s appearance.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t realise… I can go.” Y/N smiled awkwardly at him but he shook his head.

“No, it’s ok. I mean if you don’t mind me being here.”

“No, of course not.”

A silence fell over them. Sirius moved over to give some room for Y/N to sit and she joined him, leaning back and looking up at the stars. They said nothing to each other for a few moments, just the noise of the cool breeze and Sirius’s breathing breaking the silence.

Y/N could feel Sirius glancing at him every few moments and so she turned to him.

“Yes?”

“Sorry,” Sirius laughed, “I wasn’t sure whether or not I should offer you a cigarette.”

“Oh.” Y/N didn’t expect that. “Do I smoke?”

“No, I mean you smoked other things, but not cigarettes.” Sirius laughed, “But you sometimes liked one when you were stressed.”

“Right.” Y/N tried to remember the taste or smell, but all she could remember was watching Peter try one day at Hogwarts and coughing so much he began to gag.

“I’ll take that as a no, do you mind if I have one?”

“Go for it.” Y/N nodded her head towards him and he pulled out a packet and a lighter. He lit it and sucked in a breath, breathing out a spool of smoke into the air.

“How are you feeling after last night?” Y/N asked after a moment.

“Oh please, not you too.” Sirius placed his head in his hands, but Y/N laughed.

“I was very flattered, I promise.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Ok maybe a little embarrassed.”

“That’s more likely,” Sirius sat up and looked at her. Y/N was smiling at him. He felt his heart jump.

“Do you feel ok though? I am surprised you’re not more ill.”

“Peter has a knack for potions, he was feeding us anti-nausea all day.”

“Ahh, of course.” Y/N remembered Peter was found brewing a Polyjuice potion in his fourth year. A great potioneer, but not so great at hiding.

“So how was your first few days at work?” Sirius took another breath in from his cigarette, looking back towards the garden.

“Eh, ok. I don’t know, it all feels a bit weird, you know?” Y/N wasn’t sure he understood but he nodded sagely all the same.

“I think you just need to get back into the routine of it. You’ll figure out where you stand soon.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Sirius grinned, “I basically have a map to your future.”

“Oh really?” Y/N raised an eyebrow and felt herself relaxing into the chair, lifting a leg up and under herself.

“I can’t tell my secrets.” Sirius shook his head and pretended to lock his lips.

“You’re useless,” Y/N snorted, rolling her eyes at him.

They sat there talking for the next little while until Y/N began leaning more heavily against the chair and Sirius could see her eyes fluttering shut every few seconds.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Sirius put out his second cigarette and hooked an arm under her waist to lift her off the chair.

“Ok,” She mumbled, her head lolling slightly as she stumbled beside him, leaning into his arm, head against his chest. He brought her up to the guest room and into her bed, pulling the covers over her shoulders. She grabbed his arm as he turned to leave.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Ok Y/N,” Sirius chuckled softly, “Good night.”

Taglist:

@averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana​ @avengersassemblee​ @maraudersandco​ @sly-vixen-up2nogood​ @sirius-lysad​ @evyiione​ @minerva26love​ @aikeia​ @gollyderek​ @greatwombatblaze​  @songforhema​  @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom @hermionie-is-my-queen @demiwitch527   siobhanhope    delightfuldela     nadinissavage     fleurmoon    treestarrrrrrrr    @with1love1anu     @findzelda    @brighteyedmichelle    a-dorky-book-keeper   placeforcoolusername    damalseer   @approved-by-dentists @placeforcoolusername  @eury-dice3  @bookscoffeeandracoons  moonstarrnghtsky  cherrycolakxsses  kamilantya  play-morezeppelin    mknight080904

[luck-and-larceny]

Prompt 8: Clamor

Too loud. Always making a scene. No respect for money. No respect for music. No decency. Worst person he’s ever had the distinct displeasure of meeting? Is that what I am? Ok, Marrant. I can go with that. Let’s go with that.

The evening before Malika’s fiance had broken up with her. This was new because she was usually the one to do that. It wasn’t that she didn’t see it coming, Marrant’s gloom and anger had made near permanent dark shadows settle over his face for moons before this day. She had just stuck around because…

Fuck if I know.

She’d thought maybe he was right that day when he said that she just behaved the way she did because she didn’t have anyone who cared.

Such utter crap. I behave this way because I want to.

And this particular moment the way she wanted to behave was spitefully. Like a raging inferno of chaos, the 20 year old was up to no good and she was up to it with the money she’d stolen from her ex-fiance. She was going to make sure her hellfire burned every last bridge it touched and turned every good memory between them to ash.

“That’s a lot of cakes,” the woman at the first bakery said. “You need them when?”

“Early tomorrow morning. The earlier the better really. It’s a very early event but the cakes are crucial.”

“That’s a lot of pastries,” the man at the second bakery said. “You need them by when again?”

“Mid morning tomorrow. The event is in the afternoon, but we want to get a head start on the food.”

“I’m sorry. You want how many rugs delivered to your house?” The stern faced man at the home goods store seemed suspicious… but he needed the money.

“Oh. At least 20. In the yard. Just put them aaaaall of over the yard. We’re working on an art project. The rugs are key. Honestly, the brighter the colors the better. Think of Hatching Tide colors. Bright pinks, greens, yellows, purples. Just make sure they’re there by early afternoon because we’re going to be spending hours on this project and will want to get on it as soon as we finish brunch.”

The caterers for brunch were sure they’d have no problem delivering all the food that was requested. Their business had hit a rough patch in the last year and a spectacular event like--

“What did you say this was for?” the wife of the catering duo asked.

“It’s a chocobo bonding ceremony. Princess Rolanberry and Prince Dinglehop are finally making it official! The brunch is for the guests though. The people guests. The chocobo guests have a different caterer.”

The chocobo guests would be fine too. Malika made sure that Bentbranch Meadows understood just how very important it was that they deliver the obscene number of greens to Marrant’s house by mid-afternoon. “Just put it on the rugs outside!” she’d said happily.

And of course there was a band to play for Rolanberry and Dingehop. They were asked to accompany the first bakers in the early morning and parade through the housing district performing their joyous music. They were not to stop until they reached the house. And they were only to stop then briefly before playing again louder. “The man who answers the door will act like he is confused, but he’s going to love it.” It was tough work convincing the second band to show up because they had their “suspicions” and “doubts” about the legitimacy and legality of an evening  “marmot parade” but she showed them, and the marmot handlers afterwards, the very legitimate papers that she had forged single-handedly and paid them their money.

Marrant, her very important, very talented, very serious musician ex-fiance would surely appreciate at least one of the two bands, she was sure.

But just in case she got a third. This was just a collection of people she’d paid to stand around outside his house and alert him when another collection of items, foods, and entertainment he absolutely did not ask for arrived by banging pots and pans until he stepped outside.

She hid nearby when the first of the shipments arrived. Marrant stepped out, bleary eyed and confused, pushing strands of golden blond hair behind his long ears as he tried to understand why he had just been delivered 20 multi-tiered cakes that had messages on them such as ‘Smile!’, and ‘Make a Scene!’ and ‘Enjoy the Music!’ 

People standing outside his house happily banged pots and pans. The neighbors, who had been trying to sleep at 6 am the same as he had, peered out their windows.

He looked around, confused, and insisted he had not ordered these cakes and that the deliverers should take the cakes back and get off his property. But the men who delivered the cakes did not work at the bakery, they were just delivery guys. Their job was done and they had other jobs to do. They left the cakes.

Marrant turned to walk inside, assuming that whatever Malika had gotten up to in order to annoy him had ended with the large cakes in his yard. He was starting to fall asleep when he learned how wrong he was.

CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG!

More people with more pots and pans heralded the arrival of the pastries. “For the Master Musician!” the card that accompanied read. “Sorry about the neighbors!”

It’s impossible to ignore when wagons full of pastries appear at your neighbor’s house. It is similarly impossible to ignore when your neighbor begins yelling at the drivers delivering those pastries. Or when he yells at the first, second, and third set of people who arrive banging pots and pans.

By the time the rugs were spread out on his lawn, Marrant was beside himself with embarrassment and his neighbors were beside themselves with curiosity. Crowds of people had collected outside his tiny house to see what would arrive next and what he would do about it. Mostly what he was able to do about it was yell futilely. Those delivering the goods weren’t at all inclined to take the goods back and just dumped them on his property. The look of horror on his face when he could hear the first band parading forth in the distance was everything to Malika and from her rooftop vantage point she had to bury her face in her hands to keep from laughing so loudly that someone might spot her. He was pale as a ghost when the marmots arrived, a broken shell of a man. The entire neighborhood, and more, had gathered outside to see what else would arrive at his doorstep. It was hard for the wagons to get through with the number of people standing in the way hoping to see what would happen next. The noise, the spectacle, the disrespect. He knew who had done this and he knew he didn’t have any way to retaliate. He didn’t even know where she had gone. Even the guards who had come to see what was causing the clamor and chaos didn’t know what to do about any of it. So they just watched.

The final delivery was just a messenger with a card. His arrival was punctuated by the sound of clanging pots and pans as well. He held out the card to Marrant who took it with shaking hands. “To My Dearest Master Musician, I propose a scavenger hunt! But I know you must be very tired from the busy day you’ve had being a very important, very serious man so it will be short. Your first clue is in the safe.” He turned, distraught, into his home and opened the safe. It was empty. Everything he had saved for the bigger house he had been eyeing in a better neighborhood? Gone.

 He took a note out that read: “Hope it was as good for you as it was for me. -Malika.” Outside, a trumpet played a sad womp womp and a marmot skittered across his roof.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Blackjack + members have a bet on who can paint Yoongi's nails without getting busted.

Please enjoy this Heist-themed nail painting drabble. LOL

“Shh,” Taehyung whispers, crouching lower. “They’ll hear us.”

“If you keep whispering that loud, they will.” Hoseok pokes his nose over the counter, narrowing his gaze. “It’s truly amazing. Your decibel level hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung scowls. “I can’t help it! That’s who I am.”

“Ta-eeeeeee.”

“No,” mutters Seokjin, under his breath. He cocks the training gun at his side. “Not a fucking word, Tae.”

Taehyung looks longingly at the hall. “But…”

“No,” you whisper, pulling him down. “Lena can wait, Tae.”

He pouts. “But…”

“She’s trying to draw you out,” you hiss. “We split you onto different teams for a reason! Just like you did with me and Jungkook.”

 “Yeah.” Hoseok shifts to sit with his back to the counter. “Speaking of which, I’m surprised Jungkook hasn’t come barreling in here yet, trying to kidnap Y/N for his team.”

With a grin, you twist to see the kitchen door. Five minutes ago, you were chased in here by the opposite team. The opposing team; meaning Lena, Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook. They named themselves Team A. You are Team Seokjin, for reasons unknown, but which Hoseok assured you were solid.

“Team Seokjin always wins,” he said, looking you dead in the eye.

At the moment though, this seems unlikely, given that you are currently hiding behind pots and pans in the kitchen, waiting to be picked off.

“What we need is a distraction,” you say, glancing at Taehyung.

“Y/N, if you wanted me to drop trou, you only had to ask.”

“No, thanks. What I meant is… we need a sacrifice,” you clarify.

Seokjin exhales and lowers his gun. “Y/N is right.”

“I know I am.”

“It’s a noble effort,” adds Hoseok, edging closer.

“Definitely,” Taehyung agrees, gaze locked on the door.

Seokjin and you exchange a glance. 

“Whoever did it would be a hero,” you say.

Taehyung does not move from the floor. “Absolutely.”

Hoseok slowly reaches out a hand. “Imagine the look on Namjoon’s face when he loses…”

Taehyung nods, absent-minded. “Right, so – HEY!” he yells, whirling around when Hoseok nabs his gun.

Before Taehyung can move, the barrel is pressed to his chest. Hoseok grins, cocking a brow. “Thank you for volunteering.”

Taehyung glowers, glancing down at the gun. “No fair,” he whisper-talks. “You’re literally the best shot we’ve got on this team.”

“Right,” you say, scooting forward. “Which is why he isn’t expendable. We need Hobi to cover while we run for Yoongi’s lair. You’ll distract Team A, Hobi will shoot and Seokjin and I make a dash for it.”

“Done.” Seokjin holds out his hand. “Who’s with me? Seokjin on three!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Taehyung frowns. “Have you two given any thought to what you’ll do once you get in there?”

Seokjin and you exchange glances. In truth, you have not. This is the main part of the event, after all. Who in Bangtan can paint Yoongi’s fingernails without him noticing? It started off as a dumb what-if but then, what with Bangtan being Bangtan, it devolved into this. A high-stakes heist where you have all split into two teams, pitted against one another.

Everyone was armed with training guns from the front hall and vests stolen from some SWAT team. Once this occurred, Namjoon gave the countdown and you split down the house. You did not encounter each other until this hall, outside Yoongi’s room.

It is debatable whether Yoongi sleeps at all. This is a part of the challenge – once you enter, you need to either 1) not wake Yoongi while painting his nails, or 2) overpower him long enough to get the nail polish on. Which is why both you and Seokjin need to make it together. One to hold Yoongi down and one to paint. Just in case.

Hesitantly, you glance at the door and a familiar head quickly pulls back from the frame. A low laugh escapes you, training your gun at the hall.

“Come on, baby,” you say, closing one eye. “Come out! I just wanna talk.”

Jungkook’s voice calls back. “Talk to me with this wall in between us! I don’t trust you!”

“Why not? We’re in love, bitch!”

“THEN YOU COME HERE!”

“NO!”

His laugh echoes, choking off when someone elbows him in the stomach. “Ow!” Jungkook mutters, trailing off into silence.

Lena’s voice is clear and distinct. “Focus, loverboy!”

With a grin, you gesture Team Seokjin closer. “Are you ready?” you whisper.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, reaching up to grab a brass pot from the counter. He fits this over his head, nodding seriously. “Ready.”

On Seokjin’s mouthed count, you burst from behind the counter.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Taehyung is first, screaming nonsense as he barrels off down the hall. Literal nonsense. “POOP!” he yells, kicking in the first door. “SARDINES!” He kicks down the second. “BANANA DICK!”

Lena pops out and tackles him to the ground. “Banana hammock!” she yells back, shooting Taehyung in the chest.

Taehyung growls, flipping her over to kick out a leg. Jimin trips over the limb, careening against the wall and nearly knocking over Jungkook. Hoseok is next, shooting over their heads to nab Namjoon in the chest.

Meanwhile, you and Seokjin sprint down the hall. Behind you are footsteps, but you pay no attention. Running in a zig-zag pattern, you reach Yoongi’s door and pull on the handle. The door opens swiftly, swinging out in an arc. For a moment, you hope he is not sleeping. Knowing Yoongi, he probably has both machine guns beside his bed. 

Luckily, he is not asleep. The door swings shut behind you, revealing Yoongi blinking in the light of his monitors. A sandwich is held in one hand, crumbs on his lips.

“Uh… hi?”

The door bangs open again, hitting the wall. “Y/N!” yells Seokjin, barreling in. “Tackle him, tackle him! I GOT THE PAINT!”

Giggling, you rush across the room. Yoongi stares at you both, bewildered until Seokjin knocks him out of his chair.

“OUCH!” goes Yoongi, hitting the ground. “Get the fuck off me, you twerp! I wasn’t even protesting!”

Seokjin pins him down, nail polish held between teeth. “Y/N!” he yells, spitting this onto the floor. “GRAB IT!”

You dash forward, reaching for the bottle when a shadow appears out of nowhere, tackling you on the floor. Jungkook grabs you easily, throwing himself on his back so his weight takes the brunt. You land on top of him with an oomph, breath knocked from your lungs. The nail polish lies untouched on the carpet.

Jungkook grins, caging your waist with his legs. “Nice try,” he growls. “You aren’t getting away from me that easy.”

“Seokjin!” you laugh, looking up. Jungkook has you locked firmly against his body. “Help!”

Seokjin still wrestles Yoongi to the ground, not paying attention. “Stop… fighting… back… you… OW! Did you just BITE me?”

Jungkook pushes his hips against yours. “Fight me harder,” he says huskily.

Returning to him, you glower and try not to show how turned on you are. “You dinkus,” you huff, punching his chest. The blow rolls off him like water and he laughs, baring teeth. “Let me go!”

His eyes glint in the darkness. “No.”

“If you let me go,” you say, leaning down. “I’ll do that thing you like when we get back to the room.”

Jungkook turns his head on the carpet, lips inches from yours. “Promise?”

You are about to nod when there is a sudden commotion in the doorframe. Lena appears, trying to claw her way through but Taehyung loops both arms around her waist, holding her back.

“Let me go!” she squeals.

“Babe, Hoseok shot you.”

“So?!”

“Those are the rules,” Taehyung laughs. “Shit!”

Still holding Lena, he stumbles forward and you realize he has been shot. Jimin leaps into the frame, grinning cockily – but then Hoseok appears, shooting him from behind.

“Aw, c’mon!” Jimin whines, although he steps aside.

Hoseok saunters forward, scanning the room. When he sees Jungkook beneath you, Hoseok points his gun, but you wave him forward. “I have this under control,” you assure.

“Yeah, you do,” Jungkook murmurs.

You turn to look at him, softening when you see his expression – and then his gun presses against your back. Your eyes widen.

“DONE!” yells Hoseok, holding Yoongi’s hand in the air. The right index finger is painted bright blue. “TEAM SEOKJIN REIGNS UNDEFEATED.”

Jungkook’s gun falls as he slumps to the ground. “Fuck.”

“That’s right,” you say, sliding off him to stand. “There will be none of that until you apologize for betraying me.”

“We were on opposite teams!”

“Groveling, Jeon! I except it!”

Then you skip off to join Hoseok, Seokjin and Taehyung in celebration. 

Yoongi still lies prostrate on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “I hate this job,” he groans.

[ Blackjack Masterlist ]

[insomniac-arrest]

my mother did not tell us stories.

I was tucked up in bed nice and neat with my blankets pressed all the way up to my chin and my breathing coming out in an even flow. A smooth inhale, exhale, inhale again, it had all the trappings of real sleep. I’m the oldest so I have to tuck myself in neatly and wait for the others to follow suit. Though, I would guess most of them didn’t have to pretend.

Time must have slipped by, minutes, hours, the silver slash of the moon crossing the sky with a gradual ease of movement. I was somewhere between bruised-eyed wakefulness and a frantic dream trying to suck me down with the force of sticky tar.

Something banged from down below.

A crash like pots and pans, silverware tossed down stone steps, breaking flower vases on concrete. My eyes were fully open and my feet swinging out of bed before I knew what I was doing.

I can’t let the Pastor see this, that’s the type of thoughts I was having at the time. I was the oldest after all. 

I pushed my way out of the blankets just as two little heads poked up from the covers on the beds next to mine, “what’s going on?” Tom slurred his words and asked groggily.

“Sh,” I hushed him, “I’ll take care of it.” I was already out the door and down the stairs that groaned under my steps.

The lights were off in the house and a draft pushed through my thin pajamas. I shivered and rounded the living room to find the kitchen quiet and empty.

“What was that?” More voices came from upstairs, but none of them were the Pastor.

I looked left and right, but all of the kitchen cabinets were firmly shut. I took a step forward and wetness hit my toes.

My eyebrows rose and looked down to see puddles of water across the floor. They were neat silver pools that dribbled from the door to the middle of the kitchen. And then simply stopped. I took a deep inhale and it smelled of damp soil.

I gawked at it for a long second before I heard a wizened voice. “What’s that, Cathleen?”

I turned quickly, “Nothing, Pastor Kirk. A stray cat!” I frowned at the wet spots on the floor. “Let me tell stories to the children and get them back to bed.”

My own mother never told stories even when I knew her, but I had a few left. I told one about a ghost that night.—————-It was a week later and I had a toothache that dully worked its way through my jaw and took up my whole head space. That was probably why I forgot to bow my head at mother Mary when I walked in the door that day. We were always supposed to show our respects.

“Do you show disrespect?”

“No disrespect, sir.” I squeaked.

“Do you want the devil to possess your carelessness? Huh?” I shook my head vigorously and looked for an escape route as little Lilly glanced over at me and mouthed some words.

“I’ll go get dinner started.” I said quickly before the flood gates really opened, “I’ll go collect more eggs. We’ll have cake.”

He just watched me carefully as I fled out of the back door and into the thick grasses. I was breathing hard by the time I was free of his hateful gaze. I slowed when I approached the hen house and paused as I saw Margaret standing besides the little door and not going in.

She was a stoic girl with a handsome chin and small watchful eyes.

I gave her a wary look and examined the brown coop: it seemed the same wooden structure with a steep roof and little ramp up to the door. “Um,” I glanced to Margaret who had not spoken since she arrived at the home. “Is something wrong?”

Margaret pointed carefully toward the door and I shuffled over to look at the small tin handle. It was wet.

I slowly reached out to touch the moisture clinging to it, but jumped when the chickens burst out with a series of loud clucks and noisy bocking. I wrenched the wet door open and the chickens came flooding out. “Girls, girls!” I tried to calm them but all six of the ladies came charging out of the house and into the yard.

Except for one. I stuck my head into the dim little space that smelled of sawdust and animal warmth. And wet soil.

There was one chicken left in the house. She was standing over a very large egg and when I went over to her the egg broke open as if made of a chalk. Easy and strange.

One green scaly leg stepped out, and then another. I cocked my head to the side as a lizard seemed to be looked back at me. A chicken seemed to have laid a lizard.

“Shoo,” I waved the chicken off and looked at the strangest green creature I’d ever seen.

“Cathleen!” Someone called for me. “Cathleen, what are you doing?”

I grabbed the lizard with both hands and stuck it in my pocket. “Nothing!” There were more drops of water near the coop as I exited it.

The Pastor gave a small lecture that night about young woman who stray from the path of the righteous: ones who were did not listen well or have good in their hearts. He finished with his usual speech about the end of the world and judgement coming to us all.

I wasn’t sure about the rest of it, but I remembered what the chicken had just birthed and for once I almost agreed.—————“I can’t hear you!” It was late. The night sky had long since been glittering above and my eyes drooped.

“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you.” Our voices joined together as we repeated the phrases and knelt and then stood and then knelt again.

“Louder!” He said with a look in his eyes you might see in race horses on their last lap. Lilly softly wept beside me.

It was long past our bedtimes and Tom’s knees were bleeding and leaving marks upon the floor.

“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you.”

I was shaking slightly. I was the oldest. But I had already tried to reason with him to release the younger ones, but he just spat “do you want to see your siblings go to hell?” I knelt and then stood again.

My throat was raw and hoarse and I had forgotten in what way we had angered him this time.

My head was bent down and hair loose around my face when color bled across the floors. A rose-red slant of light that spilled and spilled out onto the kitchen tiles.

I looked up just as the full moon was colored a hazy, distinctive crimson. It bathed the entire fields outside like a battlefield. And the grass was wet.

“What is that?” The Pastor’s eyes went wide and he took a step back. My cheek still stung from when I had tried to talk to him earlier. I turned to him now, knees trickling blood and a defiance I didn’t know I had shining through my face.

Bang

The other kids jumped as the loud noise crashed from outside.

“Cathleen?” One of the younger kids reached for my hand and the Pastor backed away toward the corner.

“It’s fine.” I said and looked toward the door expectantly. The smell of damp earth and overturned soil permeated the air.

Bang

It was coming closer. All the signs were there. It had been coming for awhile now.

“What devils have you brought to my door, child?” He looked directly at me and I couldn’t help but be filled with it. Remade in the terror on his face.

BANG

Something banged on the door and shook its very hinges. “Margaret,” I turned to my foster sibling, “let her in.” I glanced back over to the Pastor with my head raised, “mom’s back.”

My mom never told us stories. But she was one.

[alloveroliver]

Gavin x MC “I Had A Dream You Were Mine.”

Rating: Smut

WC: 6,088

A|N: This fic has a confession, then establishing a relationship, first-time sex, shower sex, and some fluffy moments.

Summary: Gavin's AC goes out, and you're the first person he calls. He asks if he can come over, but there seems to be something weighing on his mind. As he finally opens up to you, your day off takes a wholly unexpected turn. 

Mr. Love Queen’s Choice Fanfic

The coffee machine roared to life. It spurted hot water over the freshly ground coffee beans nestled in the filter. You yawned, stepped back, and relaxed your hip against the countertop. Arms crossed over your chest, you felt your mind start to wander. Relaxing, you allowed yourself to wake up gradually. The window in the back of your studio apartment spilled rays of sunlight onto the plush carpet below. You watched the white chiffon curtains flutter as the AC circulated cooled air into the room.

The vibration of your phone made a harsh buzzing sound. A text came in brandishing the phone against the tiles of the kitchen surface. The unexpected noise made you blink out of your sleepy stare to eye who the text was from.

Gavin (10:45 AM): Are you home?

Your left brow rose at his blunt question. You hoped he wasn’t waiting downstairs again to whisk you away somewhere so early in the morning. You peaked at the clock and pretended you didn’t see the numbers 10:45 AM. 

‘Oversleeping was a form of self-care,’ You recited to yourself like a mantra as you typed back.

You (10:46 AM): Good Morning. 😊

You(10:46 AM): Yes I am. Why?

Gavin: [...is typing…]

You waited for the three dots to stop bouncing, but his text was taking far longer than it should.

You were quickly losing a bit of patience with the dots stopping and going on the screen. Setting down your phone, you walked over to the cabinet. A larger than average mug stared you straight between the eyes. You were compelled to grab the monstrosity for your own overindulgence. It could have been misconstrued for a small cereal bowl, but you weren’t the type to judge yourself. Consuming copious amounts of coffee was welcome on days like this where you took time off work.

The tips of your slippers drug across the linoleum, making your way to the brewing coffee machine. The scent of warm grounds permeated the kitchen, sending you to your happy place. However, the happy place was quickly shattered when you assessed the kitchen. Seeing some of the dishes piled in the sink along with a full trash bag you needed to take out was all a massive buzz kill.

Trading the giant mug for your phone, you check Gavin’s text.

Gavin(10:47 AM): Can I come over?

Gavin (10:49 AM): My AC went out last night, and the heat index is rising.

You (10:50 AM): Sure, that’s not a problem.

You (10:50 AM): Do you have a mechanic going over to fix it?

Gavin (10:50 AM): Okay. I’m actually already downstairs.

“I knew it.” You murmur to yourself with a sly smile.

You (10:51 AM): Give me a minute to change. 🙏

You darted off to your bedroom at once. Throwing your phone onto the bed, you kicked off your slippers and took off your oversize t-shirt. Tossing them to the floor, you didn't care where they landed.  You hopped out of your drawstring shorts and hobbled over to your closet. Without turning on the light, you tug a red flower printed dress from its hanger and pull it down over your head. Your heart raced faster than usual. You tried to excuse it with the sudden running you did in your sleepy state, and not correlate it to the hot guy making his way over to your house this very moment.

Dating Gavin had been an adventure in it of itself. He still seemed unreadable between those planned occurrences. It was beginning to get hard to tell how much he truly liked you. Today was obviously a meeting out of necessity, right?

Having your AC go out here, in the middle of the summer, was brutal. Your car seat belt felt like it would give you 3rd-degree burns if you let it touch your skin. Just walking outside was hell. No clouds in the sky meant you were an egg, and the world was a frying pan. You recalled seeing on the news that AC units all over town were going out. Their hardware was unable to keep up with the sudden heatwave.

Shaking your head out of a sudden yawn, you run your fingers through your hair to smooth down flyaways. A few loud bangs against the front door made you wince. He was already off the elevator that fast? You rush to the living room, transferring all your hair to one side.

Scanning through the peephole, you spot Gavin ruffling his hair. He pushed up the sweaty locks then, shaking his head, pushed it back down. You crack to door open and smile at him.

“Please tell me you weren’t just waiting in the hallway this whole time.”

“Okay. I won't.” His face remained unreadable as he locked eyes with you. You let the words sink in as you imagined him sitting against your front door for the past five minutes waiting on your text back. 

You sigh. “Alright well come in. It’s cooler in here.”

Gavin held his motorcycle helmet under his left arm. He then picked up a duffel bag off the floor and carried it in his right. The black bag was adorned with his police unit logo and looked sturdy enough to last a lifetime. He passed the threshold, moving ahead of you. The back of his light blue shirt was dark down the center, slick with sweat from the scorching heat.

“What’s the bag for? You planning on staying the night.” You laugh, but the chuckle got caught in your throat. “You’re not trying to stay the night are you?!”

“No.” He plopped the bag in the entryway and hung his helmet up on the coat rack. A smile touched his lips, and he fluffed up his hair again. “This is a change of civilian clothes and work clothes if I get called in.”

“Oh, are you on-call today?” You shut the door and locked the deadbolt before walking Gavin into the central area of your home.

“I’m sort of always on call, actually. Due to the nature of the department I work for.” Gavin stuffed his hands in his pockets as he made his way to the kitchen.

“That kind of sucks. Never knowing if you are going to have a whole day to yourself or not.” You remembered how this was supposed to be your day off, but this turn of events wasn’t as bad as being called into work unexpectantly.

“It’s my duty. I don’t mind helping people that are in need. Even if it takes away from my free time.”

“Of course. I admire that about you...” You bite your lip and gesture to the coffee pot. “Do you want some coffee? Freshly brewed.”

“Um,” He paused under the vent. The faint breeze from the AC unit tousled his hair, making the sweaty ends shimmer around his face.

“Wait, that was a dumb question.” You let out a small chuckle. “How about a glass of ice water?”

“Yes. That sounds amazing.”

Grabbing a glass, you mull over the past few minutes in your head. What a strange day this has turned out to be, and it’s only begun.

“Was there nowhere else you could have gone? No other friends or family?” You blurt out, making small talk as you pull open the freezer.

“I-” He placed his hand on his hip and shuffled his feet. “I had to see you.”

“Oh?” 

The ice clinked into the empty glass, filling the dead silence.

“I had a dream about you. It was, well I think it was a fever dream but-”

“Fever dream? Are you sick?” Your tone was full of worry. You couldn’t let him get sick if he was going to be called into work at any moment. 

You filled the cup with filtered water from the refrigerator and handed him the glass.

“No, The air conditioner went out while I was asleep this morning. It got so hot, and my dreams became so vivid…”

He took a long gulp of water. The ice rearranged as he tipped the glass up, downing half of it in one breath.

“What was your dream about?” You watched him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand after coming up for air. 

He looked off to the side with a thoughtful pause. Gavin set the drink down on the countertop, and his gaze followed the sweat from the glass dripping down to the side

“I had a dream you were mine.”

“What?! Yours? What do you mean.” Your heart went from resting to sprinting in one second flat. You could feel the tips of your ears begin to heat up.

Gavin closed his eyes and turned towards your form. “That you were my girlfriend and that we were happy.”

You brows shot up but couldn’t stop the smile that spread over your face even if you wanted to.

“Oh like that…” You bit your lip, failing to hide the grin that lit up your features.

“I know I’ve taken you out on many dates, yet we’ve never really solidified anything.” He nodded, locking his amber eyes with yours, and taking a step closer towards you.

With his sudden proximity, you took a step back, pressing your lower back into the countertop. However, you reached out for him at the same time receptively. Gavin’s cheeks were pink from the heat, but they grew rosier with every inch he neared.

“Does that upset you? That I never told you how I feel?”

His salty scent permeated the space. His hands rested on either side of your hips while he brought his forehead down to yours.

“I’ve not been upset, no. I just didn’t think you were ready to take a more… serious step.”

“You don’t think I'm the kind of man that can be serious with the women he cares for?” He spoke softly, not accusatory in any way.

“I don’t know what kind of man you are entirely.” You confessed, and Gavin narrowed his eyes down to you. “But I do know that I’d like to learn.”

He seemed to like this answer. His hand moved up to tangle in your hair while the other rotated your hip against him. Beads of sweat from his nose tickled yours. This wasn’t the first time you two had ever been this close. Each date you’d been on, there was some type of hand holding or, more rarely, a goodnight kiss. But, after every date, there was also the radio silence.

Gavin would be caught up on a new mission, or too exhausted to call you back. You didn’t blame him, though. His job was hard on him, mentally and physically. It was amazing that he was still alive after all the dangerous shit he’d put himself through.

In typical Gavin fashion, he wasn’t waiting for your time together to grow comfortable. In his sudden closeness, he wore his emotions on his sleeve. He inched closer at a snail's pace, making sure there were no signs of you wishing to run away. You wondered how much your heart could take as it sped up double time.

The warmth of his lips was surprising. You didn’t realize just how cold you were in the apartment all alone. Compared to his temperature, you were an ice cube. Gavin’s hand drifted to the back of your head and pressed his lips firmly against yours in a blistering kiss. He held you to him, slanting his lips over your dumbfounded ones.

You were so shocked by his display of affection that you stood there grasping at his t-shirt, eyes wide. His fingers drew patterns on your hip, tiny heart shapes you noted.

“Gavin.” You whispered between his lips. He paused with his mouth hovering just above yours to hear you out. Heat flared in the pit of your stomach. His touch filled the lonely void in your heart, and all you could do was stand there like a deer in headlights. “Oh, Gavin.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips back into his. Gavin made the kiss more demanding as if he were asking you to feel what he felt in equal measure. His heart was bared to you, yours for the taking if you were to choose to accept.

Gavin’s hand trailed up the line of your spine, curling you against him with every heated second that passed. The tip of his tongue preyed on the smallest part in your lips. He teased the seam while entering slowly. His warm tongue mingled with yours, minty from the toothpaste you used minutes ago. It was a slow, searing kiss that made your head spin and knees weak.

His hair began to tickle your face the further he bent you under him. Your heart slammed against your ribcage. It beat against his firm chest while your skin tingled with giddy excitement. Gavin inhaled, turning his head to the opposite side to kiss you deeper. Your hands move up his neck, tousling his sweaty hair, cold to the touch from the short time in the AC.

The coffee machine spurt and drained the rest of the water reservoir onto the grounds. The machine made a short jingle signaling its completed its brewing process. With an audible click, it shut off automatically. Gavin broke the kiss and stood you up, clearing his throat.

He turned on his heel and stole his glass of water off the countertop. The cup emptied down his throat in an instant. He took another breath and placed his hand on his hip.

“Can I take a shower here?” He ran his hand through his hair again, making it stand in all directions.

You licked your lips and nodded slowly. “Of course. Um, let me show you where the towels are.”

Absently, you began to twirl a piece of hair between your fingers trying to will your red cheeks away. Gavin rushed off to the walkway and picked up his duffel bag while you walked to your bedroom. Your hands were shaking as you twisted the knob to the on-suite bathroom.

“Right. I got it. Thanks.” You heard Gavin’s voice from the other room, then the quiet beep of him ending a phone call.

“Is everything okay?” You call out.

“Yes. Everything is fine. That was the AC repairman.” His calm voice filled your bedroom. The implications of him being inside your private space were enough to keep the blush on your cheeks fresh. He tossed his cell phone onto your bed next to yours then dropped his duffel at the end.

“The towels are under the sink.” You whisper, stopping when you notice his hands begin to pull at his collar. “And….” He tugged the damp fabric up his frame, revealing the taut muscles of his lower abdomen. “Soap…”

“Soap is under the sink?” He asked candidly, removing the shirt from his sweaty body.

“Uh.”

He tossed it to the floor and unzipped the duffel bag. You watched his back muscles constrict and flex as he dug through the items. His shoulder blades moved under his skin, rippling the back muscles. His side obliques stretched and flexed deliciously as he shuffled around.

“No, in the shower.”

Gavin pulled out a folded shirt from the bottom of the bag. He turned to look at you over his perfectly carved shoulder. You were ogling, how could you not, and Gavin caught you in the act. You pulled your finger out of your mouth and hid your hand behind your back. Rubbing your thumb over the jagged nail you just bit to shreds you gazed back at him.

“Does it smell like you?” The softness in his voice caught you off guard.

“The soap? Err, I guess it would. Yeah.”

Gavin’s face lit up with a smile. “Okay then.”

He took out another folded item and stood to his feet. He slipped off his shoes next to his bag, balancing himself on the mattress. Gavin walked past you with a calm smile and leaned toward you.

“Oh-” You squeaked before he planted a wholesome kiss right on your unsuspecting lips.

His stance seemed to have meant it to be a quick peck, but the kiss lingered. The longer your lips where locked, the harder it was to excuse yourself and step away.

Your hand slipped up his bicep, not so subtly feeling him up. The man was so tempting it was downright sinful. Did he know what he was doing to you? Did he care? It seemed you also did things for him that you didn’t quite understand. Gavin hadn’t said what he thought was so alluring about you, in fact, he kept his crush on you a secret for almost a decade.

He moved his clothes to one arm and wrapped his other around your waist. He nibbled on your bottom lip, then pressed many kisses along the line of your jaw. You held your breath, resting your hands on his shoulders. Gavin kissed your ear, and you jerked, biting your lip to stave off a moan. 

“Ah- I’m sensitive there.” You warned, pushing your shoulder up to defend yourself. Gavin made a noise and moved to your neck instead. You realized he was laughing, but the chuckle shortly dissipated into breathlessness.

The room was a blur as your feet left the floor. You were soon in your bathroom being placed atop the counter next to the sink.  Gavin tossed his clean clothes to your side. The sunlight poured through the small window in the shower, and the afternoon glow highlighted his handsome features. He had a boyish charm about him yet the body that someone godlike chiseled out of marble.

Gavin pushed you against the mirror, moving his body between your legs with ease. He let out a quiet frustrated groan, and a pang of fear ran through your chest.

“Are you okay?” You ask, cupping his cheeks. You waited for a response, but there wasn’t one for a long moment. “Gavin?”

“Is this-” He started, then paused. He screwed his eyes shut and took a breath. “Are we together now?”

“I, I, I-” You stuttered, embarrassed by his oddly timed question. “Are you asking me to be your... girlfriend?”

He nodded expectantly. His eyes searched your face while he swallowed thickly. “Yes. Will you?” His voice was lower, more soothing as he asked his question again.

You blinked many times, wondering if this wasn’t some elaborate dream your mind came up with and you’d yet to leave your bed today. But, his warmth was real, his tender eyes were real, and all his kisses were very real.

“I’d love to be, Gavin.”

The warm moment shared in the small room swelled your heart. Gavin’s eyes lit up with a huge smile. He moved to hold you in an embrace, crashing his lips into yours in celebration. The kiss was playful, with a nip here and a nuzzle there. However, the giggling and smiles soon melted away, and passion replaced them.

A roll of warmth lit up inside you as his hands began to roam your torso. It wasn’t until his fingers flexed over your breast that you realized you forgot to put on a bra. There was a moment where he froze, but then he continued, and Gavin didn’t seem to mind. Soon the lack of undergarment proved to be more pleasurable than realized. A happy accident you noted. The silky fabric felt good against your skin as Gavin’s fingers tantalized you.

It became clear he knew precisely what he was doing. Gavin pinched the erect nipple, gently rolling it between his fingers. A light gasp escaped you, and he kissed you with quirked up lips. He looked pleased with himself, happy to pleasure you. 

You held him close, running your fingers through his hair. Your tongues swirled together playfully fighting for dominance. Gavin’s lips tore from yours and moved down the line of your neck. He kissed the dip in your shoulder then proceeded to nibble the lobe of your ear. This time you moaned unabashedly, and he sighed with contentment. As he latched on to the skin under your ear, his thumb circled faster over your sensitive nipple.

Gavin began adding pressure. He sucked on your delicate skin before you realized what was happening. A small sizzle of pain registered in your head the moment Gavin removed his lips from your neck. He’d left a small hickey beneath your ear, easily hidden from others by a curtain of your hair.

He groped your chest, moving his lips to your mouth. His other hand resting on your hip began to move down towards your knee. The kisses came faster and faster until lips smacked and gasps escaped.

Trembling fingers moved beneath your skirt. Gavin began retracing patterns, this time on your inner knee. You weren’t sure if it was a silent question, Gavin asking how far you were willing to go. Or if it was that he was setting boundaries for himself. Either way, you tossed all fucks out the window and parted your leg further. This invited him to move closer to your center if that was what he wished.

He moved his hand quickly down your leg and squeezed your thigh in delight. He exhaled like a weight was lifted from his mind. The kissing picked up again, and you didn’t know how much more of this you could take before it was no longer deliberate. Was he trying to rile you up like this? Or were all his movements due to the heat of the moment?

You broke the kiss, hoping to cool off for a second to gain clarity. Gavin rested his forehead on yours, puffing air. You took in a deep breath, hoping to pause long enough to make sure this was what he wanted. His hand continued to caress the bare skin of your parted thigh.

With a gulp, you clear your throat. “A-are you going to take a shower now?”

The low hum of the vent rumbled behind you. The sun slowly lifted in the sky as time passed. Gentle rays of light began to spill into the tiny bathroom, reflecting off the white subway tiles. There was no need to turn on the light switch since the sun lit the room plenty.

“Are you going to join me?” Gavin narrowed his gaze quizzically.

All the air in the room became thick, hard to breathe. You sat there, eyes wide and mouth hung open at his question. A notable booming filled your ears as your heart pounding out of control.

“What.”

What, indeed. What was he saying? Join him? You shook your head and closed your mouth to not drool all over the place.

“Join me in the shower.” Gavin proposed quietly. His heart rate escalating was proven by deep red tinge that spread over his cheeks and burned the tips of his ears.

You were frozen. Words died on your tongue with any retort you jumbled together in your brain as thoughts raced a mile a minute. Could you manage hand gestures? Mime your answer?

In your mind, you threw together an elaborate performance full of over exaggerated facial expressions and hand movements to express your absolute agreement when words failed you. But, a simple nod was all it took to give Gavin the answer he needed. He moved quickly towards the bathtub and pulled the faucet nozzle. Water began to spray over the shower curtain, making a loud enough noise to force a jump from you. The nervous excitement was the one to blame. It awoke the butterflies in your stomach and set your heart of in a runaway beat.

Gavin turned and approached you, sporting some stray water droplets on his bare shoulders. He scooped you off the countertop surface and sat you gently atop the plush rug. His hands lingered over your hips while his lips met the crook of your neck, kissing the fresh hickey he gifted you. Your body swayed with his, curving around his warm touch.

Your breathing picked up as you looked towards to running water. Was Gavin really going to see you naked this soon? You’d just agreed to be his girlfriend and Gavin was all for taking it to the next level. You weren’t going to complain. You’d dated long enough that this was something that was past due. Yet, it still felt exhilarating all the same.

Another rush of heat engulfed your body, something more than the simple jitters. Excitement, nervousness, a hint of rebelliousness all mixed together making your blood pressure spike. He stood behind you and trailed his fingertips up the center of your spine. It felt nice while his nails scratching the part of your back you could never reach, bringing chilled bumps to the surface of your skin.

Gavin found the zipper to your garment and pulled. Soon the fabric covering your shoulders went slack and the dress easily pooled at your feet. Gavin gulped close to your ear before kissing your newly exposed shoulder. He was keeping his cool quite well, except the fact that his hands were trembling as they cupped your bare breasts.

A resounding sigh fell from your lips as you twisted in his grip. Gavin’s amber eyes drank you in before capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Your feet shuffled, and your dress rustled around your ankles. The question of whether to help him out of his clothes or not came to mind. He did relinquish you of your main garment. It was only fair that you help him, was it not?

Decidedly, you ran your hands down his firm stomach towards his jeans. His muscles flexed, reacting to your soft touch as you met the band of his pants. Gavin didn’t speak as you began pulling the button loose from the slit. His chest seemed to rise and fall exponentially faster than before.

The button came loose, and Gavin took over. He moved back and pushed the pants down to his feet along with the boxers he wore. His eyes looked up and down as he stood against you again. He kissed you while walking you back to the tub. Gavin swallowed thickly and pushed the band of your panties down the roundness of your ass with lightning speed. They fell to your ankles, and he lifted you out of them and set you in the shower basin. Your arms wrapped around his neck just as he tugged the white shower curtain closed. 

He let the water pour over the two of you while your lips were locked. Your fingers ran along his scalp, helping the water soak through his sweaty tresses. Your heart still raced, but the warm water soothed your muscles, helping you to relax. Despite being entirely bare with Gavin for the first time, it was a welcome calming sensation. He twirled you around to allow the brunt of the water to soak through your hair next.

His hands began to roam the curves of your body and you, in turn, did the same to him. His skin was soft, pulled tightly over solid muscles. His body was sculpted and rigid in every place you could get your hands on. A droplet of water fell from your hair and ran along the crease of your eye. You broke the kiss to wipe your face to prevent discomfort. Gavin helped by angling you away from the shower-head and moving your wet hair out of your face.

The starfish-shaped grips on the bottom of the tub proved viable at this moment. They kept both of you from slipping and sliding around the slick wet surface. Gavin moved your back against the wall, bending to kiss down the side of your neck towards your chest.

His lips felt electric over your tender skin. He kept his arm around your waist and captured your nipple between his sensual lips. The swirl of his tongue over the delicate nub brought the first sound out of you in several minutes. A gasped turned exclamation when he used his teeth to tug lightly.

A wash of pleasure flooded your body, heightening the touch of his hand that held you close. Water droplets ran down his cheek as he switched sides. He lapped at the other nipple greedily, more aggressively than the prior. Gavin’s hand moved from your waist to grasp your ass. It was too much, but not enough all at once. His hot mouth ran along your chest, up towards your lips again.

He moved his hand from your ass to your thigh and pulled your leg up to wrap around his waist. It wasn’t until his moment that you realized just how turned on he was. Gavin's erection slid along your core as he rubbed himself against your sex. His tongue delved between your lips while his hips bucked. Pushing his solid cock against your helpless clit, he groaned,

“Oh my god,” You moaned between kisses. Gavin rotated his hips, pulling your leg up further to spread your center apart more. “Oh- fuck.” Words left you in sensual cries.

You felt your core heat with each jut of his hips. You essence doubled, coating his cock as it ran along the center slit of your puffy lips. Gavin’s throat flexed, holding back sounds that leaped to his lips. He breathed laboriously into the kisses, moving faster between your slickening thighs.

The warm water was hitting the cooled air making pillars of smog that rolled over the small room. The humid air kept your skin warm enough to be out of the direct spray from the faucet. The temperature was perfect for you, especially in Gavin’s warm embrace. Your hands ran through his hair affectionately, teasing the back of his neck.

Your eye peaked open while kissing when a guttural sound made its way from his throat. The angle of his jawline was sharp and handsome, even this close up. His cock slipped effortlessly along your core, coated in your combined desires. His hips wavered with each of your answering thrusts.

A blush deepened in your cheek as you brought words to your lips. “I’m ready.” You managed a tone just above a whisper.

Gavin’s deep honey eyes shot open as he looked down at you. He nodded, then left a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. It was a stark feeling compared to the heated kisses he had been giving you. But the docile kiss was just as desired as the rest. His fingertips moved along your skin lovingly and longingly. The small gestures swelled your heart, making you feel safer with him than you did before. You knew you were special to him and he didn’t even have to say it.

His hand stroked your thigh before he moved it up his hip an inch and angled himself downward. His cock prodded your entrance, moving with the rhythm of his hips to ease himself inside you gently. You pressed up on your tippy toe and took in a deep breath in anticipation.

The intrusion felt like a pinch for an instant, then bliss the deeper he pushed in. Your walls desperately clenched against him, eagerly accepting him into your needy cunt. Moans from you both echoed off the tile walls. His voice rang true in each grunt and mewl. Your lips begin to seek one another as if you were in perfect darkness.

He crashed his lips into yours and held them there unbreakingly as he sped up his hip thrusts. The feeling of fullness was intoxicating. Each time he pulled his length out of you, you yeared for him again, bucking your hips toward him anxiously. Gavin’s arms wrapped around you protectively as he let his inhibitions go.

His pumping increased along with his ragged breaths. Gavin broke the kiss and cradled your writhing form closer to him in a tight embrace. He nuzzled his nose against your ear, pushing your wet hair out of the way. He gained speed with his new position, moaning louder into the crevasse of your neck.

Your nails dug into his back, leaving tiny marks in his skin. The pressure built within your core and you didn’t know how much longer you could outlast him. Your leg slipped on his hip, but he held you tight with his large hand. The water washed away the sweat that coated him. It left behind a gentle scent of his unadulterated musk. His touch, scent, and the sounds he relinquished helped aid your impending release. The coil in your core began to tighten impossibly tight.

“Gavin-” You mewled his name, making his hips falter. “I’m close, I think…”

It was hard to tell how much more it would take for your body to snap. Either way, letting him know that he was doing a great job at bringing you there was what was important.

He hissed through a groan, pushing you hard against the wall. His hand came up and cupped your chest, rolling his thumb over your pert nipple. The sensation shot straight to your sex, making your hips jerk. Gavin filled you deep with every stroke, stretching your pussy deliciously to the brim.

Once, then twice his thumb teased your chest before a rapid heat engulfed you. It began in your core, making you clench your walls helplessly around his girth. Your volume increased to a loud strangled version of his name.

“I’m- I’m… cuming.” You managed to gasp to beg him not to stop. “Keep going-” 

You moved your hand behind you and patted along the wall. As your back arched towards him, your hand found the sill of the tiny window. You used the ledge to brace yourself as your body pulsated with each surge of pleasure.

His hips swayed, but he never ceased his thrusting. He let out a low groan from deep in his chest, pressing his head into the side of your neck. It wasn’t long after your initial pulsing you felt his heat fill your body. Gavin’s dick throbbed hard against your clenching walls. Then sensation transmitted a wave of pleasure straight through your entire being. Your jaw slackened as you closed your eyes and let his powerful arms become the only thing holding you up.

It was a defining moment between you two. Both were giving your all to the other in a moment of absolute confidence that the other would cherish it. The ripples of pleasure soon stopped, leaving you in an afterglow of emotion and ecstasy. Gavin caught his breath, pulling out of you gradually before letting your leg drop back to the ground.

He held you tight still, giving you a moment to let your leg muscle stretch out. You shifted your weight, testing the stability of your other leg. A sticky warmth began to trickle down your thigh, making you somehow more bashful than before. It was proof that what just happened wasn’t some kind of fever dream and you, in fact, made love to the man of your dreams.

Gavin let out a long sigh and stood up straight. He smiled down at you and stretched his arms above his head, walking back under the shower head. His muscles were more defined than earlier, having gone through a sort of work-out to activate them. Once rinsed off, he gestured to where you relaxed against the wall in a blissed out state.

“Get over here. Let me help you.” His voice was a considerate command.

With a grin, you walked toward him. You and Gavin began taking turns cleaning one another. He washed your hair for you, giving you a scalp massage in the process. He flirted a bit, mentioning the gorgeous speckles of color your eyes. It reminded him of the night sky and calmed him every time he was frustrated.

You reached up as far as you could and washed his hair with your lilac shampoo. Gavin bent down due to the height difference so you could gain access to the rest of his head. He kissed your forehead, tip of the nose and lips in the process. He was far goofier than you’d ever seen him, but it was a welcome sight to behold. The loofa filled with scented coconut soap was passed between the two of you as the shower continued. The water ran cold long before either of you brought up getting out.

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Thanks for reading! I appreciate you all!

Also, holy shit that word count intimidated me. This is my longest fic to date! I hope you guys enjoyed the read!

Masterlist is at the top of my blog~

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Wassail

Well, I don’t know what happened. I didn’t have an idea, I wanted to write something short, but lo and behold the next story for @drawlight‘s advent challenge is the longest and most complicated yet.

I’m rather fond of the AU that I seem to have created here. It came as a pleasant surprise.

12: Caroling (3,379)

Die Hoffnung und Beständigkeit Gibt Trost und Kraft zu jeder Zeit. O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum! Das soll dein Kleid mich lehren.

Aziraphale sighed, applauding with the rest of the audience. “Oh, I do love Christmas carols,” he said, smiling towards the demon standing beside him.

“You would,” Crowley grunted, tapping at the keys of his new-fangled Blackberry. He shot a glare through his dark glasses at the dozen singers gathered under a tree coated with twinkling lights. “Du denkst du bist schlau. Singe etwas das wir alle verstehen können.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale took a step away, adjusting his lapels, hoping no one thought they were here together. “I’ve told you before, if you don’t stop heckling, I won’t bring you along.”

“Promise?” Crowley growled, bending back over the keyboard of his tiny computer.

Aziraphale tutted, turning back to the singers with an expectant smile.

The angel Gabriel from heaven came. His wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame: “All hail,” said he, “thou lowly maiden Mary. Most highly favored lady.”

As soon as the song started, Aziraphale felt his smile fall, though he struggled to keep it in place lest Crowley see.

He didn’t even look up, just snorted, “There’s one I haven’t heard in a while. Let’s go. I don’t want to hear about that wanker.” He brushed past, elbowing his way through the crowd while Aziraphale hurried to catch up. “Hau kultural jabetze da,” Crowley called over his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Aziraphale reminded him as they moved back towards the busier parts of the winter festival.

“Why? He’s your boss, not mine. In fact, I’m supposed to not like him.”

“Still. I would prefer if you remained civil while we were in public.”

Crowley shrugged, brushing his long hair back out of his face, never looking up to acknowledge the carts of street food, the lights, the seasonal entertainments.

“What can possibly be so entertaining about that…that machine?” Aziraphale snapped.

“They put the internet into a phone. Genius!”

“I don’t know what that means,” the angel said, trying to sound as uninterested as possible.

“It means,” Crowley continued blithely, “that I can get into all kinds of trouble from anywhere in the city.” He finally glanced up, long enough to wiggle his eyebrows. “I am going to take spam to a whole new level.”

“Please do not explain that.”

“Well, I need to do something to keep myself entertained!”

“There’s plenty to keep you entertained.”

“What, this?” Crowley waved a dismissive hand. “Consumerism. Gluttony. Really bad music. Nothing real about any of it.”

Aziraphale tried not to look hurt. “Well, isn’t there anything about the season you like?”

The fingers paused in their dance across the keyboard. “I like wassailing, I suppose.”

“Of course you do.” Back in the Middle Ages, wassailing had always ended in gangs of drunken young men demanding food and drink at houses in the villages, causing all kinds of chaos and damage if they didn’t get it. He had been glad when the tradition had died out, and that it had revived as the much more stately and dignified caroling in the Victorian era.

“Now what is that supposed to mean?”

“Only that wassailing is exactly the sort of thing I would expect a demon to enjoy.”

“You don’t need to sound so disapproving.” The fingers typed more furiously than ever.

“I only meant…there are some holiday traditions we’re better off without.” No, that sounded worse. Aziraphale immediately wished he could call the words back.

Crowley finally shoved the blackberry into his pocket. “If that’s how you feel, I think I’m better off without this tradition.” He shot a scowl his curtain of red hair. “Enjoy your festival.”

“Crowley…” but the demon had already stormed away.

--

Aziraphale didn’t hear from him all though December, which really wasn’t a surprise; the demon didn’t bother to come visit on New Year’s, which was unusual, but not alarming.

As the month of January began to pass, though, he grew nervous. The last time they’d parted angrily, they’d wound up not speaking for over eighty years. This disagreement surely hadn’t been so bad, Crowley couldn’t still be upset six weeks later…and yet still, no word.

Finally, on the 17th of January, Aziraphale called Crowley’s flat.

“…you know what to do, do it with style. <beep>”

“Crowley. Crowley! I know you’re there, don’t ignore me. Crowley!”

A long pause, then…

“What is it, Angel?”

“There you are! I was beginning to think – oh never mind.” Aziraphale had promised himself to be calm and reasonable. “Where have you been?”

“Indulging in holiday traditions we’re better off without.”

“Really! Crowley, there’s no need for you to be…stand-offish.”

“I’m not being stand-offish. I’m in a great mood. Very sociable.”

“Are you.”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t approve, would you?” A heavy sigh. “Look, Angel, I don’t want to argue. I have people to meet. We can talk later.”

“People?” But the line was dead. Crowley had hung up on him.

Now Aziraphale was furious. He very nearly miracled himself to Mayfair to give Crowely a piece of his mind. Then again, there was the slight possibility that something demonic was afoot, in which case the sudden arrival of an angel would cause rather a large disaster.

If that was the case, though, why wouldn’t Crowley have said something? No, he hadn’t even tried to speak in clever code. This wasn’t business, this was him giving Aziraphale the brush-off.

After pacing furiously across the book shop for five minutes, the angel reached his decision.

He opened up a map of London and concentrated on a bit of magic he’d lain down decades ago, in case Crowley ever needed to be rescued from his own foolish risks. After a moment, he was able to sense the exact location of the Bentley – nothing was visible, the trick was all in his mind, but using the map he could track it as it traveled through the city.

Except that, almost immediately, it turned onto a major road and drove southwest, crossing out of London entirely. Aziraphale fumbled until he found a larger map of southern England. This would be cruder, but with some concentration he could still detect the car racing through Surrey, Hampshire, Wiltshire, and Somerset.

When the Bentley finally came to a stop, it appeared to be in the middle of nowhere.

Where was that atlas? Aziraphale flipped through map after map. Not Bath. Not Taunton. Not Wells or Glastonbury. He finally settled on a village named Chilton Stoke, not even four hundred people. What in Heaven’s name was Crowley doing there?

The Bentley didn’t move for half an hour. Or for an hour.

After more than ninety minutes, Aziraphale decided he should investigate.

--

Teleporting to a strange location took ten minutes of preparation, even with the Bentley as a focus. Aziraphale arrived as subtly as possible, but there was nothing demonic going on at all.

The Bentley sat outside the village post office. There didn’t seem to be anyone about, but he could feel Crowley somewhere out among the farms, and started in that direction.

The air was chilly, but clear and crisp, the sky just starting to darken towards sunset. There were plenty of tracks across the thin layer of snow that coated the fields, grinding the pure white into a brown and grey slush. Aziraphale turned to follow that up the hill and into the orchards.

A shift in the wind brought the sound of shouting, but laced with laughter. He crept closer, moving from one tree to the next.

The crowd seemed to include every man, woman and child from the village, gathered around the largest, oldest tree in the orchard. They were shouting, jeering – a few banging pots and pans or other noisemakers. Children threw wads of snow up among the branches and there, moving from one limb to another, taunting them, catching the snowballs and throwing them back down, was Crowley.

Crowley, glasses off, golden eyes shining for all to see, garland of winter greens hanging around his neck.

“Ha! Is that the best you can do? I’m not even trying!” Another snowball sailed past his head, and he slid across the fork of the tree as easily as if he were on the ground. “I’m going to have this whole field blighted by morning, and then where are you going to be?”

The crowd booed this, but much in the way one boos the villain of a pantomime. Crowley waved his arms, encouraging it.

Then, the crowd shifted to cheers as a young lady with a wreath lain across her hair began to climb the tree. Crowley gave one of his overdramatic cries and backed further away up one of the branches.

“Evil spirit! You are not welcome in this village!”

Crowley gave a look of exaggerated shock. “Get him, Liz!” called one of the children in the crowd.

“And what, exactly, do you plan to do about it?” Crowley hooked his hands across a branch and dangled bonelessly, grinning at the young lady.

“I call upon the soul of this tree to reject you and your curse! I – oh,” she leaned down and someone handed up a large bowl, which she gripped in both hands. “I shall waken this tree, and all the trees in the orchard, and your evil will not stand!”

She pulled a piece of bread soaked in something brown and dripping and pressed it to a sharp twig so that it dangled. The people gathered below cheered again and began to sing.

Huzza, Huzza, in our good town The bread shall be white, and the liquor be brown So here my old fellow I drink to thee And the very health of each other tree. Well may ye blow, well may ye bear Blossom and fruit both apple and pear. So that every bough and every twig May bend with a burden both fair and big May ye bear us and yield us fruit such a stors That the bags and chambers and house run o’er.

All the while, the young lady moved across the tree, spearing more bits of bread on twigs. Crowley darted around, making a show of alternately hiding from and trying to scare her. But every time she nearly lost her footing on the slippery bark, his hand would reach out and steady her, just for a moment.

When the song ended, she announced, “The blessing has been made!” and climbed quickly down to the ground, where several young men were pouring more liquid at the base of the tree.

“Attack!” someone shouted.

Suddenly the air was filled with sound – everyone screamed, or banged their noisemakers, and the children threw a concentrated volley of snow at Crowley. When one struck his chest, he flung his arms out dramatically and fell from the tree.

Everyone cheered, several small children crowding close around the fallen demon.

“Alright, ALRIGHT! You got me!” The crowd parted, and Aziraphale could see Crowley sitting up, grinning like mad, snow thick in his hair. A five-year-old child appeared to be trying to put him in a chokehold, but was unable to move much in thick jacket and scarf. “Fair cop. This orchard is officially uncursed. Congratulations.”

He jumped to his feet and pointed at the large tree.

Apple-tree, apple-tree Bear good fruit, Or down with your top And up with your root!

There was another round of applause, and Crowley made a show of bending over and taking a deep breath. “Right. Who’s next?”

“You know perfectly well,” snapped an older man – at least seventy.

“Barnabas? Aren’t you dead yet?”

The old man laughed. “That’s no way to talk to your elders! I’ll outlive you.”

“That’s what your grandfather used to say, too. Fine then, you try and catch me, or you’ll have the biggest worms in your apples in all Somerset.” And Crowley turned and ran – straight towards Aziraphale.

He tried to get out of the way, but there was no place to hide. And Crowley spotted him almost immediately, stumbling to a halt under the tree. “Angel. What are you doing here?” The smile, the humor, the glint in his eyes – all gone now. He scowled.

“What am I…what are you doing?”

Crowley shrugged, looking down at his foot as he dragged his heel through the snow. “Wassailing.”

“That…” Aziraphale waved his arms, trying to indicate the drama, the apple trees, the strange songs that had nothing to do with the winter season. “That is not wassailing!”

“What? Course it is. I’ve been doing it for over five hundred years.”

“Five hundred years?” It was too much to take. “You’ve been doing this for five centuries? Why did you never say anything?”

Crowley shrugged. “Wasn’t sure you’d approve. And you didn’t.”

For a moment, the angel’s mouth just hung open. “My dear fellow, I assure you, this is not what I pictured when you said you enjoyed wassailing.”

“Oh.” He looked up, cocking his head, expression carefully blank.

“Hey! You gotta run!” came a shout from one of the children. “We can’t chase you if you don’t run!”

“Listen, I kind of have a whole…thing here. Can we talk later?”

“I suppose we must.” Aziraphale’s mind was in a whirl.

“Great. Uh. Back in the village, wait by the church. I’ll see you after.” Without waiting for a reply, he spun and ran off through the trees. The crowd followed behind, singing another song.

Here we come a wassailing Among the leaves so green, Here we come a wandering So fair to be seen. Love and joy come to you, And to you your wassail too, And God bless you and send you a happy New Year…

--

“It started, oh, 1467 or so,” Crowley began, slumping into a seat in the little reception hall next to the church. The whole village had gathered inside, talking, laughing, sharing mugs of mulled spiced cider served from a large bowl by the door. This, Aziraphale had been told, was the wassail. He’d remembered something like it from centuries ago, but this recipe was entirely different.

It had been so strange to see the crowd returning from the orchards, singing, Crowley swaggering in the middle as if he belonged. Every once in a while, someone would come by and speak to the demon, either congratulating him or making some vague threat about next year. He took it all in stride, even when a few slapped him on the shoulders.

It was incredible. Aziraphale had never seen him so relaxed. Smiling, meeting people’s eyes, letting them touch him without flinching away.

“What happened in 1467?”

Crowley took a swig of his drink. “I was sent out here to blight the farms, as you might expect. Stupid assignment. No Temptation involved. What do they even think I am?”

“Absolute waste of your talents.”

“Yes! See? Exactly. But I snuck out there and did my job. Or tried to.” He chuckled, looking around the room with something approaching fondness. “Bunch of idiot humans caught me at it, tried this ancient ritual to raise the trees against me.”

“And it worked?”

“No! Throwing bread at trees and shouting? Of course it didn’t work!” Crowley took another drink, but he couldn’t hide the way his face lit up at the memory. “But they spent the whole night chasing me around the orchards and I couldn’t do my work. So I agreed to leave them in peace.”

Aziraphale leaned against his hand, studying Crowley’s face. He knew that expression. It was the same one that lit up his own face whenever he thought of learning the gavotte with his friends at the club, a hundred years ago. “You had fun. You enjoyed it.”

“Well. I.” Crowley suddenly fumbled for his glasses, but paused with them halfway to his eyes. “I suppose…yes, I did.” He folded them back up, placed them on the table. “They weren’t afraid of me. Do you know how often I meet humans who aren’t afraid of me?”

“So you came back. Every year.”

Crowley sighed, turning to take in the people surrounding him. “Eighteen generations. I know we’re not supposed to get attached. And it’s been hard sometimes. But…one day a year…I don’t know. I need another drink.” He stood up and walked away before Aziraphale could stop him.

As he waited for Crowley to return, Aziraphale realized people were staring at him. No, glaring. He tried for a friendly smile, but that only made them scowl worse.

Suddenly, the young lady with the wreath in her hair sat beside him. “Are you here to cause trouble?” she demanded without preamble.

“I – no, I’ve never intentionally caused trouble in my life.” She seemed to believe him about as much as Crowley would have. “Let me see, was your name Liz?”

“I’m the wassail queen,” she said, as if that gave her authority over all supernatural entities. “I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s nervous. He’s unhappy. You make him unhappy.”

Aziraphale gasped, his heart clenching in his chest. “No, I…I don’t think I do.”

“Then why is he like this?” She glanced over at where Crowley stood in the corner, holding his mug of wassail, not looking at anyone. It was very much how he usually looked in crowds.

When Aziraphale didn’t respond, she looked him up and down. “You’re like him, but not. Did you threaten him? Are you going to try and take him away?”

“Goodness, no! I would never!” He tried to think how much it would be safe to tell these people, who seemed so familiar with Crowley. “I…I am in this world as a force for good, and –”

She waved her hand. “I know. That’s why I’m talking to you. We all know exactly what he is. But he’s our evil spirit. So you leave him alone or you’ll find out exactly what we’re capable of.”

Aziraphale raised his hands in alarm. “I think you have entirely the wrong idea.” He lowered his arms, rubbing his palms together. “Crowley and I…we’ve known each other a long time. A very long time. I would not…That is…I don’t wish any harm on him, either. I suppose he’s my evil spirit, too. I just never knew about any of this.” He looked again at Crowley, and found he couldn’t look away.

Liz watched for a moment, eyes darting between the angel and the demon. Suddenly she grinned. “I think I did have the wrong idea. My mistake. I was pretty nervous when I brought my girlfriend home to meet the family, too.”

“I – what?” Aziraphale turned to her in alarm. “I have no idea what you…we’re not…”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you do and you are. For crying out loud, it’s the twenty-first century. No one cares about that anymore.” She stood up. “Tell him if he wants to bring you next year, we’ll find a role for you. I hope you’re good at falling out of trees.”

After a great many steadying breaths, Aziraphale picked up his mug and walked over to join Crowley.

“For five centuries, you never said anything. Until this year. You wanted me to know. You were trying to find a way to tell me and I…overreacted.”

Crowley shrugged. “I guess I knew what you thought I meant. But… I didn’t want you to disapprove of this. I shouldn’t care but –”

“My dear, of course you should care. This village is important to you. You didn’t want me to belittle it.”

“I know I always insult things you like.” His eyes were locked onto his mug.

“You do.” Aziraphale tried to meet his gaze. “But I know you don’t mean it…all of the time. And it’s so rare for you to find something meaningful.” He stepped a little closer. “I’m glad you found this place. I only wish you’d brought me here before. I would very much like to meet them.”

“You…you like them?”

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale glanced around the room. “I don’t know what it is, but this place, these people, suit you very well.”

The smile that had been missing from Crowley’s face started to return.

Aziraphale raised his mug. “Waes hael.”

Crowley raised his in return. “Drinc hael.”

--

(Translations and notes: After “O Tannenbaum,” Crowley shouts “You think you’re clever. Sing something we can all understand.” After “Gabriel’s Message,” he says “This is cultural appropriation” in Basque, the carol’s original language. Both are translated via Google Translate so I don’t know how accurate they are.

The last bit of dialogue translates to “Be in health” (Middle English) and “Drink and be healthy” (Anglo-Saxon). I’ve committed a rather egregious violation of linguistics here just to avoid typing a thorn. Mea culpa. These phrases are actually a greeting and response, not a toast – Wassail didn’t become a Yuletide toast until much, much later. Really my crimes just continue to accumulate.

I tried to include all the meanings of wassail: a rowdier version of caroling, an apple orchard ritual performed shortly after New Years, an alcoholic drink made with apples, a toast, and a greeting. Who knew it was so versatile?

Finally, I’ve never actually seen an orchard (or apple) wassail, but I had a lot of fun researching them. This one is meant to be more of a game between Crowley and the village, so I played pretty fast and loose with the traditions.

You should definitely call this an AU, one in which Crowley has a home and people he cares about long before the Apocalypse arrived. I wonder how that will affect things in the next few decades…)