#anyway. cold winter day wrapped up in a big scarf holding hands in the city going to get coffee together and then people watching in the

[abigail]

not to sound desperate and needy but i wanna hold hands with someone as we walk around the city together so baadddd oh my goddd

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I’m not sure if you have something planned for this already but wouldn’t it be the height of irony if Tooley got monched on by a starved Chris when he forgot to drug him? Just opens the door and whoops! He eaten!

CW: Whumper death, drunkenness, some dehumanization, blood drinking, bit of gore, vampirism, some very light catholicism

-

New York City, 1936

KING EDWARD VIII ABDICATES THRONE British Monarch to Wed American Socialite Wallis Simpson

Tooley kicks at the sodden, half-frozen newspaper stuck to his shoe, grunting with the effort it takes to dislodge it. His hands are buried deep in the pockets of his thick woolen coat, and he ignores the envious stares of others whose threadbare outfits are patched, whose gloves are little more than rags wrapped around their not-quite-frostbitten fingers.

Instead, he pulls his scarf up higher, tucks his chin beneath its knitted warmth, and finally manages to send the scrap of paper with its water-stained black-and-white image of a stern-faced soon-to-be ex-king and his Baltimore lover into the street, where it sticks in a puddle and soaks clean through.

The old-timers say a heavy rain is coming, citing their aching joints and bones. It's been a wet winter already, and the absolute last thing New York needs is more rain.

Tooley plans to be holed up in his nice warm little house for the whole of it. He's sold three paintings in a month, and he can spend the next few weeks on the next one until his hands want to drop right off his wrists without having to distract himself with petty concerns like money.

The liquor bubbles warm inside him, and even with the frigid air he's broken a sweat along his back, trickling to his waistband, almost a tickle. He stumbles a little, catches himself, coughs out a laugh as the cold air burns deep into his lungs. It can't penetrate the hazy heat of the drink, though.

Mel's always has the best whiskey, and Tooley has the green these days to pay for the very best indeed. He's spent what might be a whole month's pay - if he weren't the luckiest artist in New York - in a single night.

You might say he's made a deal with the devil.

He pulls the brim of his fedora down, shielding his brow from the bit of freezing moisture speckling his cheeks. He struggles not to giggle like a child.

"Got a bit to spare for a hungry man?" A rasping voice calls out from an alley as he passes. "Help me feed my family, sir? I'm out of work, sir! Got three little ones with hungry bellies!"

Tooley ignores him.

There are crowds like that everywhere these days, always pressing for help, for a little something more and more and more. Men out of work, men in bread lines, women with tired faces and sad children. He's had just about enough of it.

They're calling it a depression, and he finds the term apt enough, considering it seems the whole country's been tumbled into a hole and can't find its way out.

He'd take his muse to Europe and paint there if it weren't for the echoing tension that bleeds over across the sea. Every nation he's idolized for their arts is trying to posture at each other. Rattling sabers while the people sigh heavily and keep washing their laundry, like always.

Tooley was a child when the Great War tore his own family apart - losing an older half-brother to the pointless trenches, a father to the mustard gas that ate his lungs to pieces, a mother to her desperate, sharp grief at her husband and stepson's loss.

The War had rendered him alone in the world before he was even twenty, though he'd been too young to hardly understand it and it had had nothing to do with him.

Wars were for rich men to send poor men to fight in, and Tooley is hoping to have enough wealth to maybe just float right past a new one, if the rumors beginning to swirl came true and Europe is going to erupt. Surely, though, no one would let a second war as horrible as the last happen.

Surely not.

Still, even so, he can simply disappear if they try to call him up to fight. He has no one left to lose, after all. No one to fight for, no one to care for. No one but his pretty little model, all locked away, his to keep.

Tooley takes a sharp left and the streets begin to change from the harsher gray of the city proper into neighborhoods, houses crammed tightly together. It's not the best part of town - Tooley's parents weren't the wealthiest, and he doesn't live like a gentleman, he's got no need to, it's not how he thinks a proper artist should live anyway. Have to keep up the image of the nearly-starving creative genius, after all.

There are still lights in some windows, despite the late hour. Tooley isn't the only one drunk at midnight and still moving.

It's a mile or so from the start of his street to where his house is nestled between two others, close enough he could reach out his kitchen window and touch the brick of the home next door. He smiles a little. His nose aches with the cold at the tip of it, but that's nothing to worry himself over.

He's home.

It takes him four tries to unlock his front door, the key jabbing into wood and brass too far to one side or the other. He laughs, breath puffing white clouds into the air, his ears burning with the cold where his hat doesn't quite cover them.

Good thing he's not with a woman, tonight, if his aim's so bad with just his hands.

The thought makes him laugh harder, nearly a guffaw, loud enough that he's sure he's woken a neighbor or two. It's not the first time.

Finally, the key slides home and the lock clicks and Tooley moves inside. The house is chilled in the entryroom, but as he slides his coat and fedora off to leave them on the coat rack and moves into the kitchen, towards the back, he can feel the warmth slowly trickling from the ticking radiators along the walls.

He's due for a coal delivery in the next couple of days, and boy, he's going to need it with the weather the way it's been.

Tooley heads for his perfect little secret, the vampire held in the backroom, once a sort of servant's bedroom for some family that had owned the home even before his own parents did. It's his studio, now, and the place where the little vampire boy is kept.

He unlocks that door, too. A key, a deadbolt, a little sliding lock at the top for added safety.

"Here, kitty kitty kitty," He slurs, and laughs again, delighted at his own little joke.

There's a scrape and a rustle, and Tooley steps back to let the vampire boy move forward, out of the freezing unheated room - Tooley only turns the radiator on in there when he himself is working, it's not like dead things care about being warm after all - and into the kitchen proper, with its little two-person table.

The boy is looking dirty - he's due for a bath, long overdue honestly. Good things he doesn't sweat enough to stink.

His hair hangs lank in his eyes, closer to dark copper than the new-penny shine Tooley prefers. There are smudges along his cheeks, marring his perfect freckles. He's draped in a sweater patched badly where his elbows have worn holes right through, pants that are tied with a rope since Tooley sure isn't going to waste money on a belt for a corpse.

"Is, did, did you, um, did you bring me food?" The vampire boy looks up at him, eyes glinting a little in the dimness, that unsettling cat-like glow-in-the-dark effect. His little fangs flash, too. "I'm... I'm, I'm hungry, Tooley."

"I know you are, bloodsucker."

"It's, it's been, um, it's been weeks, Tooley-"

"I know, I know. Shut your trap." Tooley ruffles his hair, then pulls his hand back with a grimace as he remembers how dirty and greasy it's gotten, walking away to go to the sink and wash his hands. "We'll get t'that. I met with someone very important at th' bar tonight, and first things first, you and I are going to celebrate."

The boy moves slowly, staying half-crouched - he's been hit before, when Tooley didn't want him to stand all the way up. He settles himself against the wall, head tilted to the side. His cheekbones cut sharp angles in his face, edging down to his narrow chin.

Those big green eyes follow Tooley everywhere he goes.

"Celebrate what?" He asks, and Tooley wonders just how old the ridiculous little thing is. He'd said early aughts, hadn't he, on when he was turned? So he'd be, what, in his forties really?

Funny.

Was he locked up during the Great War?

He's still a pretty teenager, but he's probably closing in on fifty. Tooley's twenty-some years younger and looks infinitely older, in his own estimation.

Tooley should look into vampirism, seems an excellent way to hold onto your looks, doesn't it? He wonders if the boy knows how to turn him. They could make beautiful work forever...

Hm.

Something to ruminate over when he's hungover in the morning.

"New commission. I'm taking a few weeks off, give us both a break, but I've got the basic details. I'll pick up a broad, get her all set up for modeling, we'll make us a mint, sweetheart." He moves to the counter, picking up the half-full bottle of gin he keeps there, taking a swig and grimacing, coughing. There's a rattle in his lungs these days he doesn't like much.

"You'll, you'll kill her?" The vampire watches him. He looks hungry, with all those sharp lines emphasized, as though he were a painting himself still in progress, with the outline still written in graphite showing through the colors. He's pale, painted in wash, not yet turned to vivid velvet intensity with oils.

"'Course. You think any of my models would stay alive anywhere near you?" He laughs at the very idea, missing the vampire's little flinch as he turns away. He pulls a loaf of bread from the breadbox, already starting to stale but that's all right, he's going to toast it over the stove anyway. The world swims around him from the liquor, and he catches the counter with one hand to keep himself upright.

The feeling brings another laugh out of him.

The little vampire smiles faintly in echo of it. He has to work to get the stove to gas, narrowing his eyes as it struggles, sputters, before finally a little flame flares up. Just enough to give off a little heat for the toast.

"Fuck. Drank too much. Or not enough." He laughs again, and pulls a knife from the knifeblock, the sharp serrated thin blade best for slicing through the heavy sourdough he buys from a woman down the block. Bit of toast, pat of salted butter, that'll get him through to morning when he can head down for eggs and bacon at Paulie's diner.

Maybe he'll even buy some extra for the hungry men who hound around the doors. He can be a philanthropist.

As he slices, the knife slips off the stale, hard crust and cuts right through the back of his hand, a long line immediately welling with bright red blood. He groans, irritated, and sets the knife down, turning to run cold water over it as the pain flares bright, but slightly muted from his drunkenness.

There's a rustle behind him, and Tooley's mind only belatedly begins to allow alarm to trickle through the warm fuzz of the gin and whiskey. He slowly turns around.

Where the vampire boy had been curled against the wall, a bundle of skinny bones and too-big clothes, there's... nothing.

Tooley glances to one side and sees the boy crouched on the floor by the edge of the lower cabinets, his hands pressed into the ground. He moved five feet in less than a second.

His eyes are flared, wide and with pupils burying the iris in black. He clicks, softly, tongue against teeth in an inhuman way.

Click-click-click-click.

click-click-click.

How'd he move so fast?

"Shit," Tooley whispers. "When's the last time I fed you?"

The vampire doesn't answer, only stares, unblinking, muscles tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing. He clicks again.

His lips pull back from his teeth and those fangs that seem so cute and little on every other day suddenly look long, like daggers, dripping a shimmering venom to the ground.

Tooley tries not to blink, too, but his eyes dry and dry and dry and eventually he can't help it. His eyes close, a fraction of a second, and flare open right away.

Not fast enough.

The vampire leaps and Tooley grunts at the impact of the small bony body against his own, his lower back smacking into the line of the counter with a flash of pain. The bread and knife both clatter to the ground.

Panic comes, but it doesn't help. He's still groping to get at another knife when the vampire's fingernails dig into his scalp, grip into his hair and jerk his head to the side to bare his throat.

"Hungry," The vampire boy hisses. "Hungry, Tooley. Hungry."

"I-I know, just, just don't blow your wig, gimmee a minute, I can get you something, just hold on-" Tooley's voice is thin from the harsh angle his neck is being held at, and he swallows, seeing in a bleary haze the way the vampire's huge eyes are focused on the movement of his adam's apple, the bob of his throat.

Can he see the blood pulsing there?

He puts his hands up against the vampire's chest to try and push him off, but it's like pushing against rock. He thinks about painting the vampire as a kind of young Prometheus for a dandy from Boston, tied naked to a rock to be pecked at by eagles, and wonders if the mythological man ever tried to push the rock itself, and if it failed as miserably for him as it does for Tooley now.

"There's blood in the shed out back, just let me go and I'll grab it for you." He pitches his voice soothing and slightly patronizing, like speaking to a whining dog. "Okay, kitten? Just two minutes and you'll be fed, right as rain."

The vampire pauses, hesitates, and Tooley feels his hands working at Tooley's hair and one shoulder, like a cat kneading into your lap before they settle. His little stray. His breathing starts to ease, his heart to slow down, the first rush of panic subsiding.

The world still spins a little, but the rush of adrenaline is settling things into something more solid, wiping away the liquor.

"I'll put you back in your room and go get it for you, it's right outside, good and cold," Tooley coos, and realizes too late it isn't what he should have said.

"There's blood right here, and and and, and, and it's living," The vampire boy says, eyes wide and inhuman, and he's absolutely gorgeous. "Your, your, yours is hot."

Tooley would paint him like this, all feral instinct overwriting the living corpse of an anonymous Irish immigrant who died dozens of years ago. A metaphor, maybe, for the way some of the children who come here lose all their European culture and get boorishly American, and-

The vampire bites down, and all thoughts of art and culture flee from Tooley's mind.

The liquor holds off the pain so long the venom hits before he even feels the way those sharp teeth have breached his skin. He goes limp, dropping in a heap to the floor. He thinks he hits his head on the loaf of bread before it knocks into the floor.

They feel about the same level of hardness.

The knife is right next to his head, lying there, shining in the yellowed lamplight, with its carved wooden handle.

All he has to do is move his hand a few inches to reach it.

Just a few inches.

He tries, desperately, to tell his fingers where to go.

The vampire sucks hard at the wound in his neck, pulling blood from his veins like a man drinking an egg cream after a long hot day's work, and Tooley groans. He can feel the press and pull without the pain, and it's the strangest thing he's ever felt. Stranger than those he's gone to bed with.

The venom makes his limbs feel like stones, weighed down to motionless. He struggles even to swallow saliva, to take a deep breath. His heart never races again with panic. He isn't able to feel it any longer.

Those sharp little fingernails dig hard into his shoulders, the weight of the vampire settled on him, straddling him. A little flirty thought - at least buy me dinner first - makes its way across his mind, barely coherent, slow as molasses.

The vampire starts up his soft rumble, the vibration filtering in through into Tooley's body. It seems like it makes him feel even more frozen, heavy as the ocean and weightless at once.

His eyes are on the ceiling, and he realizes how long it's been since anyone cleaned the corners where cobwebs have grown and grown. They need swept away.

Funny how he never noticed before. Too busy with his art.

There's a moment where Tooley is surprised to look down at himself, as if he's floating somewhere near the ceiling staring down at his own open eyes. When he needed not to blink, he couldn't stop himself, but now the body he is looking at just stares and stares and stares, unseeing, unblinking, unbreathing-

Oh.

As soon as the realization hits, Tooley's awareness of himself as a body he can observe is gone.

There is darkness, and then a point of terrible final light. He feels the grasping of bloodied hands.

And he's gone.

The vampire drinks until the blood stops pumping, until the heart beneath his kneading hand is still. Then a rough tongue laps at the wounds, finding the last few droplets there that still sing with life.

The vampire pulls back, skin flush with life, no longer white as snow. His freckles stand out, scattered like constellations of stars over his skin. The dead man beneath him has all the paleness he had before, they are switched, swapped death for life.

He wipes the blood from around his mouth and looks slowly upwards, breathing in deep gulps he doesn't need but which feel so, so good.

He moves to the stove, to turn it off, but he doesn't quite turn it off all the way. An odd smell fills his nose and the vampire's nostrils wrinkle, but he doesn't know what the scent is, and he simply pulls Tooley's coat on before he leaves, door unlocked.

A few minutes later, a man with his hands over a barrel fire looks up to see a redheaded teenager in a woolen coat far too large for him move under a streetlamp, pausing to look up at it as if surprised by how bright its light is.

He blinks, and the man squints.

The young man's mouth is open, as if scenting the air by letting it roll over his tongue. Before the man can quite understand what he is looking at, the boy's mouth closes and he turns to look at the man. As his eyes shift from being lit by the lamp to draped in shadow, though...

They glow.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," The man whispers, crossing himself hurriedly. "Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, b-be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil-"

The boy looks right at him, head tilted. The flames of the barrel flicker, hissing a little when raindrops start to fall. His lips pull back from his teeth and there are an animal's fangs there, plain as day.

The man feels pure horror at the sight of a demon walking free and unfettered in New York City. He grabs at the cross he wears around his neck and holds it out, his voice trembling. "May G-God... rebuke him, we humbly pray-"

"I, I, I hope that works for you," The boy says, and his voice is soft, and there's almost a lilt of the old country there that the man recognizes, not quite his own but not far off. "It never d-did for, um, for me. Don't worry. I'm... I'm full. You're, you're, you're in no danger from me. When, when, when, when... when did you come here? To this place?"

The man swallows around a lump in his throat, and yet he finds himself compelled to answer honestly. "Two years past, give or take. Came with m'wife and baby girl."

"From where?"

"... Kerry," He says, against his will. He can't seem to hold back the words. "And my wife grew up in County Cork."

The boy smiles, and his horrid teeth disappear when his lips press together. He looks for all the world like any other young man, a bit skinny perhaps and in need of a good meal or three, but no danger to anyone.

But the man has seen the demon that he is, and he finds himself grateful for the fire between them and the cross still in his hand, the shield of St. Michael and the cloak of Christ Himself.

"My, my, my, my parents were from County Cork," The demon boy says, lightly. His lilt is slightly stronger. "Wonder if we're cousins, your your wife and I. Maybe so. Stay home, um, after dark. Don't, don't, don't work when the sun is, um, is down."

The boy turns and walks away.

The man realizes with a start that in the midst of a chilly December night, the boy's feet are utterly bare. He steps over ice like he could walk on water.

There was blood smeared on the back of his coat.

The man flinches as he hears a sudden boom, close enough that he feels it in his chest as well as hearing the sound. A moment later a woman runs by shouting that a house has caught flame, to call for help.

The man looks back at the way the boy went.

He's gone.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[spencersawkward]

hi! today is my birthday (yeah, a day before his) and as a big fan of yours that i am, i know that you made a one-shot for his birthday, but could you do it like it would be if it was your first birthday with him? i reeeally appreciate and love your work! keep doing this, you're amazing! thank you!!

ok the daddy kink gotta go on pause bc we have an EMERGENCY called it's a baddie's birthday! 🥳 happy birthday babe i hope it's as special and lovely as can be! also thank you that made my day of course i'd be happy to write a one-shot like that :)

summary: reader reunites with Matthew for her birthday after his absence on a week-long trip. 

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fingering, oral (female receiving), dirty talk.

word count: 3.8k 

masterlist

after lighting my favorite candles on the bedside table and smoothing out the wrinkles on the bed, I climb onto the mattress and fold my legs up beneath me, criss-cross applesauce. there's a warm, peachy light that falls onto the white comforter, aureate and gentle when I straighten my spine.

I have spent my birthday so far dealing with tired limbs and people I don't like; the only good part so far was getting lunch with a couple of my friends, but something still feels absent.

that something is Matthew.

he's been in Los Angeles for a week, and I miss him like crazy. the apartment is cold and hollow without him in it, despite the numerous objects of his that decorate every nook and cranny. a star and moon mobile hangs above our bed, which sounds childish but actually is fun for both of us to look at when we're lying together at night.

our eyes always follow as the crescent and circle shapes cross each other in a slow circle while we talk. and every time he's gone, his side of the bed gets cold. I miss his mouth and the shape of his arms when they enfold me. I've never been much for showing affection, but I would cover him in kisses if we had all day together.

absence makes the heart grow fonder, I guess.

he's coming home tonight and I've been looking forward to it for days now. even our kitten, Clarisse, lifts her head every time someone in the hallway of the building passes. she likes to sit between us whenever she can.

I let my thoughts roam freely as I take deep breaths and center my mind. it's hard to reign in the joy I feel at the memory of him. I haven't had an orgasm since he left, not because I haven't had the motivation, but because Matthew has created a new rule.

neither of us can pleasure ourselves until we see each other again. technically, I suppose we could break the rule and there would be no ramifications-- but it's kinda fun, to be honest. every night he calls me, and every night he tiptoes around the things he wants to do when he gets home. he can always hear the shortness of my breath when he says anything erring on risqué, asking what I'm wearing or if I've been thinking of him. of course I've been thinking of him; my nights swell with apparitions of his touch, moving over my skin without any tangible reality.

it usually ends with him tsking and telling me to be patient while I dig my fingernails into the inside of my thighs, resisting every urge within me to get off to the sound of his voice. he does it so well, too. all deep and desirous when he tells me to be good.

even as I sit here on the bed, a tingling feeling starts in my stomach. I want him too badly, and waiting has been absolute torture. I remember two nights ago, when I was sitting in his favorite armchair with my knees tucked into my chest, speaking softly to him.

"what have you been up to?"

"nothing out of the ordinary: filming, drawing... thinking of you." he had said, the last three words igniting a flame in my stomach. I love to hear him say that.

"anything in particular?" I started to trace absent-mindedly over the skin of my calves.

"thinking about how good you'd look with your hands between your legs." his voice was somehow silky and raspy all at once, like the idea of it was arousing him. I bit my lip and squeezed my thighs together.

"stop tempting me."

"why?"

"you know damn well why." I giggled. he sighed on the other end of the line.

"I'm starting to hate this rule."

"you made it!" I argued, practically able to hear the mischievous little smile on his face.

"I know, but I wanna hear your noises."

"Matthew..." I blushed, even though he wasn't right in front of me.

"I can't wait to hear you scream that." the drop in his tone made goosebumps rise over my skin.

"are you hard right now?"

"maybe." he hesitated. I felt every cell in my body begging me to cheat our rule-- maybe bend it slightly-- but I hold true.

"get home, then, and I'll suck the soul out of you." I laughed a bit and heard him move in his seat.

"stop teasing."

"you're one to talk," I glanced out the window at the city glittering, full of so many people and empty of him. "I should go before we fuck this up for ourselves."

"no..." he whined like a needy puppy for a moment. "just talk to me normally."  

"fine," I pretended to be disappointed. I didn't want to hang up, anyway. "do you wanna hear about my coworkers? that's guaranteed to eradicate all sexual thoughts."

...

he texts me half an hour later, as I blow out the wicks of my candles and watch the rest of the sun disappear. I love nighttime. he's on his way and I get butterflies, despite the fact that I already know what's coming.

instead of waiting giddily with Clarisse, I elect to take a hot shower and wash the day from my bones. I feel more at ease now that I've had some time to sit with my thoughts, although they've made me even more sexually frustrated.

it's only when I'm drying my hair and sitting in my new lingerie slip dress that relief walks through the door in the form of Matthew and a pizza from our favorite neighborhood place. I hear him come in, practically leap up and run into the living room.

"hi!" he greets, standing in the entryway with his suitcase and a scarf thrown casually around his neck. he shuts the door just in time for me to get to him.

"hi hi hi!" I attach myself like a parasite, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him tightly.  

"happy birthday, my sweet girl," he kisses the top of my head and lets out a chuckle at my affection. "can I set my stuff down, quick?" Clarisse brushes against his leg.

reluctantly, I disentangle myself and take the pizza box from his hands and carry it into the kitchen. he makes a high-pitched whistle noise as I walk away, bending over to greet our cat.

"liking the view." he jokes. I set down the box and return to him, removing his scarf and coat with something of an impatience.

"shut up," I laugh. he starts to kiss my cheekbone, smiles against my skin while I peel off the winter layers. he's got too many clothes on. "you didn't need to pick up a pizza."

"it's your special day-- I wanted to get you the finest cuisine in Manhattan." he replies sincerely. I bite back a grin and stare up at him, completely and utterly in love with his stupid turns of phrase.

"it's gonna get cold, though."

"why?" he frowns. I answer by pulling him in for a voracious kiss, cupping his face in my hands. after a moment of us pressing our torsos together, he grabs the backs of my thighs and I jump, letting him hold me up. one of his hands rests beneath my butt, squeezing the flesh while we embrace.

"you're gonna drop me if we don't get to the bedroom soon." I giggle into his mouth. he playfully smacks my ass and carries me into our favorite place, slamming the door shut with his foot and setting me down on the mattress. I smile at his perfect features, wanting to both tear into him and preserve this moment in time forever.

he climbs onto the bed, pushes my legs apart and runs his hands along the outside of my thighs to hitch up my slip. I raise my eyebrows but don't argue when he gathers the dress up around my waist and yanks my panties down.

"I've been thinking about your pussy all day." he kisses the skin above my knee, moving much too slowly up my legs while he holds them open. I feel my hips leave the bed in eagerness, and he glances at my core hungrily. "you're dripping, baby."

"don't make me wait any more." I roll my eyes and he places the flat of his hand over my center, barely stimulating me while pushing me down. he knows the effect it has from the tortured whine I release.

"the best things come with time." he winks and continues his open-mouthed kisses along my inner thighs. his head is between my legs, but not nearly in the way I'd like it to be. I crave more; he knows it. he licks over a spot near my pussy and I moan.

"sensitive, huh?" he raises an eyebrow. I run my fingers through those unruly curls, tug.

"don't act as if you aren't just as turned on right now."  

"delayed gratification is a skill, darling." he's smirking and it's driving me wild looking at him in this position, not doing anything. he peeks at my body again before meeting my eyes. "you're dragging this out by talking, by the way."

"oh my god." I throw my head back into the pillow, but go silent as he starts to resume his movements. finally, slowly, he licks up my entrance, pausing at my crest to flick his tongue. I gasp and look at him, his focus all on my face.

he rolls his mouth expertly over me, dipping between my folds to taste and releasing a greedy moan before starting to lap and play with it like he can't stop himself anymore. this time, when I grip his hair, I use it as leverage to grind against him. he feels so good, the sounds coming from my lips are truly unhinged.

"oh, shit, shit-- just like that." I choke out. every part of me clings to him. he wraps his hands around my thighs and yanks me down the bed so he can do more with me. every action with his tongue is like a delicious torture, him exploring all the parts of me as if he's never tasted them before. when he runs his teeth gently across my clit, I moan loudly.

"so hot, Matthew, god, please--"

he doesn't even stop to tease me at all. judging by the darkened irises and blown-out pupils, he's lost in his own world while he eats me out. I can feel the pads of his fingertips gripping onto my skin as if it's his only tether to reality. he behaves like someone inebriated, trying new tricks and thrusting his tongue into my entrance. I'm already close, and he can feel from the insistence of my sounds.

he pulls away for a second and I whine, but he puts two fingers over my clit and rubs me like crazy while he talks.

"is this what you wanted for your birthday, sweetheart? to cum?" his mouth is glistening with my essence, lips swollen, while he holds my gaze. I'm whimpering.

"we're gonna have dinner after this and then for dessert, I'm gonna give you what you want," he pants and I can see the erection straining against his clothes. "okay?"

"mhmm." I buck against his touch, which is bringing me closer with every passing second.

"I'm treating you until that little pussy can't take it anymore." he bites his lip and watches me squirm. I'm almost to the edge and I know what will finish me.

"I need your mouth." I beg him hopefully. Matthew grins.

"whatever you want, baby." and with that, he bends down again and replaces his talented fingers with his lips, flicking and running over my clit until I can feel my stomach tensing.

"fuck!" I cry out, rolling against his face and climaxing intensely. my eyes squeeze shut at the tightening of all my muscles. my skin is on fire as I clutch at my tits through the fabric of my dress and feel my back move off the bed. he's pulling my legs up so that he can work me through my orgasm at an angle, harshly sucking at it until I'm completely worn out.

he puts me down and I breathe deeply, try to settle the quickness of my pulse.

"how was that?" he asks, rubbing over my legs affectionately while I come down from my high.

"amazing." I sit up and start to tug at his belt in the hopes of undoing it, but Matthew removes my wrist and shakes his head. I peek up at him with a curious, disappointed expression.

"it's your day, remember?" he says it so lovingly with a slightly higher pitch than normal, soft and laced with kindness. I look at his erection, anyway, always wanting the sight of it.

"that can't be comfortable."

"oh, it's not." he laughs. I let him lift me off the bed and he guides me to the kitchen on my slightly weak legs. everything about him leaves me like that.

Matthew and I eat pizza and drink champagne while he tells me about his trip, about all the cool people he met and places he went to shoot. he shows pictures of the cast and him making silly faces, and a bakery he saw.

"all the pastries are named after amazing women," he grins and presents a photo of the interior, which is full of flowers and hues of rich blue. "so I obviously thought of you."

I smile through my bite of food, heart fluttering. he shows me a picture of a half-eaten cookie that has the silhouette of a woman on the front, sitting in a chair. it's very 1800's-looking.

"it's supposed to be Jane Austen."

"I'm jealous." I grin.

"I'll take you sometime." he puts his phone away and we go back to talking normally. I could watch his lips move forever, listen to his voice forever. there's a quality to his speech that is entirely unique, that draws me in and makes me want to claim him for life. I didn't know it was possible to want someone so completely.

I rant about the things I had to deal with today, and he chuckles at my naturally indignant tone. by the time I run out of steam, we're just sitting with pleased expressions on our faces. even when I'm angry about something that's happened earlier, he knows how to make me forget all about it.

"it would be fun for everyone to meet you." Matthew toys with the napkin in his lap. I sigh.

"as long as there's alcohol involved, sure."

"why?"

"they make me nervous!"

"you have no reason to be nervous," he shakes his head slowly. "they'll love you."

"that's the thing-- I want them to like me so badly, I'll do something to mess it up."

"you couldn't. you're adorable when you're shy." he reaches under the table and squeezes my knee reassuringly. I try to smile, but my stomach twists up at the thought. it's easy for Matthew; he's so uninhibited.

"you say that now, but it'll be a different story when I've managed to fall on my face in front of everyone."

he snorts. "okay, that would be kind of funny."

"hey!" but I'm hiding a smile.

"they'll love you," he keeps his hand on my leg as he looks at me. "you wanna know how I know?"

"how?" I wait patiently for his reply. he leans forward in his seat and beckons me closer.

"because you are the sweetest--" he kisses me. "smartest--" another peck. "funniest girl I know."

"stop." I deadpan as I turn my face away just enough for him to nuzzle my cheek with his nose as I laugh.

"not to mention the sexiest one, too." he whispers in my ear. I put my hand on his shoulder, intending to push him away playfully but finding myself not wanting to.

"I knew that's where you were gonna take that." I roll my eyes. his other hand has been creeping progressively up my thigh until his fingers brush my core. I suck in a breath, remembering that my panties are still in the bedroom.

"you want me to prove it to you?" he starts to stroke over me, gathering the wetness on his fingers that already waits for him. I let out a slight moan as he dips inside and curls his digits.

"mhmm."

he starts to finger me easily, adding a second and pumping them inside while I grip the edge of the table and watch his face concentrate on mine. he's rough and deep, the result of not having his own orgasm earlier. I can see the lust in his eyes like he can't wait to dive in. all that comes out of my mouth are chants of his name, begging for him as his thumb toys with my clit. my walls clench and his jaw hangs open with a slight smile.

"do that again." he says. I obey, squeezing my thighs around his wrist. he feels so good there, and he's not even doing that much. "god, I can't wait for you to do that on my cock."

"fuck me, then." I breathe.

"gladly," he removes his fingers so suddenly, I make a disappointed noise. "get on the table, sweetheart."

"the-- the table?" I glance down at the surface. he nods in complete seriousness. oh, wow.

we clear off the two plates and down the rest of our champagne, his lips capturing mine easily the second I turn around from putting them in the sink. he walks me back to the table, never breaking our contact, before I end up sitting on it. he's between my legs, pushing his hips to mine while he moves my dress up again.

I hum into his neck while he starts to grind against me, undoing his belt and breathing quickly in my ear. I can feel his length through the fabric, feel how desperate he is. I scoot closer to the edge and try to get more.

"are you sure you don't want me to suck your dick?" I peek at him. he tilts my face up and I feel myself sink into those dark circles around his eyes. my beautiful, haunted boy.

"I need to be inside you." he says it without an ounce of humor. every word weighted with desire as he holds me there. my insides feel like they've been electrified, nerves sparking. all I can do is nod fervidly and pull his shirt off.

he takes off his bottoms and stares back at me, stroking his cock while I trail my nails down his chest, abdomen, whatever I can find. he's so gorgeous, I want to leave marks just so I can make sure he's real. he rubs himself in my essence, then pushes the head inside.

"Matthew--" I bite down on his shoulder to silence myself as he stretches me out. it hasn't even been that long, but it feels like the first time. his head dropping down with a long, low groan of pleasure.

"I missed this." he sheathes himself inside, deep, and I feel my walls tightening around him. there's a pressure on my clit from the position we're in, too. I whine on it, letting myself wiggle impatiently.

"move." I whisper. he starts to withdraw, only about halfway, before going in again. I throw my head back at the force of his thrust, so greedy. he's groaning softly while he presses his mouth to my throat, the flutter of his breath over my skin causing shivers to run up and down my spine.

I wrap my legs around his waist and he starts to find a rhythm with my body. nails dig into his back as an anchor. the closeness of his chest to mine is comforting.

"do you know how hard it was not to get myself off, baby?" he says, the words threaded with a needy tone. I shake my head and pray he'll keep talking. "every night I'd think about you and I couldn't do anything about it."

"you could have." I taunt.

"this is better," he goes faster, clutching at my waist and legs to pull me closer. "so much better."

"yeah?" I giggle, although it's hard when he's pounding into me so hard. I cling tightly and try to meet his thrusts. he's hitting different angles within me that I didn't even know existed, tearing me apart in the absolute best way.

"I wanna be inside it all day." he moans. I'm scratching his back with the way we're working together, every word out of his mouth and the sounds he makes causing me to lose my mind. his fingers dig into my ass as he slams into me. the table shakes beneath.

"that feels so fucking good." I grab on and roll my hips against his. his hand moves to my shoulder to push the straps of my dress down.

"let me see you," he tugs them until my tits are out, at which point he grabs my waist and pulls me against him, moaning loudly at the feeling. "pretty girl."

I can feel the tidal wave building within me, the seconds that gather into one wild, exquisite torrent of pleasure. the knot in my stomach tightens as he fucks me.

"I'm gonna cum." tears prick the back of my eyes. he's working my figure so perfectly, I can barely see. my legs are shaking before I even reach the culmination.

"good." he gets erratic as he imagines how pleasurable it'll be to have me clenching around him, and I sink below the surface. my hips jerk and I cry out like it's my last time being with him, his name pouring from my mouth. Matthew speeds up.

"so... tight--" he shudders. "oh fuck-- that's it, baby, that's it."

he spills inside and it prolongs our orgasms, both of us breathing hard while I remove my arms from his shoulders and lean back on my hands against the table, him still thrusting gently into me while we hold eye contact.

when he's finished, he removes himself from me and then we're just there, looking at each other with love all over our faces.

"happy birthday, Y/N." he grins.

"can you give me one more gift?" I bite my lip. he frowns.

"oh, I have several gifts for you in my suitcase--" he starts to say with a laugh, then sees that I'm not referring to anything tangible. "yes, anything."

"can you Clorox this table, please?"

Matthew kisses my cheek. "of course."

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Snowy Favours

i wrote this for one of my favourite humans in the entire world! @queen-of-demons-and-hell i just kind of forgot to post it on here oops

masterlist; my links

[image has alt text]

She smells coffee. And then pancakes, and then freshly squeezed orange juice. And suddenly she's three days into a Indonesian island holiday and there's sun streaming through her windows and the sheets draped over her bared skin are cool and if she opens her eyes she'll be met with ruffling lace curtains and the sight of the ocean just over the deck.

Annabeth Chase wakes up to silence. To darkness. To New York plunged into winter as if Khione had taken her rage out on the city over night. Snow covers the concrete buildings, already turning sloppy and muddied with the trek of never ending people. She is nowhere near Indonesia, nor in a villa overlooking blue waters. She is in her grungy apartment in her more-mattress-than-bed bed and the single window in her bedroom looks out onto the brick of the building next to her. In short its just another Monday morning.

The disappointment that floods through her is breathtaking. She feels her life swallow her up, wrapping around her lungs and squeezing as if it had taken lessons from a python. Her fingers curl around the duvet pulled over her as she stares at the wall, at the pictures littering it. She takes a deep breath, another, another. Slowly the python loosens, her heart returns to it's normal rhythm.

Glancing at the small pink clock on her bedside table she almost groans as she sees the time. Three minutes till her alarm rings. Not enough to dive back into bed but enough to consider it anyway. She forces herself to get up, feeling the cool of the wood under her feet and traipses to the bathroom where she is met with tile, the sudden cold pulls a hiss from her.

With a zombied look in her eyes she goes about her morning routine: pee, teeth, shower, change, scrounge around in empty cupboards for something at least half edible, scarf another energy bar when nothing better makes itself known, and then finally pack her bag and make her way out. She can do it with her eyes closed by now, sometimes she even does.

Still as she steps into the biting air that comes with snow her body wakes up considerably. With a curse that middles Greek and English, she twists her scarf tighter around her neck and pulls her beanie over her ears. She decides she can spare a moment to go to her favourite coffee shop this morning just to throw down a hot drink that hopefully scorches her insides.

With a determined step she sets off to the subway, earbuds shoved into her ears blaring "do re mi" by blackbear. A violent song for this early in the morning but one she mumbles along to all the same.

The coffee shop, as she so lovingly calls it, is more like a caravan sized hole wedged between two skyscrapers. It fits maybe five people comfortably, ten if you're looking to be smothered. But the coffee is beyond magical and they have the most decadent blueberry muffins she's ever had the pleasure to eat. Besides her best friend works here and really if anyone can turn her from bruised-eyed zombie to semi-human it's Percy Jackson.

The door creaks as she steps through, announcing her presence. She's too busy basking in the warmth of the little hovel to worry about the greeting thrown her way.

"Gods it's cold out there." She sucks in a breath, feeling her lungs defrost.

"Yes," Percy grins, "I suppose someone pissed off Khione again."

She rolls her eyes, as her body collapses against the black marble counter. "Khione gets pissed off about everything that's hardly an excuse to give us all frostbite."

"I suggest you take that up with her, because I cannot see any of us coming out alive after that conversation."

"Just give me a coffee you menace," She scrunches her nose in distaste, but cannot keep the playfulness out of her voice.

"Want a blueb?" He shakes a paper bag, something thumping inside. "On the house." The accompanying wink sets her cold skin on fire.

Her eyes narrow as she surveys him. His unruly black curls are kept back by three butterfly shaped clips, bright pink and probably Estelle's, and his skin browner— like dark roast coffee— from the weekend his family had taken in Spain three weeks before glows softly under the warm yellow light hanging above then. The black polo neck he wears under his "Holed Up" company t-shirt, makes his eyes look darker than normal. His jeans, faded blue, stand stark against the rest of his outfit. Even like this, in work appropriate clothes, he looks beautiful. Looks like the beginning of spring, and the happily ever after of stories, and the change of tides.

"What are you planning?" His look of incredulity almost makes her laugh.

"Why would you think I'm up to anything?"

"I've known you since we were twelve Jackson," She scoffs, as if his question is ridiculous in itself. "I know every face, every expression, every movement of your body. I know when you're up to something." She finishes off with a glare for good measure.

His green eyes are bright as he studies her, emotions warring across his face. To spill or not to spill. He pushes her coffee across the counter and she looks at him expectantly as she grabs the cup with both hands. Her numb fingers instantly start to sting with the sudden change in temperature.

"Fine." He sighs, looking at her through his lashes as if maybe be could get away with not telling her. She raises a brow. He curses under his breath and flops down on a chair hidden behind the counter.

"I need your help with something—"

Yes, of course, is on the tip of her tongue. She would do it. No hesitation. There's not much, not anything, she wouldn't do for him.

"But before you say no or worse get mad you have to hear me out." He finishes quickly. And then his eyes are big and pleading and she doesn't know if she wants to turn away or lean in closer, study that captivating green like it's the newest find in her paleontology class.

Instead she clears her throat, "What is it Percy?"

"I need you to be my fake girlfriend." He says it in one breath.

She almost asks him to repeat in case she hadn't heard right. But she knows she did. She knows she couldn't have heard anything else

He swallows. She blinks. He drops his head to his hands, a sigh already on his lips. She opens her mouth, snaps it shut.

"Okay I know it's...odd," He starts, "But I kind of got roped into going to a mixer with some people from my class and this one guy asked if we could go together but I don't really like him so I said no." Percy was rambling but she was too speechless to stop him. "But then he looked really hurt and I felt really bad so I kind of said I already had a partner which made him look less hurt but then Piper, the girl hosting the mixer, over heard me and said I should bring my partner along, since a few of them were bringing their partners, and you know I couldn't exactly back out of the lie after that so I said I would and well..." He gestures between them. "Then this happened."

Annabeth takes a sip of her coffee. And another, she downs almost half the cup before she has the ability to talk. "Why don't you just say your partner is sick on the day?"

It's her first question and instantly she wants to take it back. Because the flinch Percy tries to hide is enough to have her scrambling for a way to take back the words. Because it's not that she won't be Percy's (fake) partner, or even that she doesn't want to.

It's more that she doesnt know if she'll be able to draw the line between fake gestures and her very real feelings. Having a crush on someone for the better part of eight years tends to tug at her emotional side in a way that overules her logical one. Yes she can be Percy's fake girlfriend. No her heart won't believe the lopsided grin he gives her when he makes a bad joke will be 'just for show'. Yes she can hold hands with him and meet his friends. No she can't help the jump in her stomach as she sees the interlaced fingers.

"You don't have to." He says quietly. "I'll think of something." He waves it off, a small smile already finding its way onto his face. She knows, even without careful study, that it doesn't quite reach his eyes. She has to fix this.

"No." It comes out in a snap of rushed regret. "I will, I want to."

He looks at her, gaze wide, hesitant. "You do?"

She nods and then, as if the gesture isn't good enough stumbles through her words. "Yes, I want to." Her smile is shy, but the beam she's rewarded with nearly knocks her off her feet. "I think it'll be fun."

He scoffs at her, waving a hand. "Everything we do is fun. We're Percy and Annabeth."

And he says it's like there's no other way their names could be said. Like if someone says his hers must follow. Like if someone says hers his cannot possibly be far behind. He says it like they belong.

Her heart does a giddy sort of flip that spreads warmth through her chest and in her stomach, better than the coffee ever could.

"Okay Percy Jackson." She holds out her hand, to shake on. "Let's pretend to be madly in love."

With a wink, that causes her brain to explode, he takes her hand in his and turns it over before placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles.

She becomes the air itself. And as she floats to lectures she decides maybe it's not just another Monday. Maybe she did wake up in a paradise of sorts. Maybe life isn't so dull. She laughs to herself.

It can never be dull if Percy is there. It never has.

[daisies-write]

that Illumi Flower short GUTTED me... thank u so much! 😭 can you do more illumi angst where he finds out hisoka cheated on him, illumi's rethinking his life and himself, and then he meets reader s/o who turns his life around?? sorry if that's too angsty you can ignore if you want <3

Ooooooooooooh!!! I personally am from the people who only see Hisoka-Illumi’s relationship as practical and not romantic so honestly it was fun writing all this in another point of view!! Also idk about this one piece honestly, everthing feels so OOC T-T I did my best. I hope you’ll like it nonetheless<3

-Yasu

Craziest

Requested by: anon

TW: mention of cheating but other than that just really OOC characters, i’m very sorry idk how to write qfstrydjukfytjdhrstgeqfz-

Writer: Yasu

Word count: 1923

    To be completely honest, that was to be expected. This whole situation, this relationship, from its inception to its inevitable end, was incredibly toxic. A marriage only for the benefits of the death of the other and the benefits of death only, so where had he screwed up? When had he gotten so attached to this eccentric magician that it hurt - something he didn’t think he could feel for years now - upon learning he had fucked someone again?

    It wasn't new anyway. Hisoka had never deprived himself of the pleasure of a drunken night out and it's not like he owed anything to anyone. This marriage was really just an arrangement and Illumi had always known it but things had changed, on his side at least. His feelings had somehow mutated very slowly, imperceptibly over the years spent with Hisoka. He wouldn’t say it was love, he didn’t know what it was anyway. Assassins don't need friends, let alone lovers, that was what he kept saying to himself that night.

    The sky had darkened very quickly and Illumi had hung up on Hisoka who spend a good ten minutes to describe his latest follies with his new one night stand. The dark haired man didn't have the strength to hear his voice anymore and as strange as it sounded, Illumi was feeling exhausted. The streetlights were starting to illuminate the city and in the few minutes that seemed to last for hours, night had fallen and the nightlife of the big cities began.

    The tall buildings, boulevards and shops had come alive, as they do every year during the approaching winter festivals; people wrapped in their warm clothes and sheltered under their umbrellas crowded happily. Some laughed with friends, some with family, some held hands in a small but beautiful show of love. and this whole, peaceful universe contrasted so much with Illumi’s in a nostalgic painting.

    He walked along a street whose name he had forgotten, in a place he did not know, lost in his world which seemed even colder than the rain that pounded over his body. He had no emotions on his face, as always, but he thought. He had thought so much that he had come to question his existence, his being. “Who am I, what am I, where am I going? “

    He strolled gracefully between people who never seemed to notice him; he was a shadow, a tiny piece of darkness that roamed against the walls as he walked tirelessly hoping to find a goal, some hint of nonchalance but in vain. The cold was burning his skin but it was nothing as his physical capacities were out of the ordinary, inhuman. So he didn't understand why you had stopped in the middle of your path, eyes wide open, worried. So genuinely worried about him.

“Sir, do you feel okay?” had you asked softly, while holding tight your umbrella.

    Illumi saw no point in answering and didn't give you one more thought. He resumed his walk, thinking you would do the same. But where his physical abilities were incredible, your empathy and kindness were even more so, out of the ordinary, inhuman. Or actually, very much human.

   “Sir, wait please!”

You quickened your step after him, and so he stopped and turned his head to watch your face, unphased.

   “What do you want from me?”

   You smile at the question. You didn't want anything from him: he worried you, that’s it. His gaze seemed so far away and so cold and as the burning match of pure love that you were, you refused to let it go like that.

   “I just felt like you needed someone to reach out for you, for some reasons,” you said, a gentle smile playing on your lips.

   Illumi didn't understand. To tell the truth, he didn't understand any of the words that came out of your mouth, nor their tone, nor their intentions. It was too sweet for his world, too foreign. He had never had real warmth and never felt the need for it but you were there and making your presence known as you see fit. So he just watched.

   Your smile never left you as you carefully undid your scarf. Illumi was tall so you needed one jump and another to get it around his neck while he drowned in incomprehension. Your neck was cold now but you didn't care and lifted your umbrella higher in an attempt to cover Illumi's head.

   “Can I buy you a hot chocolate? Coffee perhaps? ” you asked.

   But Illumi wasn't listening to you, his eyes fixed on the scarf you had so gently forced around his neck. New questions had crept into his mind in a mad dance, a mix of emotions that overwelmed him in a heat he didn't know; he wasn’t feeling hot, just warm. Did you just burst the bubble of his world? Did you just made a little hole in it to blow hot air, and make him experience a part of the humanity he lacked? Could someone do this in a few seconds? Could you?

   “Who are you?” he asked after finally catching one of his racing thoughts.

   "Me? My name’s (Y/N)! ” you said. “So? What do you prefer? ”

You could.

   “Why?”

You didn't mind his questions, you did know it might be weird to have a stranger come out of nowhere to put a scarf around you and invite you to a drink.

   “Well, it’s better if you drink something you like, right?” you giggled. “And you have no coat, nor an umbrella and you’re wearing short sleeves! I figured out a scarf would be welcomed, haha! ”

   Illumi was looking at you once again. He scanned your face, looked for an ounce of malice, possible betrayal, but found nothing. There were really strange people on Earth. He decided to accept, perhaps in the hope of forgetting his existential questions that he usually never had. Eyes black, dark and lost hovered over your frame thinking that perhaps wouldn’t be so bad to wait his next mission with someone. You weren’t sure why he accepted but you were glad nonetheless.

   “Great! I know a perfect café not so far and I swear, their pastries are just delicious! ” You point to a café with warm appearances and decorated with Christmas garlands. “You’ll like at least one thing there for sure!”

   You were right, the pastries were excellent and the room wasn’t too crowded. Illumi had kept the scarf on even while drinking his coffee while you smirked at him through the steam of your drink. He amused you with his perfect posture and manners.

   "Do you come from a rich family?"

   "Yes."

   "Ah, I knew it!" You laugh. "What family?."

   “Zoldycks.”

   Your eyes widened for a moment and Illumi thought he had scared but you still laughed, still so sweet. You didn’t seem to mind.

   “Wow! This is quite something! "

   “Most people would have at least started getting nervous after hearing that, and yet you are laughing.” Illumi sighed. “I think I have something that keeps attracting crazy psychopaths.”

   "I'm not a psychopath!" You pouted slightly and sipped from your hot chocolate. “And what do you mean by you’re always attracting them?”

   “My husband.”

   You bursted into intense laughter.

   “Who- “you breathed sharply through your laugh. “Just who calls their husband a psychopath?”

   “Because he is.”

   And your laughter started again. Illumi calmly explained everything there was to know about his relationship with Hisoka. You listened eagerly, finding every detail fascinating. Illumi had a complicated life, but he never seemed to talk about how he felt. He told everything as one would recite facts, with the utmost objectivity. Illumi didn’t feel as if talking about his life was important but you seemed to enjoy it and he couldn’t care less about what you knew about him. You were weak so he didn’t have to worry and just went with the flow.

   “It's a strange story. I hope you’ll figure everything’s out! ” you said once he finished talking.

   You looked at the walls around you and found the story of your new acquaintance even stranger in a place like this. The walls were a beautiful honey color, the armchairs extremely soft, the dishes were delicate, the smells mingled in the air, the sounds were joyful, and the shadows on the floor danced to the rhythm of the candles. What a great place to tell such a horrible story.

   "You’re crazy too, aren’t you?" said Illumi after a while of silence and a last sips of coffee. “Even crazier than Hisoka, I’d say. But you don’t particularly look like it, it’s just a feeling. I don’t know what is making me see you that way.”

   You put your cup down, closed your eyes and breathed in one last time the smell of butter and cinnamon before standing up. You put your coat back on and picked up your umbrella.

"Because you're right, I am crazy."

   His eyes never left your face now. He didn't expect you to be leaving so soon, or at least it seemed soon to him. When he checked the time on his phone, he surprised himself when he saw that at least three hours passed. You stayed three whole hours entertaining a stranger because his eyes looked weird to you and he couldn’t understand.

   “Perhaps I am the craziest!”

   “Perhaps. But why?”

   You played with your fingers as your gaze turned dreamy. Illumi noticed at that moment that you were breathtaking. Your whole being was so different from his world of extreme violence, cold and burning from Hell. You had a good heart, a beautiful soul, a touch of idealism that was so peculiar to him. Any other day, and he’d find you foolish. Tonight, your foolishness was welcomed.

   “I do believe that Humans are amazing and that the world is good. And because I so firmly believe this, I know I am crazy. ” You bite your lips. “For me, there’s no other possibility.”

   “Even with people like me?”

   “Especially with people like you,” you said. “You’re bad, awful even. But somehow you’re still human. And you still said yes to a bit of simple pleasure; a conversation and a coffee.”

   You smacked your cheeks to make your embarrassment go away, still smiling.

   “For me, it’s the proof that you aren’t that heartless, and that no one really is. ”

   Once you said goodbye to him and left, Illumi started thinking again. For a long time. So long that the café closed and he had to be kicked out by the manager.

   Outside, the rain had stopped but the cold was still there. The world seemed as dense as before, the sky still so dark, but the garlands of color were no longer annoying and the laughter of families and friends didn’t seem so loud anymore. Illumi realized that he was still wearing your scarf, that the taste of coffee still lingered on his tongue as the echo of your laughter in his ears and he hated that he liked it.

   He lived in the craziest world that could possibly exist and it’s a person like you, a big idealistic as well as a little bit of a simpleton who had just decided and succeeded in turning his life upside down in a few hours and a drink, in a way that even Hisoka or anyone could ever do. And he hated that he liked it even more.

   Maybe you really were the craziest. And maybe he wanted to see you again.

[b0rista]

Oh my god, oh my GOD you gave me the most ridiculous brainrot with those hcs of the Titan trio in a gloomy city, I literally haven’t stopped thinking about it all day. If you’re still open for requests, could you maybe write something similar, but with the reader having a crush on bertholdt, or being his s/o in that au? Thank you so much if you do, I hope you have a lovely day! 🥰

— ❝︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍! 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐔 𝐏𝐓. 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ; 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐓. ·˚ ༘

♡︎ : PLEASE I'M SO GLAD THAT YOU LIKED ITDK I LOWKEY FELL OFF AT THE END BUT TYTY 🥺 and tbh i was THIS CLOSE 🤏 to turning it into a bert x reader post so you like read my mind PLSKD. and i hope you have a lovely day, too!! 🥺

reader x bertholdt version of this! i suggest reading those headcanons first because i absolutely refuSe to attempt to explain the atmosphere again because i'm illiterate gegsgdgh

if you'd like a music recommendation for when you're reading this, literally just play the band cigarettes after sex and you'll get the vibe i'm tryna put off 😭

also this is long and dragged out and im SORRYYFHF

because there isn't a whole lot to change (other than bertholt's feelings for annie; he's older, so in this version, he's over it entirely), everything will be the same as it was in the first part. the four of you, all living in extremely gloomy territory. you're only close with eachother, and it's the sour scent of cigarette smoke and green tea keeping the lot of you sane. that, and the rain. the sweet, senseless rain.

as before, bertholdt's in his twenties, and currently working as a philosophy professor's assistant. his workplace is at a local community college, where you and the other two occasionally visit.

the same goes for the others, as well— while annie's a policy analyst, reiner's taken up certified training. again, not much is different from the first version, if anything at all. what you do for a living is entirely up to you. as for lodging, you're still sharing an apartment with annie, and the boys still visit far too often than remotely necessary. for such a big city, the four of you don't really get out much. really, if you ever do, it's with eachother. you're a very, very tight-knit posse.

back during your college campus days, you're liking toward bertholdt was merely platonic. after all, not only were the bunch of you focused on your academia, but he was always the quieter sort. back then, you were more close to reiner, and even annie, who's worse. still, that didn't mean the two of you didn't interact quite a bit. whenever you were struggling with your studies, he was always offering to help. if we're being entirely honest, there were quite a few exams that you'd have likely failed if it weren't for his assistance.

now, the two of you have grown far more comfortable with one another. of course, college was years ago. as time went on, you'd managed to get closer to him, and vice versa. all four of you are close, despite you having turned their trio into a quartet only a mere matter of years ago. somehow, it felt as they were waiting for you to join them.

if you read the part before this one, you read the instance of which you were hassled on the subway, ultimately leading to an actual buddy system in your favor. well, your friends claim that it's in your favor, anyway. really, it feels like babysitting. they don't like whenever you board the underground train by yourself, and you've been caught trying once or twice. the first time, it was by reiner, who nearly bit your head off. the second time, it was by bert, who was mildly displeased.

instead of scolding you, though, he only boarded the same train as you, offering to see you home. unlike reiner, bertholdt isn't aggressive, especially towards you. if anything, he's protective. he doesn't like it whenever the lingering eyes of a stranger land on you, and he sure as hell isn't fond of the thought of another man taking you home. if you're the more flamboyant sort, and you're unafraid of a fling or two, he'll be quietly bitter. of course, he'll never tell you what to do with your life. he'll tell you to be careful with who you trust, and to stay safe. he's only one call away.

back to your feelings, though. currently, your quiet crush on bertholdt is rising with every given day. it's a struggle, bearing feelings for a man so closed off. nevertheless, it's uncontrollable. fortunately, your pining towards him is more subtle than it is obvious, so he's yet to actually realize. that, and he's fucking oblivious. annie and reiner, however? they're as observing as they come. they know about it, and while they don't tease you, they do root for you. reiner more than annie, because annie's horrible at that sort of thing. still, 10/10 friends.

as of right now, you have three pieces of bertholdt's clothing in your closet. a sweater, a scarf, and a t-shirt. he hasn't asked for any of them back, so they're practically yours. they were all loaned to you on seperate occasions. and although he'll never tell you, there's an actual reason for why he hasn't asked for them back— one time, while you were wearing his sweatshirt, he caught a brief glimpse of you from afar: you were bringing the collar to your nose, inhaling the bittersweet scent of his cologne, his scent. you looked so pleased, and it fucking melted him. he can't bring himself to take anything back that he gives to you.

cuddling. all of you cuddle, though it's a bit subtle. whenever the four of you gather at you and annie's apartment after a rough week, you all have this moment where for hours, you simply sit in silence, watching the rain pour atop the cityscape from the other side of the balcony. the television is lowly drumming in the background, and glasses of tea mixed with pure whiskey sit ontop of the coffee table behind you. you do this as a group, and it's weirdly cinematic. when annie's head isn't rested against your shoulder, you like to press the bottom of your chin onto the top of bertholdt's head. from behind him, your arms lazily wrap around his shoulders, and he sinks into you. this is such a weekly occurrence, neither of you even think much of it. after all, reiner and annie are falling asleep ontop of one another beside you. when they do, you and bertholdt often have a quiet conversation. it's sweet, and exactly what the two of you need.

one time, he took you to an ice sculpture festival. it was the midst of winter, and there was one showcasing in the city. of course, the other two were invited. however, they both claimed to be "busy," when really, they went out to see a movie so the two of you could actually do something together. that being said, you went as a pair.

it was actually fun, to your surprise. not because of the sculptures themselves, but because of how much bertholdt actually liked them. for being so closed off, he showed quite a bit of interest in them. y'all know he's artsy. you couldn't help yourself— as he was silently gawking over a ten foot sculpture of a roaring tiger, you called him cute.

of course, knowing him, he immediately started to flush. due to the weather, he easily pinned the redness of his cheeks to the cold. you, of course, were smarter than that.

speaking of the cold, you were freezing. while you made sure to bundle up, you didn't think to bring a scarf. the blisteringly cold wind tickled at your exposed neck, earning itself a shiver from you. you may not have thought much of it, but he certainly did.

from directly behind you, you felt a hand move to hold your hair out of the way as a large, burgundy fabric coiled itself around your neck, immediately encasing you in its warmth. glancing both behind and above you, you saw bertholdt, snugly tying his own scarf around you. from the looks of it, he thought nothing of it. you were cold, and he wanted to fix that. still, the brief collision of his palm against your bare skin was enough to make you melt.

cigarette sharing. this is just,, a thing. the entire group does it, you and bertholdt especially. there have been plenty of instances where you've snatched a dart from in between his lips, bringing it to your own. vice versa, as well— he's a bit more gentle with it, though. when he reaches for your lips, he's careful, and his knuckles ever so slightly graze against your face as he tugs the cigarette from out of your mouth. to this day, you debate surprising him with a quick kiss to his hand.

speaking of kisses, several have been placed on your forehead. despite not being an item, after a particular rough moment, bertholdt's incredibly tender whilst comforting you. by your shoulders, you'll be pulled into an embrace, where he'll bury his nose within your hair while quietly reassuring you. using your chin to raise your face, he'll place a soft, sweet kiss on the center of your forehead. it's short, but effective.

this man is your personal umbrella. if it's pouring rain—which it usually is— and you're without coverage, he is your coverage. he'll either pull off his jacket and use it to cover your head from the rain, or you'll be sheepishly pulled into his chest, where he sacrifices his back to keep you dry.

if the two of you ever exchanged your feelings toward one another, it would be through a dramatic, rainy confession.

you likely went first, blurting out what you felt through a flash of frustrated impulse; it was pouring down rain, and somehow, the two of you had gotten into a conflict in the parking lot of bertholdt's apartment complex. now, you were shouting at him, "perhaps it's because i love you, you goddamn imbecile!"

and he just,, stared. you stared in horror, he stared in utter shock. now, the two of you were drenched, and you were absolutely mortified.

after a couple of moments, you would falter. digging into the left pocket of your coat, you would pull out your pack of marlboros— despite the rain, you moved to get a smoke. "fuck this," you said, "i need a cigarette."

however, right as you flipped the top of the pack open, it would be abruptly smacked out of your grasp, rendering you speechless. and before you could even regain those words of yours back, they were quickly halted by the lips of another, shutting you up for good.

with multiple year's worth of pent up emotions, you and bertholdt kiss beneath the weeping sky.

[ineffable-snowman]

Fic: For Want of Snow

Hi @smeltster, this is your gift for the GO Events gift exchange @good-snowmens. Happy Good Snowmens to you!

Thank you very much to @artemis for beta-reading!

***

For Want of Snow

“You don’t have snow anymore in London,” Aziraphale had said wistfully one day while they were strolling through St. James’s Park, Crowley with a black umbrella and Aziraphale with a tartan one to protect themselves against the steady drizzle.

Personally, Crowley could do without the snow. The usual London weather in December – grey, cold, rainy – was bad enough. Nevertheless, he had filed that information away for later, and when he came across a snow globe in a shop (as you do), he bought one for Aziraphale.

“Oh, how delightful,” Aziraphale said happily as Crowley presented him with the snow globe and removed a stack of books from the coffee table to place the snow globe there. Crowley, in turn, removed the books from the floor and squeezed them onto the shelves.

“Need to keep things tidy,” he offered as a mumbled explanation at Aziraphale’s questioning glance, all the while trying to forget how, just a few months ago, all the books and sheets of paper on the floor had so quickly caught fire. Then he flopped down on his sofa, half listening to Aziraphale prattle on about some theatre production he wanted to see, but mostly glaring at the blessed fireplace to make it very clear that it was never meant to host a fire again.

“Are you quite alright?” Aziraphale’s voice jolted him out of his glaring.

“Yeah, sure. Just cold.” Nothing unusual about snakes disliking the cold, right?

Aziraphale immediately got up to fuss, offered him a woollen tartan blanket (which he naturally refused), and a cup of tea (which he allowed).

“I could light a fire,” Aziraphale suggested.

“No! No, not necessary, I’m already much warmer, this-” Crowley sloshed some tea over his trousers and suppressed a hiss “-works wonders. What were you saying about that musical play?”

The distraction worked – for now. It did nothing to make the images of the bookshop on fire in Crowley’s mind disappear, though. 

Crowley’s gaze kept drifting to the snow globe where the snowflakes floated dreamily down onto the little house between pine trees. The brightly lit windows looked cosy, and an idea started to form in Crowley’s head.

***

Hell used to hold Crowley up as an example for efficient evil deeds organisation. What he was planning now was not exactly evil but it warranted the same kind of attention to detail (maybe even more).  

He started subtly, making the Bentley play White Christmas whenever he drove Aziraphale somewhere. Then he placed adverts at the places Aziraphale frequented: picturesque images of snowy villages and woods, vacation homes, cottages to rent, property for sale.

“You know, it would be nice to have a White Christmas again,” Aziraphale said when they were sitting, once again wet from the London rain, in the Bentley and the song Winter Wonderland began to play.

Crowley hummed his agreement. “Makes it really Christmassy, snow. Very festive.”

“It’s a shame neither of us took weather management courses, back in Heaven.”

“Yeah, would’ve been more helpful than choir practice.”

“Oh, don’t remind me!”

Any other day Crowley gladly would have taken this chance to bitch about Heaven with Aziraphale but now he needed to focus on his mission. The car in front of them stopped without knowing why, right next to a travel agency with a big poster in their shop window that showed a cottage in a winter landscape.

“You know,” Crowley said offhandedly, “there are places where you could have a White Christmas.”

“Yes, in Lappland or Siberia. I’m sure it would be wonderful to go there but you know how I love the English Christmas traditions.”

“There are English places where you could have a White Christmas.”

“Oh? Where would that be?”

“Tadfield. For example.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“Uh.” From very thorough research about which part of the UK had the highest probability of a White Christmas. “Had a chat with the Antichrist’s father. Not Satan, obviously, still not on speaking terms since you know. His human father. Anyway, they’ve had White Christmases for several years now, he said.”

“How lovely. Tadfield is not very far, maybe we could go there on Christmas Day for a walk in the snow.”

Crowley shrugged. “Could rent a cottage for Christmas.”

Aziraphale turned to him, a worried look on his face, and shit, shit, shit, too fast. The song changed midway (I’m dreaming of ice in the sunshine) and the snowy cottage on the poster turned into a tropical island. Crowley wanted to hit himself for being such an idiot. Why couldn’t he leave things be? Things were fine now, why couldn’t he just be satisfied with what he had?

“I meant only so we could have a place to warm up,” he said quickly and honked at the car in front of him to finally get moving, for Heaven’s sake! “You know, after a walk in the snow, you need a warm place where you can have a hot drink and I don’t think they have cafés in Tadfield, so.”

“Oh. Yes.” Aziraphale hesitated. “Good.” He cleared his throat. “We could do that.”

***

It took careful planning. First of all he needed to rent a cottage. Not just any cottage, the perfect cottage in the perfect location. A cottage that was also potentially for sale.

Then he kidnapped the holiday decorator at Harrods (but paid him generously, so it wasn’t really kidnapping) to hang up Christmas lights, holly, garlands, and of course to put up and decorate a huge Christmas tree. Crowley visited the cottage himself to make sure the decorations were appropriate, paying special attention to the angel ornaments because they must not resemble certain archangels. While he was there, he also gave the Christmas tree a very strong talking to not to shed a single needle.

Then he brought everything you needed for a perfect Christmas, which was mostly food and drinks. There was some minor blackmail involved when he bullied the waitress at Aziraphale’s favourite café to give away their hot chocolate recipe. He needed three days of practice and several cartons of milk until he got it right without any miracles. (It was the first and hopefully last time his kitchen ever experienced any real cooking.)

On the morning of the 25th, Crowley was thoroughly exhausted but positive that his demonic plan was flawless. What could go wrong? Still he hovered in front of the bookshop’s door, wondering if he should ring the bell, if Aziraphale had forgotten their plan, if all of this was a phenomenally bad idea, if –

Aziraphale opened the door and smiled at him. “Ah, good morning.” He was wrapped in a thick coat and a fluffy woollen scarf. “Merry Christmas!” He handed Crowley a present.

“Ah.” Crowley’s hands moved of their own accord and took it. So that was a thing now. They gave each other Christmas presents now. “Thanks.” Why had no one informed him? He did not have anything for Aziraphale. (Did a cottage count?)

“Open it. You’re going to need it today.”

Crowley carefully opened the golden wrapping paper. He was not prepared for this, the idea that Aziraphale had chosen something for him and then wrapped it and put a bow on it. It was not even midday and things were already getting out of his control.

Inside the box were a thick red scarf and a pair of earmuffs. Crowley would have complained about the fluffiness of the earmuffs but at least they were black and it was his first ever Christmas present from Aziraphale, meaning he would kill anyone who tried to take the earmuffs away from him.

“Ah-hm, guess they could be useful,” he said and Aziraphale’s face erupted into a happy smile.

“Oh, I hoped you would like the colour. You never wear proper winter clothing. It’s no wonder you’re always cold…”

Crowley drove them out of the city while Aziraphale prattled on about bearskins and muffs. Crowley would occasionally comment with a hum but was mostly wondering what it meant that Aziraphale had decided to give him a Christmas present and worried about him staying warm and had gone to the trouble of choosing colours which Crowley liked.

“Oh dear, is the tape deck not working again?”

“Hm?” Crowley startled. The Bentley was playing Crazy Little Thing Called Love. As it had when they had driven off, thirty minutes ago. Crazy Little Thing Called Love was not a thirty-minute-long song, was it?

“I thought Adam had repaired it,” Aziraphale said.

“No, it should-” Crowley thumped against the disc compartment until it played Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture “-definitely be working.”

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

The music that was dramatic enough for this day had not been composed yet but Crowley let Aziraphale choose another CD and resolved to pay more attention to the music from now on.

Fortunately, the drive was not that long and they soon arrived at the outskirts of Tadfield where the cottage was located. The village was in walking distance but far enough away so they had their privacy.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley suppressed a flinch. Did the cottage look too similar to the house in the snow globe? Was it too obvious? “You don’t like it?”

“No, I mean, yes, I like it, it is absolutely wonderful. What a lovely place you have found!”

Crowley let out the breath he had been holding. Aziraphale liked it. He thought the place Crowley had found absolutely wonderful. His plan was working.

“Right! Let’s have a look inside?” Crowley got out of the car and winced when he stepped into the snow. He had forgotten to miracle his shoes waterproof. He would fix them later. For now he opened the front door for Aziraphale, proud to show him the festively decorated interior.

“Oh, look at that, how gorgeous! But who decorated the place like this?”

Oh no. Too much? “Er, it was just…a Christmas…special…deal. To get the house like this. Didn’t know it would be so bright and festive.” Crowley made sure to make a properly disgusted face.

“It is marvellous. Makes you want to stay inside all day. But we are here for the snow, of course. But we must sit down here and have a drink later and really appreciate the decorations.”

Good, Aziraphale liked the interior and wanted to stay, just like he was supposed to. Crowley ticked it off his mental list.

Now to the unpleasant part: snow.

At least Crowley had his new scarf and earmuffs. That did not keep his fingers warm or stop his nose from running, though. Also, walking in the snow was a nuisance. It was exhausting, his shoes and trousers got wet and he stumbled or slipped every few meters. But Aziraphale had flushed cheeks and commented happily on this and that, and it was really annoying and ridiculous what Crowley was willing to do to make that bastard smile.

Aziraphale, naturally, walked on the snow, almost gliding over it as if it was nothing, just leaving the faintest of footprints whereas Crowley trudged a few feet behind, wheezing and sometimes blessing at the bloody snow. Crowley knew that, technically, he should be able to do the same, what with angels and demons being of the same stock. But he also knew that he really needed to know that fact for it to work, and his brain refused to cooperate. Stupid brain, stupid snow.

“It has been some time, hasn’t it?” Aziraphale had stopped and was waiting for Crowley to catch up. He offered Crowley his arm, and Crowley was not against linking arms or holding hands, not at all, but this was humiliating and he wanted to be the one to extend a hand… but there was no way he was going to decline such an offer. Grumbling, he linked arms with Aziraphale and let the angel pull him up.

“There you go.” Aziraphale patted his arm and smiled at him and Crowley was glad he was wearing his sunglasses because getting such an open smile from up so close was shocking. (Also because the snow was blinding.) “You’ve done it before, so there’s no reason why it shouldn’t work now. You just have to believe in it.”

Crowley snorted. Believe in it, that was really the core of the problem. Demons weren’t supposed to – the fickle snow under his feet already gave in at the barest hint of that thought but Aziraphale tightened his hold just in time. An angelic miracle surged through Crowley’s body, making him shudder. It should work now, being supported by the angel’s powers. It did, he stayed on top of the snow even though his legs were a bit wobbly.

“Now, that’s better,” said Aziraphale. “See, it’s just like – what is the saying – riding a bicycle.”

“Never really liked those either. Not enough wheels.”

They discussed vehicles of transportation while they walked towards the forest. It was exhausting to make conversation and at the same time keep his senses tuned for any humans along their way who needed to be distracted. Not to mention the permanent miracle to keep his body temperature up and not succumb to the temptation of hibernation. Then there were the snow-covered branches that got into his face. Why had any human ever thought it a good idea to go for a walk through a snowy forest for fun?

When they had finally spent the scheduled amount of time in the forest, Crowley directed their steps towards the village and made sure to pass the bookshop in a side street with the FOR SALE sign in its window. (As the owner had not known she owned a bookshop 24 hours ago, she was all the more happy for that sign, not least of all because it would bring her unexpected money.)

“Oh, nice bookshop.” Crowley slowed down his steps in front of it. “Would be a shame if someone bought it who’d turn it into a mobile phone shop. Or an estate agency.”

Aziraphale looked pained at the mere idea. Good.

Next stop: the bakery, which for miraculous reasons was opened on Christmas Day.

“How about a little snack?” Crowley suggested.

“Oh, yes, it smells heavenly.”

Crowley harrumphed because the fact that Aziraphale’s favourite bakery had, at short notice, decided to open a branch in Tadfield had nothing at all to do with heavenly influences. He urged Aziraphale to try the ciabatta with roasted garlic and fennel because Aziraphale always insisted that he had never eaten better ciabatta.

“This is good,” Aziraphale said when he tried it. “Mm, I think it’s almost as good as Francesco’s.”

Almost as good?! Who in this bakery had screwed up? Did Crowley have to kidnap Francesco, too? Aziraphale kept on praising the bakery but Crowley was already drawing up new plans on how to insure there was the perfect ciabatta in Tadfield.

Back in the cottage, Crowley immediately went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate. This was the tricky part of the plan. The milk could not be trusted. And the cream could be a real bitch.

Right, he could do this. He had succeeded in his kitchen, so he could do it here as well. Saucepan, milk, cocoa powder, sugar, cream, chocolate chips, a pinch of vanilla, a pinch of cinnamon, miracle, pray, hope that it would not boil over. Well, he had nine more cartons of milk, just in case, and enough cocoa powder for at least a year, but he did not want to keep Aziraphale waiting for too long.

After a few minutes, he proudly poured the hot chocolate into a mug. Now for the garnish. Whipped cream, marshmallows, chopped chocolate, candy cane, flake, cinnamon stick – the mug was too small.

“Don’t you dare,” Crowley hissed at it but he refrained from using a miracle because Aziraphale was snobbish about miracled food.

His hands were sticky with a mix of hot chocolate, whipped cream and marshmallows (because naturally he had spilled something) when bringing Aziraphale the mug but Aziraphale’s delighted and grateful expression made up for it. Another successful stage of his plan!

“This is very good. Where did you learn how to make it?”

“Not that difficult, really.” Crowley dropped down on the sofa in exhaustion.

“Won’t you have some, too?”

Oh, right. That was a thing, drinking hot chocolate together after a walk in the snow. “Of course, just getting mine…”

So, back to the kitchen. Saucepan, milk, cocoa powder, miracle, candy cane, done.

Hot chocolate was not Crowley’s favourite drink (especially not with hurried demonic miracle flavour) but it warmed him up. That, and watching Aziraphale with his flushed cheeks and content smile savour his drink.

“So. This place isn’t half bad,” Crowley said.

“It is absolutely lovely. Maybe we could, I don’t know… return here next year for a day or two?”

Returning sounded good, a day or two not good enough. Time to fortify the temptation.

“We could stay for tonight. Go for another walk. Could go at night, snow in the moonlight – looks nice, doesn’t it? Or tomorrow we could go to – to – to the hill. It’ll be a nice view from there, all the snow and…trees!”

“That does sound rather nice. But we couldn’t just stay here, could we?”

“Why not?”

“Well, it must belong to a human.”

“Yeah, it does. But the owner said it’s free for the next few…” centuries, decades, years “…months.”

“I see. In that case...” Aziraphale gave him a questioning glance as if waiting for Crowley to say it.

“Yes?” Crowley leant forward, waiting for Aziraphale to say it.

“I mean, as it is already getting dark…”

“Yes, very dark.”

“I mean, we could stay for one more…day, I suppose. Go for another walk in the snow.”

“Great.” Crowley gulped down the rest of his hot chocolate (and offered Aziraphale the candy cane). Everything was going according to plan, he had reached his goal for today. He would initiate the next stage of the plan tomorrow. For now, he could relax for a bit, and he really needed the break from all the minor or major miracles of the last few days, and the bloody snow. He sagged down further into the cushions of the couch. Warmth started to crawl back into his body, from his hands, which had held the mug with the hot drink, to his core until finally his whole corporation felt pleasantly heavy. Aziraphale seemed perfectly content, nibbling on his candy cane, and so Crowley could be, too. His breathing slowed down and he closed his eyes for a bit. Everything was so warm and nice and safe and… wait, what was that? He did not remember getting under a blanket. But it was a nice blanket. Very soft and very warm. He slowly blinked his eyes open. Everything was brighter. Where were his – ah. His glasses had been placed on the coffee table, next to five empty mugs and a stack of books. Oh no, was he back in the bookshop? But no, the bookshop was more dusty and stuffy. He was still in the cottage. They were still in the cottage. Aziraphale was sitting in the chair opposite Crowley, entirely engrossed in the book in his lap. Sometimes the hint of a smile would tug at the corners of his lips.

This was what Crowley had imagined. Well, not completely, to be honest. For example, he had not envisioned being covered with a woollen tartan blanket but the damage was done, no need to throw it away now. Besides, he was so very comfy in his cocoon of warmth. He stretched sleepily and wrapped the blanket more firmly around himself.

Aziraphale looked up from his book and the hint of a smile turned into a full smile when he caught Crowley’s eye. “Oh, you’re awake.”

That was food for thought, that Crowley got a bigger smile than the books. Crowley was not prepared for this – this – this four-letter word, all of it directed at him so openly.

“How long have I been…?”

“A bit more than two weeks, I think. Ah, maybe three. I haven’t been keeping track of time very thoroughly.”

“Two or three-?” Crowley sat up and got tangled up in the blanket. “But…” All of his careful laid out plans and he had simply overslept!

“It’s fine. I contacted the owner of this cottage. She said she did not have any other bookings and that we could stay for as long as we wanted. In fact, she seemed to be under the impression that we were going to stay for a bit longer anyway.”

And now that woman had messed it up even more! What was Aziraphale thinking? “Ah. Humans. Don’t really have a grasp on time,” Crowley tried to play it down.

Aziraphale placed a bookmark into the book, closed it and put it on the table. “I’ve been thinking.”

Oh no. “We need to talk?” Crowley ventured, dread growing, because those words were just as ominous.

“Yes.” Aziraphale folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them. Then he looked back up at Crowley. “Do you want to stay here?”

Of course he had worked it all out. Clever bastard. Stupid of Crowley to think otherwise, stupid of him to fall asleep and let Aziraphale overthink it for two or three weeks instead of being distracted and tempted by hot chocolate, ciabatta and little bookshops for sale.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale prodded.

How could he get out of this situation with both of them keeping their dignity intact? “Er, mnk. It’s not that bad here? I guess I could see myself staying here. Just, nhm, sleeping for a bit, you know.”

“And…do you want us to stay here…together?” Aziraphale’s voice had gone almost inaudible on the last word.

Crowley gave a big, hopefully very casual shrug that was meant to communicate just how unaffected he was by all of this. “I wouldn’t mind. Only if you want to, of course. Do you? Want to?”

“No, Crowley, I asked you if you wanted to stay here together.” Aziraphale’s voice had grown louder again, almost resolute now.

There was no way out of this. No shrugs, no half-answers, not even falling asleep for another few weeks could get him out of this situation. Right, be brave now.

He looked at Aziraphale and Aziraphale looked calmly back at him. It suddenly did not seem so frightening anymore. It would be fine, whatever he said. Aziraphale would still shelter him from the rain or help him walk on snow; would never cast him away.

Crowley gave a jerky nod.

“Good.” Aziraphale smiled tentatively. “Then we will stay here.” He nodded, as if to confirm it to himself, then grabbed his book with trembling fingers.

“Your hands are shaking,” Crowley said.

“Indeed, they are.” Aziraphale watched his own fingers as they opened the book on the page he had marked. “It’s just a lot.”

“I get that.” Crowley really did. He knew that Aziraphale by now had probably worked out the details of his plan with the numerous miracles to get them here and it should be humiliating but somehow it was okay because Aziraphale was just as nervous and was willing to do this with Crowley. “We don’t have to right now, we could just come here on vacation once a year or-”

“No, I want to.”

Huh. That had been easier than expected. Several stages of the plan were suddenly redundant. “What about your bookshop?”

“I was under the impression that you had already purchased that little bookshop in town?”

“Not yet but…I could.”

“Right.”

Crowley noticed how tensely Aziraphale’s fingers held the book, almost crumpling its pages. He knew how much Aziraphale loved his bookshop, and although it was flattering to think that Aziraphale would give it up for him, he never wanted Aziraphale to give anything up. “Or you could keep your bookshop. London’s not that far. We could go there once a week so you can open it every Tuesday or so. Won’t make much of a difference for the customers.”

Aziraphale considered it for a moment but then he shook his head. “No. I want to live here, I really do. It is perfect. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Crowley was lost for words. They were here, together, and they were going to stay. What else was there for him to say or do? Perfect, yes.

“I hope you’re well rested?” Aziraphale asked. “Because I’m planning on taking you up on that promise of a moonlight walk in the snow.”

“There’s still snow?!” Hadn’t he slept long enough?

“Indeed there is, and it looks marvellous.”

“Guess I owe you.”

After being asleep for so long in the warmth of the cottage, the cold outside was a bit of a shock. Aziraphale offered his arm again to assist Crowley, who, after a few uncoordinated steps, got the hang of walking on snow much quicker this time.

“Still hate snow,” he grumbled but it wasn’t that bad really.  Yes, it was bloody cold but there were some upsides. Like the snow glistening in the moonlight and Aziraphale still holding him close, which wasn’t strictly necessary anymore and therefore even better.

They were on their own, not a sound to be heard but their breathing and the rustling of their coats. In the distance, the village laid asleep, no lights to be seen, just the smoke from the chimneys showed that humans lived there.

They walked towards the forest. The snow covering the ground was untouched but for some tracks that animals had left. The branches of the trees were hanging low with the weight of the snow. Everything felt a little unreal, it couldn’t be further from London’s hectic and loud atmosphere. It made Crowley all the more aware of everything, like how close they were pressed together. Aziraphale with his thick winter coat felt like a big comfy cushion against Crowley’s side.

They kept walking for hours like this, sometimes exchanging a few hushed words but mostly just enjoying the stillness of the world. Just walking and being here, no deeds to be done, no need to tempt or plan or work miracles. They kept walking until the break of dawn. Without discussing it, they directed their steps towards the village where one by one the lights in the houses went on.

“How do-ooaah!” Something hit Crowley right in the face and he staggered, lost his footing and landed on his bottom in the snow. “What was that?”

“I believe a-” Aziraphale ducked to avoid the next missile “-snowball. How rude.”

“Snowball.” The best thing about snow. Crowley was already sculpting his own snowballs and then started the counter attack. He liked sleeping, good food and moonlight walks well enough but he was still a demon, and using that annoying, squishy, cold stuff for snowball fights – brilliant idea. He was chasing the screaming kids around, bombarding them with his snowballs, ignoring Aziraphale’s complaints (“Crowley, you can’t use miracles against children!”).

“He’s the Antichrist, he can defend himself!” And his friends could just as well. Only when Crowley let snowballs the sizes of snowmen rain down on them, did they retreat.

“Was that really necessary?” Aziraphale admonished him while patting down the snow from Crowley’s coat, scarf and hair.

Crowley cackled. “That was fun.” He snapped his fingers for a new pair of sunglasses because the other one had been lost in the fight and was now probably buried somewhere in the snow.

“You look frozen. Let’s head back and warm you up. Maybe with some of that delicious hot chocolate you made. Are there still ingredients left or do we need to buy something?”

“I think we still have some,” Crowley said, thinking of the nine cartons of milk in the Bentley’s boot.

Back in the cottage, Crowley miracled his clothes dry and headed for the kitchen. Aziraphale followed him.

“How did you learn to make such scrumptious hot chocolate? Can you show me? What’s the secret?”

“Uh, possibly the milk.”

“What’s with the milk?”

“You heat it.”

“Yes?”

“It’s bloody difficult! Milk’s always trying to boil over and it makes a mess…”

“Yes, it sometimes does that.” Aziraphale stepped next to Crowley and examined the stove and the saucepan. “I think I can handle the milk.”

Aziraphale turned out to be a natural in heating milk. No boiling over, no stench, no flames, no ruined saucepan, not even spilled milk on the floor.

“You’re good at that,” Crowley said in surprise and added the cocoa powder.

“Oh, well, it’s not the first time I’ve made hot chocolate. Would you pass me the whisk, love?”

Crowley crashed into the countertop and spilled half of the sugar he had meant to add next. He stared at Aziraphale. Aziraphale smiled bashfully, his cheeks flushed red. He knew what he was doing, that bastard. He meant it.

“The whisk.” Crowley cleared his throat because his voice had come out very undemonic. “Right, yes, sure.” He passed it to Aziraphale and then got more sugar and the other ingredients.

Emboldened by Aziraphale’s bravery, he stepped a little closer so their shoulders brushed against each other. Aziraphale stopped breathing but he did not flinch away. He was still smiling when he whisked the milk and the cocoa powder. Crowley took his time adding the sugar and chocolate chips. And afterwards, he just stayed where he was and even dared to, very lightly, place a hand in the small of Aziraphale’s back. Aziraphale wriggled a little closer and suddenly it was very easy to place his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Crowley could not tell how long they stayed like this, Aziraphale whisking the hot chocolate and Crowley staring almost transfixed into the saucepan, inhaling the chocolaty scent and the warmth and Aziraphale’s closeness. What did it matter, they were not in a hurry, and the milk behaved for once.

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

After Dark - Dallon Weekes x Reader (Christmas Calendar 2020)

Prompt: After dark (A date after dark? Late night cuddles? Surprise mistletoe?) from @kairaiimagines​ "Christmas Alphabet" prompt list

Word count: 702

A/N: I just realised that it's been over 2 months since I last posted a story. Oops. To make up for it, I'll try to get through the 26 Christmas/Winter themed prompts until my birthday on the 26th. Enjoy!

Pushing your hands deeper in the pockets of your coat, you sighed quietly. It was cold, really cold, and honestly you wondered what had made you think you needed to be here ten minutes early. Looking up into the dark night sky, you saw stars twinkling brightly, even over the orange glow of the street lamp you were waiting under. Just when you were about to regret that you had decided not to wear a scarf, you heard footsteps coming down the street. Turning your head, you saw a tall figure approach you, and immediately you heart speed up with excitement.

“Dallon!”

Pulling your hand out of the coat’s pocket, you waved and grinned as you saw the smile that pulled at your lover‘s lips.

“(Y/n),” he greeted, and you realised you would never get over the way he was saying your name so sweetly, “I’m sorry, am I late?”

You shook your head and got on your tip toes to meet his lips for a quick peck.

“Nah, I was early,” you shrugged.

“Sorry you had to wait,” Dallon mumbled, and gently took hold of your hand.

Through the gloves both of you were wearing you could not feel his hand as good as you would have liked, but your heart fluttered at the gesture anyway. For how long had you been dating? And you were still so enchanted by gestures like this?

“I could’ve timed arriving here better,” you grinned, and looked up at Dallon. “Shall we?”

For a moment he seemed to be thinking about something, getting lost in your eyes, but then he nodded.

“You said you wanted to go for hot chocolate,” he asked, as you slowly started walking.

“Yeah. It’s that one café we were still sitting in in summer, but now they sell take away, since they can‘t have the guests sitting inside,” you explained. “They also have pastries and stuff like that so if you’re hungry...?”

“I’ll think about it,” Dallon nodded. “So, how was your day?”

Hand in hand you walked down the street, talking about your day. You told him about the things that had happened at work, while Dallon tried explaining what kind of music he had written over the day, and complained about the person at the label he was exchanging mails with. Above you the stars twinkled brightly, and the shop windows were already decorated for Christmas. In some windows there were pine tree twigs and Christmas baubles, in others fake snow was arranged to look like a winter landscape. Some shops had put up garlands, others had written cute messages with chalk-pens against the windows.

Even though you were walking, cuddled into your jacket, you eventually began shivering a little, and more and more you started looking forward to a hot drink.

Dallon noticed of course, and stopped in his tracks, causing you to stop, too. Taking his scarf of, he wrapped it around your neck. Immediately the warmth engulfed you, and his familiar smell rose into your nose. Smiling up at him, you felt a blush rise into your cheeks. Again there was that absentminded look on Dallon’s face.

Curiously you studied his expression, but when he did not react, you reached one hand up to his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

“Dallon?” He flinched at the sound of his name, and stared at you wide eyed. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, just...” gently he took your hand in his, massaging it through your glove. “I was… I was wondering if maybe… do you wanna move in with me? It’s just… We’d be able to see each other more and I-”

“I‘d love to,” you interrupted his nervous ramble, ignoring how fast your heart was beating.

“Really?”

Immediately his eyes started glowing and a big smile spread over his face. Quickly he bent down to you and pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, leaving both of you breathless and giggling.

“Now… should we get some of that hot chocolate to celebrate,” Dallon suggested, a bright, dorky smile lighting up his face.

You nodded and intertwined your gloved fingers with his again, and together you made your way further down the street into the late evening city.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @robinruns (i’m just tagging you once :P)  @starduststyx @recommendedattheprice @jayloverthe3rd @lookalivefrostyslibrary @butterflycore​ @vamp-void​ @angelevansfalls​

Picture Sources 1, 2

[yandere-sins]

A Father’s Care

Part 1 [ - Part 2  -  Part 3]

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Rating: Explicit Characters: Fem!Reader, Endeavor / Enji Todoroki, The rest of the Todoroki-Family, minus Rei Word-Count: 5015

Warnings: Dub-Con, Actions that could be seen as Cheating, Molesting, Lemon, Violence against the Reader

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-«« 

a/n: Okay, I didn’t think this idea would get so out of hand but it ended up being way to many pages so I had to split it in two. Here’s part one and I just... ah, what did I do... Please, read with caution. (Especially part two, this one is still quite harmless...) However! It’s my Christmas present for you guys, so I hope you still can enjoy... it... to some degree, let me know what you think!

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

The holiday season was a joy for you. You could not remember a time you didn't like it, even with the hassle and bustle that came with the years that you grew up. Still, you always looked fondly upon the days, planning gifts and presents for your loved ones, wrapping them up nicely, and eventually giving them to your family and friends. Seeing their faces light up and maybe a tear or two when they remembered how much they wanted this or that - what else was there to make your heart swell and generate a little bit of peacefulness in your life?

You loved all the lights and twinkles around your home and the city. To decorate and make everything festive, only to sit back relax with hot cocoa and some Christmas movies, what better way to spend your free time could there be? Some people might be miffed about all the jingles and colors, but for you, the streets never looked better, never shone brighter, and were never more heartfelt than in these few Christmas days.

There had been so many Christmas parties in your life, before Christmas, and the days afterwards. Days, where everyone had been merry and joyful, laughing and singing together. It had never mattered to you what you did on these days. Karaoke, hot pot, going to a fair - everything had always been a joy. And once it was over? You looked forward to the next year. Each year the same, and yet you never got tired of it, no matter how repetitive it was.

But this year, this year would certainly not be repetitive.

This was the first year with Shoto. Gripping his hand a little tighter, you felt him squeeze back through the mittens, your head turning towards him, a bright smile on your lips. "I can't wait to celebrate with your family," you revealed, the excitement vibrating in your voice. And it was true, even with all the tension in your husband's family, you could NOT wait for your first Christmas together. It was a family celebration after all, and it would be the first you two had as husband and wife.

The wedding had only been recent, winter-themed, which was very fitting for you and him as you thought. He was partly your ice-prince after all, even if you did not just marry him for his quirk, and certainly, he did not marry you for yours either. It was way to minor anyway, probably not transferring into a child should you two ever have one. And yes, you were planning on one, maybe even… as a little Christmas wonder.

"Don't get your expectations up, I suppose it will be very mediocre," he stated nonchalantly, pulling the scarf around him a little tighter. "You know my family."

His last words were spoken in a half-amused, half-apologetic smile, and you immediately cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb over the cold skin of his. "Shoto, it will be amazing. Simply because you will be there and your siblings. We will have tons of fun and eat tons of gingerbread, it will be good."

Nodding hesitantly, he took your hand from his face, kissing your knuckles. "I hope so. I want you to have a good Christmas, [Name]."

"It'll be the BEST Christmas," you chuckled, leaning forward to kiss him. Him and hopefully his worries away.

Everything was splendid. You two were greeted warmly by Fuyumi, and even Natsuo showed up briefly for a welcome, before disappearing again. Shrugging, all of you decided to have tea, you, and Fuyumi instantly falling into chatter about how you wanted to decorate the rooms for your Christmas party and what you should cook. Shoto kept mostly quiet while you two brainstormed ideas as if there was no morning, though you always felt his reassuring touch on your back while you noticed him look around quite a few times.

"Is something wrong?" you whispered to him as Fuyumi went to get more tea water, and he sighed shortly before shaking his head, his attention shifting from you to Fuyumi, calling out to her. "Is father not here yet?" Shoto asked, and you felt the heavy tension that immediately fell over the room as the topic of the head of the family was brought up.

"Oh, well, no, he is. But he went out to find a photographer…" Shoto's sister explained, refilling the teacups thoughtfully. "A photographer?" Shoto asked, brows furrowing as the questions arose in his mind. Setting down the cups on the table again, you thanked her for the effort before she tried to explain what she knew, still somewhat vague on the topic herself.

"Yes… I think he saw it on TV that families take pictures of themselves on Christmas for postcards or something. He thought it would be a nice idea now that you and [Name]-" she made a short break to smile at you warmly, making you feel very welcome "-are married and over for Christmas. A memory, so to say."

Smiling back at her, you welcomed the idea as you found it to be quite cute. You knew not everything was okay and dandy, but you appreciated the effort Enji Todoroki tried to put into this. Shoto must have told him on some point that Christmas was your favorite holiday, and you could imagine it was because you were in the family now, that he was trying to make an effort. "That sounds like fun!" you chimed, and Fuyumi had a moment of hesitation before she grinned and nodded, agreeing with you.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the frown on Shoto's face, but you only brushed over his arm, holding his hand, silently trying to calm him at least a little. It was still tough for him to have a good opinion on his old man, but when he sighed quietly, you knew he was trying - for you.

Admittedly, you had never lived in such a big, fancy house before. Part of you had worried it would look weird to decorate a traditional, japanese home like this, but all the more positively surprised were you that it looked quite so splendid. "[Name]-chan, should we go inside again?" Fuyumi asked, rubbing her hands together. Both of you had been outside decorating for a while now, and your breaths were visible as much as the shivers in your bones.

"Yeah, I think we're done! Sorry, I went a little overboard," you laughed it off, quickly making your way back inside into the warmth. Discarding of your outdoor clothes and shoes, you slipped into your own slippers before marching deeper inside the building with Fuyumi, you two giggling as you passed all the cheesy decoration you had put up. It had taken you the whole day, but even the inside of the house was now decorated in candles and lights, colorful bulbs, and even reindeer statues in the hallways. Everything seemed splendidly like Christmas, and you wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

You found your husband in the living room, together with his brother, under the kotatsu, watching some news program on the television. They both looked up when you entered, Shoto lifting the blanket on his lap to let you crawl into the heated table with him, your body quickly sticking up to his warm side and driving your fingers over his soft pullover. "Done already?" he asked, pulling you closer to him, and you shivered as the warmth enveloped you.

"Yes!" Fuyumi chirped, having brought some new tea for all of you and handing it out to everyone. "How do you like the decorations, Natsuo?" she asked, giving her brother a poke with her foot until he sat up to participate in the conversation. "They're flashy," he grumbled, having a sip from his tea, appreciating the aroma of it for a second before adding, "But otherwise it's quite different from usual."

"That's not bad, right?" you asked carefully, gripping into Shoto's pullover a little tighter. It was a dangerous question, really, something that could turn the mood sour in a matter of a thought. But surprisingly, Natuso smiled, shaking his head. "No, it's actually quite ni-"

"HOME!" it echoed through the halls, a booming, irritating sound. Followed by loud footsteps, you noticed how all the siblings tensed up, especially Shoto, who you leaned against. Out of respect, you sat up, hoping to not look too casually next to him as you felt his fingers this time grip into your side, almost painfully so. Natsuo's relaxed, happy expression faded from his face, a big, serious scowl coming up instead, while Fuyumi tried to keep calm, a wry smile on her lips as she let out nervous giggles.

You could hear some grumbling from outside as the footsteps approached, but it was hard to make out the actual words to the voice. All you could do was hope that it wasn't complains about the decorations when one moment to the other, the sliding door flew open, Enji's bulky figure appearing in the frame. "There you are," he grunted, letting his eyes sway from person to person. Eventually, his view got stuck on you as he noted, "Oh, Shoto, [Name]. You're already here, way earlier than expected."

No one at the table dared to say a word, while Enji's where more of a fact than really a question. So as the uncomfortableness spread, you decided you would be the one to speak up, putting on your best smile before facing him. "Oh, yeah. We actually wanted to come early and help with the preparations… and decorations," you laughed, and he nodded in understanding.

Honestly, you two had never talked much before, you had barely met him before your wedding too, so it was awkward enough talking to him, if not for the three sullen children with you at the table. "Oh… yeah, the decoration. They are…" he took a moment to look back over his shoulder into the hallway, giving it a proper inspection once more. "... quite delightful."

At that, you could barely hold your pride, giving Fuyumi a short, triumphant glance. You two had made it, you actually had decorated the house in a way the great Endeavor would approve of. She looked at you with the same happiness, and you two grinning idiots turned your attention back to Enji as he finally entered the room. Natsuo looked like he was about to jump up and run, but all of you kept your composure as Enji sat down at the table, receiving a cup of tea from Fuyumi too.

"How was it at the photographer, Dad?" she asked, and he grunted instead of a thanks as she gave him the tea, sipping on it. "He's booked for tomorrow morning, everyone should be ready by then."

A wave of agreement went through everyone in the room. However, Natsuo was the first one to break out of the family gathering after receiving the information he needed. "I got to finish up some work on my laptop. I'll go ahead first." For a second, Fuyumi tried to hold him back before releasing him, a wave of good night's falling from everyone's mouth. "We are quite tired too," Shoto noted, brushing off the warming blanket from his legs in an attempt to leave too. "[Name] did a lot of decorating, and we need to settle in."

Giving Fuyumi an apologizing look, she waved you two off, even though you felt bad for leaving her with her dad. Then again, from everyone, she had the probably best relationship with him. "You two do that," Enji mumbled, continuing sipping on his tea. "See you tomorrow then," you chuckled, trying to sound rather joyful still as Shoto led you out of the room by hand, closing the door behind you.

"Are you sure, Fuyumi will be okay?"

"She'll manage," he sighed, feeling the same kind of burden you had felt over leaving her behind.

But what you two did not notice anymore, was the look Enji sent after you two while Fuyumi told him about the decorating process and peeled some tangerines. The way he looked at you was like he seemed to know something you had yet to think about, his glare hotter than anything Shoto could produce. You were to find out soon just how different families were, even when they were celebrating something so lovely as Christmas.

"NATSUO!" it boomed through the hallways as Endeavor called for his son, who was the last one to come down from his room. The photographer, you, and Fuyumi shared empathetic glances over the loudness that shook even through bones, your sister-in-law returning your meek smile apologetic.

"It's fine! I am here!" Natsuo complained as he sprinted down the stairs, binding his tie as he walked. All of you looked formidable. Together with you, Fuyumi had rearranged some decorations to the background of your photograph, and every one of you had suited up to fit the celebration, no matter how heavy the air laid over all of you. The photographer was a sweet, older man who seemed to not be too bothered with your father-in-law's sternness, smiling at him whenever they talked even.

To you, all of this seemed reasonably normal and like a sweet family-thing to do.

But what you had gathered from Shoto last night, he seemed to view it differently, even upset his father would do something like that. Natsuo, too, didn't look too happy, deep bags under his eyes, and his jaw clenched. Fuyumi did her best to hide it, but even on her shoulders, you could see the tension, and beside you, only Enji seemed to be in a fairly good mood.

Adjusting the chair he was supposed to sit on carefully, he looked over his assembled children. Natsuo clicked with his tongue, and Shoto simply looking away as you tried to smile back at him. The photographer took his place behind the set up camera while Enji sat down. He was simply too tall to be in the photograph with all of you otherwise, and all of you squeezed together beside him, two on each side. You were sure, it would look like a great photo nonetheless.

"Ah," the old man exclaimed calmly, though you could see him pucker his mouth behind the camera in thought. "Young Lady…" he mumbled, looking up to make some eye connection with you. "Oh- Yes?" you quickly replied, feeling how the people beside you went from tense to impatient in a matter of seconds.

"You are out of the frame I am afraid… Now where to put you…" he explained, and you gulped, feeling like a burden, especially to Natsuo, who sighed heavily as the photographer thought.

"[Name]," a deep voice said calmly, and you turned to Enji, feeling Shoto's hand that he had on your back, push more into your body reassuringly. "Come sit here," he instructed, patting his leg.

If you had not known it better, you would have described it as hell freezing over. You didn't see any ice crystals coming from Shoto, but you felt the temperature drop quite a few degrees around you as the offer went through to you. "O-Oh, Dad! Maybe I should-" Fuyumi tried to save the situation, but she was quickly interrupted by her father.

"No. This way Shoto can be by her side still, and we will have the numbers even on the photo. Come on."

He patted his leg again - strictly and without a chance of refusal - and all of you siblings shared a surprised and shocked moment of quietly looking to each other. Even Natsuo seemed to have very mixed feelings clearly written in his face. But you gave yourself a push, deciding you would not be the one to ruin the family's Christmas by any means. He was sort of your father, after all, there was nothing weird about sitting on his lap - right?

Pushing the skirt of your dress down, you stepped inside his spread legs, seating yourself very far out on his knee and holding yourself as best as you could so you wouldn't weigh down on him. It was a surprisingly comfortable seat his leg spacious to sit on, even when the situation still seemed strange in your mind. Shoto's hand wandered from your back to your hand farthest from Endeavor, holding it tightly in his. His skin was ice cold, which was nothing new, but you seemed to notice it more now that there was quite such an awkwardness in the air.

When you thought you had settled quite nicely, you looked up again, nodding to the photographer who proceeded to get back to his camera. However, before even the first shot could be made, a large hand came around your hip, roughly yanking you towards your father-in-law. You took it in the best way you could, holding back a squeal. But reflexively, you had reached up your hand to support you, feeling a warm body under the tight dress shirt Enji was wearing. His muscles had never been so prominent to you than in that moment, but you snapped out of it immediately as you felt Shoto's hand restricting around yours tightly.

"Father-" he started, sounding like he was spitting poison rather than talking.

"No reason to be shy. We are family, right?"

With an open mouth, you started to nod, using your hand to pat Shoto's calmingly, shrugging it off to keep the situation calm. "It's fine, it's fine. Was just a surprise!"

He looked at you for a few, meaningful seconds before you could see him relax a little, stepping back and nodding. The photographer went back to his preparations as everyone settled in their position again. Even though you too put on your best smile, your thoughts were rampaging in your mind as you felt Enji's hand not budging from your hips.

While you had always admired Shoto's delicateness, this was so different that you could not help yourself but notice. Even with just one hand, you felt secured in his grip, even ignoring the lingering feeling of his palm against your buttcheek, sometimes massaging a little into your flesh. And though only your shoulder was leaned against him, there was an energetic drumming of a heartbeat running through you. A heartbeat so differently, so wild and overwhelming, it was nothing you had every synched yours too before. It was almost threatening to you and yet, thrilling. Like watching a very good movie, it was hard to focus on anything else.

"Everyone say 'Cheese'!" the photographer instructed, and you momentarily snapped out of your entrancement, blinking and grinning like the Christmas-enthusiastic-idiot you were. The camera shut once, everyone blinking a sigh of relieve. "Halt!" it boomed from the head of the family as you started to sway while Enji adjusted, sitting even more towards you and pressed up to you now. "I would like a few pictures so I can choose properly," he explained calmly, and the photographer smiled at him while you heard Natsuo sigh deeply.

Getting yourself ready again, you very faintly noticed Endeavor's free hand coming down to your knee, the other one still around your body to keep you in place. You fretted not having worn tights that day, but his hand rested calmly over your leg while you wondered if he could feel any stubble from shaving the day before. In fact, it laid warm and heavy on your limb, restricting your movements further and making you slightly turn away from your husband for the sake of accommodating the hand.

That one… was big too. It felt scruff against your skin, but its fingers wrapped nicely around your leg. Only now, you also realized you sat so close, Enji's head was right above yours. You were totally and fully enveloped by him, and you instinctively shifted a little more in his hold until a sudden, small groan caught your intentions. Apologetic, you looked up, ready to apologize for fidgeting so much when you met his sharp blue eyes, which looked down at you in a way you could not quite understand, other than it made you freeze.

Smiling weakly, you turned your attention forward again as best as you could, clearing your throat quietly as to not pull any attention and sat up straight. The pressure on your leg grew as the camera shutter did a few more takes, your legs slowly but surely and unwillingly spreading apart until there was no more room to go. Enji's hand was overtaking most of your lap as he slid it up further. Like you were sitting on his, so he was touching yours.

Until you felt it clearly against your leg.

A resistance.

In between the takes, you took one second to look down, seeing your knee was as far up as his crotch, pushing into it already and held there in position by your father-in-law. There was a creeping feeling on the lower side of your inner thigh as Enji noticed your concern for the position, fingers crawling upwards, soon covered by your skirt.

Nervously, you started to stir in his hold, but what you had previously admired, was now what kept you from going anywhere. 'Oh god,' you thought, biting your lips as the need to just jump up and back into Shoto's arms arose. This was your own family, but surely… to anyone, your position would seem wrong. Latest when you suddenly felt something throb against your leg was when you were ready to bail.

You spared one more glance into the direction of the throbbing. It was like the worst nightmare come true as you could see - even through the black dress pants - a bulge grow beneath the fabric. Every time Enji so much but took a deep breath, it pressed up to you, rubbed against your skin. You were no child, and neither was Endeavor, so you knew what that was, but when you looked up, his eyes were straight ahead, in all seriousness.

Taking a deep, quiet breath, you looked ahead again, too, trying to smile once more. If… he didn't notice, maybe it was all a misunderstanding? Perhaps you were just overreacting and daring to destroy a perfectly lovely family gathering because you were overthinking? So you got a grip on yourself, telling yourself to stop being an idiot and tried to ignore it.

The camera seemed to never stop as you kept your thoughts on positive things. Shoto, the decorations, Christmas! Right, you would not be the one to ruin everyone's holidays because of that little bit of inconvenience from you. Even when his hand crawled a little further up under your skirt, you still ignored it, gulped, and continued to smile. You even ignored the tip of his pointer finger against your sex, poking at it carefully while you tensed. His hand on your hip tensed too, pulling you closer and keeping you immobilized as if he was afraid of you jumping up and go.

The only thing you heard after a while was a grumbling in his throat next to you, resembling a chuckle before he pulled at your leg, pushing it even deeper in his own crotch region. By now, the bulge wasn't just big, it was enormous, fabric spreading all around your leg while you felt the hard inside rub against it. At the same time, he used his finger to swipe over your panties, hitting places he wasn't supposed to, causing you to let out a high-pitched squeal with your closed mouth, clutching Shoto's hand tightly out of reflex.

And then it was all over.

As if nothing had ever happened.

The pulling and squeezing up to his body vanished, and you were let go from his hold. No fingers or fabric against your leg and the camera slowly stopping taking more pictures while the siblings breathed a sigh of relieve. "Alright, folks. I think that's it!" the photographer laughed heartily, and you almost desperately jumped up from Enji's lap, stumbling back to Shoto's side, who gave you a questioning look. Surely, he had noticed the squeeze of your hand before, and your cheeks were colored oddly for a photo shoot after all.

Releasing your lip from your bite, you smiled at him reassuringly, hugging his arm and giving his cheek a kiss. As if you needed to reassure him when in reality, you were reassuring yourself. Even now, you still didn't want to believe what had happened, but it burned into your mind. Though you tried finding reasons such as age and just coincidence, you were still not convinced about Endeavor's real intentions, and you smiled sheepishly at him as he stood up and gave you a spare sideglance. One that, much to your own dismay, made your blood boil.

"I think I need a nap," you conveyed to Shoto, and you gained a confused look form him as he asked if you were okay. It was still early, after all. "Yeah, just… a little weird."

Looking back at your father-in-law, you saw him discuss the further production of the pictures with the old man, Fuyumi eagerly at his side, hoping to see some of them. "Well, that was strange," Natsuo mumbled as he passed you two, sneaking out of the room before any other 'stupid' ideas he would have to be involved in could rise. Nodding to yourself, you agreed with him, ready to leave too. With how complicated you were feeling, you wanted nothing more than go and rest for a while, sorting this mess out.

"Well, if you will excuse me…" the old man mumbled, grabbing his suitcases with the camera and bowing lightly to you. Fuyumi led him outside, and you and Shoto followed to see him off. Behind you, you were terribly aware of Endeavor's presence, and you let go of Shoto so you two could hold up with his chipper sister.

However, the moment Shoto was out of the door, you felt a yank at your shoulder, a familiar, big hand holding you back. "I have some decorations stored in my room. You should come and get them," Enji grumbled from behind you, sounding more like an instruction than a piece of helpful information. "O-Oh, I will do that later, Sir," you mumbled, smiling awkwardly back over your shoulder and meeting his sharp gaze.

"Don't take too much time," he grunted and passed you by. "Y-Yes…" you whispered, feeling incredible meek all of a sudden. His hand left your shoulder, and all of a sudden, you felt freezing without his body heat close to you. As if someone had just robbed you of your own warmth, and also clear thinking, you found yourself seeking the warmth.

Hugging yourself, you took a few deep breaths, feeling the pressure of having to go after Shoto or else he'd be worried, but barely able to walk. And then, you realized something that gave you a slap of shame over your head. You couldn't be surprised, but you felt the wet fabric between your legs, your head giving you short memories of the feeling of Enji's big fingers rubbing and poking right there. His heartbeat was like a metronome in your head, pounding and pounding in your ears, and you wondered if your heart ever could feel like that. You could imagine it clearly still, and it worried you immensely that you could not help but think about that huge, immense bulge against your knee. Even wonder about what was beneath these black dress pants.

Feeling your own body heat return to you, especially in your cheeks and ears, you quickly banished the thoughts, reminding yourself of exactly what you were thinking about. Of course, sometimes, these kinds of thoughts would come up when faced with something very different you were used to. It calmed you as you reminded yourself that you had surely wondered before what other celebrities were packing, it was… instinctual. Yes, instinctual.

"[Name]? Are you okay?" your lover's voice rang out to you, Shoto's frame appearing in the doorway. Immediately, your heart jumped in joy of seeing him, and you were relieved of the change of mind it gave you. You loved him so much. And you loved Christmas! To be together with him was all you wanted, and no little incident - no matter how weird and awkward it was - could stop that. "I'm fine!" you assured, jumping to his side and kissing him.

"I love you so much," you muttered to him, and his forehead wrinkled for a second over the spontaneous confession before his lips quirked upwards into a smile.

"I love you too."

You shared another, long, passionate kiss with him, sinking in his arms that he wrapped around you, knowing this was right where you belonged. This was what made you happy and thankful, and you were eager to show just how amazing Shoto could make you feel. A chuckle was enough to signal him just what you wanted, his body pressing up to yours quickly before he took you by the hand.

No one said anything when you two excused yourselves for a few hours to take a nap. However, you felt Enji's eyes drill into you while you, Shoto, and Fuyumi were conversating about the times you would be eating and needed to be up again to help. With a wave, you two said your farewells, for the time being, shutting the door behind you as you left the living room. It was a freeing feeling of the two orbs that seemed to not have let go of you as you were still in Endeavor's sight, uncomfortable and nerve-wracking for you. But you forced yourself to think about nicer things, like your husband at your side. And as he wrapped an arm around you, you leaned against his shoulder, you sighed blissfully.

Only for a moment, you couldn't help but notice the feeling of something missing. But how could you have ignored it?

Shoto's hand was just so much smaller than his.

[ionlydatesassyelves]

mods are asleep post more gay drabbles it's the only flavor i can write

modern human au where L and Luigi are seperate people who have to deal with each other, and then they also have to deal with Dimentio. because that's the only other flavor i can write.

((will format correctly in the morning because fuck tumblr mobile))

~~~~~

L wasn't entirely certain when a street performer had set up a magic show in front of his mechanic shop, but it didn't seem to be driving away business, so for now he ignored it. For several weeks, actually, he did a stellar job of ignoring it.

The performer stopped him one day on his way into work, sauntered into his path before the crowd with a dazzling smile. He conjured a rose for L and offered it with a bow, the trick met with cheers and applause.

L scoffed and moved to step around the attention whore, but his path was blocked again. "Not one for flowers, then?" the shorter man sang. He pulled the scarf from his own neck, wrapped it around the delicate rose, and pulled it away with a flourish.

He now held a bouquet of rusty wrenches and screwdrivers wrapped in colorful paper.

L couldn't help it, he laughed, the whole crowd laughing and applauding as well. The man bowed again, and this time L accepted the gift, and he was at last allowed to go on his way.

He pulled the bouquet apart once he entered the shop--not excellent tools, gathered probably from the dump, but the gesture was still hilarious. Once L had unwrapped the paper, he found a card nestled among the tools. No number to call, no elaboration on the givers identity. Only a name.

"Dimentio"

L tried very hard not to hope Dimentio would be hanging around outside his shop again, but he couldn't help being glad to see the thin boy stood up on a box and talking excitedly to the crowd before him.

L elected to spare five minutes to be late for work and watch a couple of Dimentio's tricks. Dimentio smiled when he spotted him in the crowd, asked him to pick a card at one point and summoned it from a little girls knit cap. The girl was delighted, her mother twofold, and she let the little girl hand Dimentio a sizeable tip at the end of the show.

L was more than disappointed he couldn't spare the cash to at least tip Dimentio. He knew Luigi often liked to leave a parting gift for hard working performers that had made him smile, and Dimentio had done that two days in a row. Which was not an easy feat, given L's situation.

The thought pressed firmly at the back of his mind all day. Eventually, he decided to take an early lunch and bolted to catch Dimentio outside.

The performer was gathering tricks and props into a worn duffle bag by this hour, moving onto a different spot. L called out to him before he could go, and Dimentio seemed surprised to see him again.

"I'm afraid you've missed the encore," he teasingly replied, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Nah, I got enough of your flashy tricks, thanks," L returned. He jogged over to meet Dimentio on the corner, and it was more apparent without the box that Dimentio stood more than a full head shorter than him. It was also more apparent he wasn't wearing shoes.

L frowned down at the sidewalk, taking in the boys pale toes and wondering if he was okay. It wasn't the coldest of the year yet, but it was still far from warm.

Dimentio shifted in place, seemingly eager to get on. He smiled at L anyway. "To what do I owe the pleasure then?"

L ran a hand through his messy hair. He was never very good at this. "You eat yet?"

There was a laugh, and L smiled again. It was different than the stage laugh. Dimentio choked on it a little suddenly, and his voice cracked on the end of it. "Was than an invitation?"

L snorted and jerked his head over his shoulder, walking back towards his shop. He was thrilled that Dimentio followed him.

There wasn't much to the shop, but there was a small, worn couch tucked away in a tiny back room where L could retreat to relax and warm up a little. Dimentio left his pack at the door and happily settled onto the couch with his legs folded under him. L tried not to sit too close to him, but it was difficult to not squish in the small space.

L brewed hot coffee for them both and they shared the sack lunch L had brought for the day. He tried to get Dimentio to eat the whole sandwich, insisting he could make something later, but Dimentio refused to touch more than half of anything.

They sat and talked in the warm little nook for some time longer than they probably should have, but eventually Dimentio went on his way.

L didn't mean to go on and on to Luigi every time this happened afterwards, but eventually Luigi encouraged him to take enough food for L and Dimentio to both have a decent lunch. Gradually, their dates became routine enough that Dimentio swung by the shop even when he had been performing elsewhere that morning.

L didn't quite realize he had a crush until the afternoon the windchill picked up and he gave Dimentio an old coat. It swallowed him up, but he had thanked L sincerely, and stood on tiptoes to give L a kiss on the cheek before he left that day. L didn't want to admit he had spent the rest of the day finding his fingers softly touching the spot, but he did.

It was three dates after that when L finally worked up the nerve to scoot closer to Dimentio on the couch and kiss him fully. Dimentio was so quick to slide his arms around L and return the deep kiss. They wound up making out on the couch, and it wouldnt be the first time.

------

Luigi got to meet Dimentio three weeks after the first time L had invited him to lunch. Usually he kept to the quiet, shambly part of the city, but he'd been visiting a friend on that end of town and ran into Luigi on his way to work, mistaking him for L. They had laughed at the mix up, but Luigi was glad to meet Dimentio at last, and Dimentio was thrilled to discover L had been talking about him.

Dimentio had neglected to tease L about it later that day, but when Luigi told him that night his boyfriend was indeed very cute, the flowers and lovebites L had to come home with suddenly made sense.

Luigi and L both began to look forward to Dimentio brightening their days, either in the silly gifts he would conjure for Luigi before work, or the warm kisses he snuck around L's shop to steal. It wasn't uncommon for Dimentio to come up in conversation while Luigi and L ate dinner together.

Winter rolled around, and they began to wonder more and more where Dimentio called home. If he was safe at night, or at least warm.

L stayed up later pacing some nights, wondering where Dimentio might be and if he was okay. Some days his make out session with the preformer turned into something more, and L could give Dimentio an hour or more of warmth and comfort. But Dimentio always left into the bitter cold with L's old jacket pulled tight around his thin form, bare feet against the cold sidewalk, but no less a spring in his step or spark in his smile.

L began working late and hoarding spare change, cutting little treats for himself where he could to gather up a little bit of extra cash. When Luigi finally asked what he was up to, if he needed help with anything, L admitted he wanted to get Dimentio something warm to wear. At least some new shoes. Luigi gave him the sweetest, warmest smile, and began working overtime as well, adding extra tips to L's fund.

L was beyond tickled the day he finally could lead Dimentio into his worn shop hand in hand. After they ate and exchanged their usual quips, L reached behind the couch and handed Dimentio a very large plastic bag. They couldn't do much to wrap the gift, but Dimentio took it with a bewildered grin. "What is this, now?"

"Call it an early Christmas..." L muttered, sitting back and trying to appear as casual as possible. He was sitting on pins and needles, praying Dimentio didn't notice.

Dimentio eagerly set to digging through the bag, but his motions soon slowed. He pulled out two large, fluffy sweaters in bright colors, and a wool scarf with matching hat, holding all the items in a bundle against his chest. He turned and gave L a shaky smile, like he was waiting for the punchline. "...is this for me?"

"Yeah, it's for you," L almost laughed. "Don't want you to fuckin blow away in the wind out there."

Dimentio turned very quickly back to the gifts in his lap. He looked like he might cry. He busied himself instead pulling the box from the bottom of the bag and opening the lid with a quiet gasp.

"They're a little worn..." L apologized as Dimentio ran his fingers thoughtfully over the black boots. "We found them at a thrift store but, uh... I really didn't want you to freeze..."

Dimentio smiled, and choked a little. "I love them." he said quietly.

He tried them on, and they were a size too big, but only half a size with the colorful wool socks Luigi had tucked into the box. They were big and bulky especially since Dimentio didn't bother lacing them, but they somehow suited him when he kicked his legs back and forth on the couch, and L couldn't help smiling.

He pressed his face into L's shoulder and wrapped his arms tightly around the larger man. "I love them," he repeated.

L tried not to respond "I love you too."

Dimentio hung out around the shop the rest of the day, leaving only when L locked up for the night. L insisted he might as well come over for dinner, but Dimentio fidgeted anxiously and insisted he couldn't owe L any more favors.

L wrapped both arms around Dimentio and kissed him slow and deep. "You don't owe me. Just stay safe, okay?"

Dimentio winked, adjusting his scarf around his face to hide the bright blush coloring his cheeks. "No promises."

L bit his lip, but he steeled his nerves and tightening his grip before dimentio's fingers could slip from his. He had to know. "You got somewhere warm to sleep right?"

Dimentio gave L a peck on the cheek and squeezed his hand. "I'll find somewhere."

And then he left.

L couldn't sleep that night.

The thought of Dimentio huddled in the freezing streets was keeping him up. He had already been sick with worry, but previously he could chalk it up to paranoia. Now it had been confirmed, Dimentio was homeless. It wasn't fair. Nothing was in this awful city, but that especially tore L up.

Four times, L almost asked Luigi if he could invite Dimentio to stay. But every time he tried to come up with a reason, he felt like he was asking to keep a dog, which was both insulting to Dimentio's independence and throwing another burden on Luigi. L hated both of those things, so four times, he shut his mouth.

The fifth time had been an impromptu trip to the grocery store, stocking up on essentials. L had commented idly on people looking like they were preparing for the apocalypse.

"Its probably the storm," Luigi had carelessly reminded him.

"...what storm?" L asked, face melting to horror.

Luigi sighed a little as he compared their cart to their list. "I told you, there's supposed to be a blizzard rolling in tomorrow. They say the streets are going to freeze. Oh--remind me to leave the water running tonight, we're fucked if the pipes freeze too."

L couldn't help his knee jerk response. "Dimentio's homeless."

Luigi's eyes flew up to meet L's, wide and shocked. He knew what that meant. "What?" he asked anyway.

"Dimentio's homeless," L repeated, his voice shaking. "He's out on the streets, I don't think he has anywhere to go."

Luigi took that in for about three seconds, then took a deep, steadying breath. "Let's hurry up here and get this home, then we'll see if we can find him."

-----

Luigi almost wrecked the car when L spotted Dimentio from the passengers seat and just jumped out onto the sidewalk. L ignored the frustrated scolding behind him and bolted towards the performer.

Dimentio had taken shelter from the falling snow on a high slope beneath a bridge, but when L climbed up he discovered that Dimentio was already shivering. He was bundled in several layers, but his nose and ears were already a pale shade of blue.

"Get up, you're coming with us," L said sternly, not waiting for a reply as he grabbed Dimentio's bag and slung it over his own shoulder.

"N-no, L, it's... d-d-don't--" Dimentio tried to stutter out a protest, but he was shivering too hard in the howling wind.

His effort was interrupted by L scooping him up off the ground--all the clothes put together probably weighed more than Dimentio himself. "I don't want to hear it. We're going home."

Dimentio didn't argue with that.

Luigi had managed to stop the car nearby when L struggled back down the hill with Dimentio in his arms. L didn't think much about taking the backseat on the ride home and holding Dimentio in his lap, but the preformer didn't seem very intent on moving, so no one questioned it.

Granted the rickety apartment wasn't much, especially for three people, but anything was better in a blizzard. Luigi took Dimentio immediately into the bathroom and showed him how the shower worked, told him to get clean and more importantly, warm. He left Dimentio a soft towel and some of his own cozy pajamas, and Dimentio still seemed at a loss for words.

While he was in the shower, Luigi made a warm soup for dinner and L busied himself cleaning space in his own room for Dimentio's things and piling spare blankets onto his bed.

Dimentio arrived in Luigi's pajamas and the coat he'd been wearing, and L traded it for a softer hoodie. He was still a little uncertain, but he seemed happier and at least the color of a healthy human again.

The three piled on the couch together and ate soup out of mismatched bowls, watching TV as they chatted late into the night.

Before they headed to bed, Luigi got Dimentio to gather up what little clothes he owned so he could wash them in the morning. Luigi also produced a spare toothbrush for Dimentio they "happened" to have, and certainly hadn't bought that day hoping and praying they would find Dimentio tonight.

Dimentio was grinning ear to ear by the time everyone was getting ready to settle into bed. L insisted Dimentio keep his bed tonight, and went to the couch himself, but the preformer clung to him and bashfully asked if L would be willing to stay.

They snuggled into bed together, squished in the small space, but warm and happy to hold onto each other. They whispered in the dark for several hours before falling asleep, sneaking in soft kisses here and there.

The storm did end up snowing them in for several days, and Dimentio was happier to be in the house with each passing hour. Dimentio taught them both several card tricks, and Luigi taught Dimentio new, flashy ways to shuffle the deck. They traded stories about the ongoing struggle against the upper class, laughed over preparing meals, and snuggled together in the quiet.

On the fifth day, news reports began to state that the worst of the storm had passed, and streets should begin to get clear. The weather in the early morning channels also seemed to indicate that the danger of freezing outside would be gone.

L found Dimentio staring out of a window soon following the newscast, watching the snow fall on the empty streets outside. L sat behind him and slid his arms around Dimentio's thin waist, and the smaller man leaned back against his chest. "So I have bad news," L began with a sigh.

"Mm." was all Dimentio said.

"The truth is, we've kidnapped you," he announced grimly.

Dimentio snorted, and L could just make out his smile in the window reflection. "Is that so?"

"Unfortunately, yes, you've actually been a hostage this entire time," L went on in a deadpan, sarcastic tone. He propped his chin on Dimentio's head, and a sigh ruffled his curly hair. "I'm afraid you're going to have to stay forever."

Dimentio's grin crept a little wider. His hands wandered up and rested over L's. "Unfortunate indeed... and if I were to refuse?"

"Well, Luigi gets attached easily, so you might make him cry," L informed him.

"Hmm. Tragic." Dimentio hummed. "You're not one for tears, are you?"

L shrugged carelessly. "Nah. I'd just drag you back here. What do you weigh, like eight pounds?"

"Probably six," Dimentio agreed. He squeezed the toned muscle of L's forearms latched around his waist and teased "Hardly a struggle, even for a weak shrimp like you."

L laughed into Dimentio's hair, and squeezed the performer tighter against him. He pressed a kiss to the top of Dimentio's head and murmured "I want you to stay. We both do."

Dimentio bit his lower lip - a failed attempt to control the excited grin on his face. His hands squeezed awkwardly around L's wrists, and he sucked in a short, thrilled gasp. "I'd love to," he managed.

[youmustbestrongernow]

If you find the time another prompt. Something fluffy, lovely and warm for davenzi? Maybe them just cuddling, enjoying each others warmth. Soft kisses. Them being totally in love after all the time they already are together.

Ah, I loved this one, soft and warm and fluffy that’s my jam. So this is pretty much just warm cuddles in winter, enjoy!

David didn’t think he’d ever felt tired like this. His bones ached with it, he swore he could feel them creaking as he moved. He felt cold and shivery too, he’d waited ten minutes for a bus and even when he’d stepped on board he hadn’t been able to get warm. The damp winter cold had seeped into his bones. There was a pounding behind his eyes, probably because he was tired and had been awake for almost twenty hours. It was quite possible he was getting a cold. His coat was still damp from the rain shower he’d gotten caught in earlier and he’d forgotten his stupid scarf, rushing out of the door at the crack of dawn that morning.

All he wanted was to sleep. For at least the next thirty years. Or most of the next couple of days at least. It was almost one in the morning and he was finally on his way home from work. The bus he was on was almost empty. Everyone sensible was already tucked up in bed. Exactly where he wanted to be. 

He’d been shooting a scene for his latest show, out on location, several miles outside the city limits. It was great fun but meant long hours and travel time. He’d been dropped off back at the studio an hour ago but it wasn’t a huge production. He didn’t get driven to his door so he had to make his own way home. Which was fine he supposed, if it wasn’t the middle of the night. It was times like this he’d wished he’d learnt to drive. He should’ve just gotten a taxi but even though he was doing well it felt too much like splashing the cash, especially when the bus stop was just down the road.

There was no point dwelling on it, he was practically home now anyway. He took out his phone and sent a text to Matteo, telling him he’d be five minutes. There was no way he was still awake but he sent it anyway. He got off the bus at his stop and made his way to his apartment. He was so close. The bus wasn’t exactly warm but alighting was like stepping into a freezer. He ducked his head to reduce his exposure to the biting cold air. 

As he walked under the streetlights he saw his breath in front of his face. There was snow underfoot, crunching with each step he took. He shivered and wrapped his jacket tighter around himself. Shoving his hands in his pockets and frowned in surprise, pulling his hands out again. There were thick woollen gloves in his pockets that he hadn’t put in there. No that was Matteo, always thinking of him. David grinned and pulled them on as he walked the last three minutes to the apartment.

His legs felt like lead dragging them up the stairs but he was almost home. Almost there. Just a few more steps. He decided he was going to collapse straight into bed and never move again.

Finally, he was home. He unlocked the door and stepped inside his apartment. He didn’t know why he was surprised that it was still warm, of course Matteo had left the heating on. The lamps were still on in the living room too, casting a soft glow over everything. He just leant against the door for a second, smiling at how thoughtful his boyfriend was.

He was too tired to eat but he knew there’d be food ready for him in the fridge if he checked. Matteo however, was nowhere to be seen so he must be in bed. Which was where David was supposed to be. He wasn’t going to waste any time. Their bed was calling to him. He shrugged off his damp coat and discarded his shoes by the door before heading straight to the bedroom, switching off all the lights and the heating as he went. 

Slowly he opened the door and just stood there, he couldn’t help it. The lamp was still on and he could see Matteo, curled up in the bed, blankets wrapped tightly around himself, sleeping soundly. 

He just watched him sleep for a moment, his headache fading away at the sight of him. All the tension he’d been holding onto melted away. All that was left was a bone aching tiredness. It was warm in the bedroom so David took off his hoodie and his sweater because Matteo had insisted he layer up against the cold. Something he was grateful for now. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and crept towards Matteo. 

Carefully he climbed into the bed, making sure Matteo remained tucked up in the blankets as he got in beside him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap him in his arms but he didn’t want to wake him. Instead, he just shuffled closer and lay there watching him sleep. The last traces of cold faded away as he got close enough to absorb Matteo’s body heat.

He always liked it hot. When David wasn’t there he would sleep under three or four heavy woollen blankets. He’d leave the heating on all night sometimes and David would come back to a roasting apartment. He used to worry his boyfriend would suffocate in his sleep but it never seemed to be a problem. On a normal night, when David was there he reluctantly shed a couple to snuggle up to David instead. David usually refused to sleep under five blankets. But tonight, after being outside for so long he was glad of the warm cocoon Matteo had created for them.

As hard as he tried not to wake him, Matteo sensed that he was there and reached for him in his sleep. David pushed off one of the blankets and pulled him into his arms, wrapping him up tight, pressing tender kisses to his forehead. Matteo smiled in his sleep and slowly blinked awake.

“You’re home,” he whispered.

“I’m home.”

“You’re-”

“Late?”

His eyes drifted shut again as he tried to fight off sleep. “Yeah.”

“Missed you,” David said quietly.

“Missed you more, tired?”

He yawned widely, answering Matteo’s question. “Fucking exhausted. And I think I’m getting a cold,” he admitted, knowing he’d get instant sympathy from Matteo. He was terrible when he was ill and Matteo always took care of him anyway.

Matteo reached out he pressed a gentle hand to his forehead. “Hm.” He tucked the blankets tighter around him. “Did you eat?”

“Too tired,” David said.

That finally got Matteo to open his eyes properly. He huffed squinted at him but didn’t push. It was so late now it would give him a stomach ache if he ate. He was sure Matteo would feed him up in the morning.

“Work tomorrow?”

Tomorrow was Saturday, the first he’d had off in a month. Matteo didn’t work weekends so it meant they would finally get a whole day together. Or what was left of it after David had slept for a thousand years. “No, I’m all yours.” Matteo’s face lit up, an excited smile on his lips that David just had to kiss. Soft and slow, just letting all the love he felt bleed into it. Matteo’s hand came up behind his head cradling him close as his lips parted and he sighed, just relaxing against him. God, he’d missed him, stupid work eating into all his time with Matteo.

“I’ll make you a big breakfast, then you’re just gonna rest and I’m gonna take care of you,” Matteo mumbled against his lips before pulling back slightly and stroking his hand over his face, tracing his lips with his fingertips. 

“I love you,” David murmured, what else could he say but that?

“Love you too.”

David pulled him closer and closed his eyes. “Sleep?” he suggested.

“No,” Matteo whined, “not yet I just got you back.”

“Ok.”

“Stay awake a little, please?”

He was exhausted and he wouldn’t last long but he would fight off sleep for a few tired minutes of Matteo’s company. “For you anything,” he said.

Matteo chuckled at that. “Sap,” he said fondly.

“That’s me,” David agreed. He groaned but dragged himself up the bed so he could sit up a little, pulling Matteo with him. As tired as he was he’d barely spoken to Matteo these past couple of days. Yeah, they had the weekend ahead of them but David ached with how much he missed him. He just wanted a few minutes with him before he drifted off into sleep.

Matteo settled against his chest and looked up at him. “How did it all go?”

“Why the hell did you let me agree to film a show out in the woods in January?” He tried to sound cross but he was too tired, it just sounded fond.

“I’m pretty sure I mentioned several times that it would be crazy cold,” Matteo countered.

“I’m pretty sure if you loved me you wouldn’t have let me make such stupid decisions,” David said.

Matteo huffed at that and David knew he was about to win this silly non-argument. “I’m pretty sure if I loved you I would’ve sent you off this morning with a huge flask of hot soup to keep you warm and- oh wait, I did do that, got up super early to make it from scratch and everything,” he said smugly, like he had every right to be.

“That’s because you’re the best,” David said.

“The best,” Matteo murmured.

“The best.”

“Yeah?”

David just kissed him again. “Tired?” He’d been tired for hours so he could deal with it a little longer.

Matteo shrugged, he was David could tell but he felt the same. He desperately wanted to stay awake just to be with him a little longer. “Just a bit longer, I really missed you today,” he said quietly as if he thought David would say no. Did he really think David would just turn away and go to sleep? As if that were possible.

Instead, he sat up, pulling Matteo off the bed with him, keeping both of them wrapped up in the blankets. Matteo whined but allowed himself to be pulled away from the bed.

“It’s snowing out, come on,” David said.

“David it’s one in the morning,” Matteo argued.

“Just to the balcony come on,” David murmured.

He made sure the blanket was wrapped tightly around and then guided them out onto the balcony, stepping into the trainers that they kept by the door.

“Oh, it is snowing!” Matteo leant against him, tilting his head up to the sky.

“Thought I was lying?”

“No,” Matteo said. He so did.

“Why would I lie about snow?”

“It’s so pretty,” Matteo whispered.

It really was, a blanket of white over the city, sparkling and glowing as it drifted across the streetlights. Everything was muted and still. Beautiful. David hooked his chin over Matteo’s shoulder. “You know what else is pretty?”

“You,” Matteo said.

“You.” David reached out and brushed the snowflakes from his hair. “You’re beautiful.”

With the light from the city below casting a soft glow over them, he saw Matteo’s cheeks pinken.

“You’re warm,” Matteo murmured, “always warm, I never sleep properly when you’re not here.”

“I’ll always come back to keep you warm,” David promised.

They just stood there on the balcony for a little while, wrapped up tight in the blankets just swaying together. It may have been snowing but with Matteo against him, he’d never felt warmer. It spread out from his heart all through his body, warming every inch of him. Since the day they’d met there’d been a fire burning in him for Matteo and it never stopped. It had been nearly five years and it never faded, never lessened. It burned as bright as ever. David was sure it always would.

[goodlucktai]

hello my old heart

natsume yuujinchou word count: 2798 written for @natsume-ss !! my giftee this year was @frootysparkycakes. two of your prompts were ‘everyone gets a nap’ and ‘parental fujiwaras’ and i thought a little of both would be good :) i hope you enjoy !!

read on ao3

x

Takashi’s face is wind-bitten and his feet are freezing in their damp canvas sneakers, but the cold air around him is clouded with laughter, and all the noise his friends are making rings up and down the empty streets.

“I hate snow!” Nishimura says brightly, clustered against Takashi’s left shoulder like a barnacle. He’s a bundle of scarf and coat and oversized beanie with a ridiculous pom-pom on the end. “God, who’s idea was it, anyway? Snow.”

Taki is on Takashi’s opposite side, her arm threaded through his as much for warmth as for support. She giggles every time they slip on a patch of ice, and Takashi’s smile grows every time she does.

“This is your fault, Shibata,” Kitamoto says darkly, a hand hooked under Tanuma’s elbow to keep him upright. It looks a little bit like he’s wrangling a lanky scarecrow. Every ten seconds Tanuma punctuates another near-fall with a flustered ‘sorry!’ and Nishimura counts each one under his breath. “You just had to have chicken nuggets.”

Right on cue, an affronted noise of protest: “Excuse me,” Shibata says from somewhere behind Takashi, “I’m not the only one who wanted snacks! Besides, it wasn’t supposed to start snowing until later tonight.”

“Stop whining,” Ogata demands. “You’re making this walk take even longer.”

She’s been out of breath since they hiked back down the mountain from Tanuma’s house, not used to the altitude and the terrain that Takashi and his classmates know so well, and the sudden snow doesn’t seem to be helping. Takashi glances over his shoulder to make sure Shibata still has an arm around her and they both make faces at him when they notice.

Nyanko-sensei bumps the underside of Takashi’s chin with his head curtly. If they were alone, he’d probably be squawking something like ‘watch where you’re going, clumsy brat!’ but as it is he has to settle for a very telling glare. Takashi mutters, “Yeah, yeah,” but he makes sure the cat is buttoned up all snug inside his coat anyway.

“We’re nearly there,” Taki says cheerfully. And then, “Oh, look!”

Takashi’s heart does something complicated and acrobatic in his chest when he spots a familiar figure through the snow. Touko is standing in front of the house, wrapped in Shigeru’s coat and glancing around anxiously. She lights up when she spots their group making its ungainly way down the road, clasping her hands together under her chin and smiling in that beaming way she has.

“There you are! Oh, I’d hoped you wouldn’t try going back up to the temple in this dreadful weather. Come in, come in! Let’s get you all warm.”

They make a commotion in the genkan, because Takashi’s friends can’t go anywhere together without making at least a little one. They lean on each other to help get out of boots and undo shoelaces and wrestle off various winter wear. Nishimura is shaking his damp scarf at Kitamoto just to be annoying. They’re all exhausted and sort of giddy with it. Shigeru is laughing behind his newspaper as they all pile into the sitting room.

“Snowed off the mountain, were you?” he says warmly. His smile is as much a welcome as Touko waiting outside for them was. “You’ll probably be stuck here for the night, I’m afraid.”

“There’s no probably about it,” Touko insists. She touches Takashi’s hair, the barest pressure that smooths the fringe out of his eyes. She is somehow both soft and stern as she looks around at all of his friends, a contradiction made easy by her caring. “And I want each of you to call your parents and let them know, alright?”

Tanuma’s father is away for work, Taki’s whole family is overseas, Shibata’s parents only know that he’s staying in Hitoyoshi, and as far as Ogata’s mother is aware, Ogata is still in her hometown having a sleepover with her friend Junko. The only one who takes out his cellphone is ever-agreeable Kitamoto, and he shares the call with Nishimura; the two of them pressed ear to ear as Kitamoto’s mother tells them to ‘behave, and thank Touko-san for her hospitality,’ and then tells them both goodnight.

Nyanko-sensei picks his way out Takashi’s lap and over to Tanuma’s. Tanuma looks a little pleased to have been chosen and then tries not to at Taki’s broken-hearted expression. Everyone starts to slump where they’re sitting, fighting yawns. Shigeru and Touko trade knowing glances, and Shigeru gathers up his newspaper and beer.

Takashi is watching them, because it’s been three years and he can’t help but watch them sometimes. Studying their expressions, the barest twitch of their mouth or eye that might mean they’re— upset, or that he’s done something wrong. It’s hard to break those habits that kept him safe in those other places.

If they’ve ever noticed the watching, they don’t seem to mind. Presently, Touko glances over and meets Takashi’s eyes as Shigeru steps out of the room, and she only smiles when she meets them.

“You’re all so tuckered out,” she says. There’s a kind laugh lurking in the back of her voice somewhere. “Why don’t you rest until it’s time for dinner?”

Shigeru comes back with all of the blankets from the linen closet, and Takashi’s friends make mindless noises of appreciation as he hands them out. His lined face is fond as Tanuma tries to juggle a fat lucky cat to the crook of his arm to take the blanket Shigeru holds out to him. Nishimura’s already half-dead to the world, face buried in Takashi’s stomach and a leg thrown over Shibata’s knee.

“How did this happen?” Takashi whispers as his foster father makes his way around to him. “They were wide awake ten seconds ago.”

Touko’s laugh finally makes its escape, a light and pleasant sound that doesn’t disturb a single drowsing body.

“You’re the same way,” she murmurs. “Ever since you first came to live with us, there were times when you’d drop off so suddenly, and sleep as though nothing short of a hurricane would wake you.”

Takashi gazes up at her, picking at the blanket Shigeru gave him, and thinks about how strange it is, that’s he’s been in this place for so long that Touko has little stories like that to share. That he came here, and he stayed here, and the Fujiwaras never asked him to move on or tried to send him away. They like him, and they notice and remember things about him that no one else ever bothered to notice or remember, and they would rather let all of his friends take over their sitting room than let them be cold for a moment longer than they needed to.

It’s a complicated train of thoughts, and it ends up a knotted, jumbled thing that he can’t put into words at all, and so he says, “Thank you,” because that’s what it usually circles back to in the end.

Thank you for the blanket, and thank you for thinking of me, and thank you for taking a chance on that strange orphaned boy you heard nothing but bad things about.

“Of course,” Touko says, reaching for the light switch on the wall. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

Takashi manages to lay down without disrupting Nishimura’s complicated-looking sprawl. The sitting room is warm enough that he doesn’t need the blanket, but the weight of it, and its worn-out softness, and the familiar smell of their laundry detergent, is a strange amalgamation of slow, syrupy comfort that Takashi kind of wants to bury his face in.

The wind outside is a dull roar, leaning up against the porch doors like an uninvited stranger testing the locks. It must be snowing harder, the promised overnight storm sneaking out ahead of schedule to make mischief, the way all winter spirits like to do. Comparatively, snug inside and surrounded by his closest friends, Takashi feels warmer than he thinks he ever has before.

“It’s strange that we’re graduating next year,” he murmurs into the dim room.

“About time,” Ogata replies sleepily.

It sends a pang through him, but he smiles anyway. “Yeah. I’ll just miss days like this is all.”

There’s a bit of a rustle, and someone grunts in protest when someone else digs an accidental elbow someplace soft, and then Taki’s tousled head pops up over Kitamoto’s shoulder.

“Natsume,” she says in her most sensible tone of voice. “If you want to cuddle at our new house, all you have to do is ask.”

“Not really,” Shibata yawns from some other corner of the room. “Even if he didn’t ask, you’d have to pry Satchan off him with a crowbar.”

“Green’s not your color, Sumi,” Nishimura replies without even bothering to open his eyes.

Shibata makes a sputtering noise at the new nickname, like a car engine trying to turn over. Tanuma snorts with laughter and then immediately tries to pretend like he didn’t think it was funny when Shibata whirls on him.

Takashi blinks up at the ceiling, turning Taki’s words over in his head. He says, “What new house?”

“Natsume,” Kitamoto groans. “Come on, buddy. We’ve been talking about it for months. Since last summer.”

Takashi starts to sit up, remembers that he’s acting as a pillow, and manages to hold himself still while his brain starts spinning around in confused circles.

“But that was,” he says, and stops. Another false start: “You were— “ He bites the inside of his cheek, wrestles the right words out, and says, “I thought it was a joke.”

Nishimura turns his head, hair still a mess from the weather and his stupid hat. His eyes are round and incredulous but not judgmental, and not mocking, and not mean. He says, “Why the hell would we joke about that? We’re sticking together. We have a whole plan.”

The plan is to get into the same university and rent a big house together in the city. Gotta be one that’s cat-friendly, his friends have laughed, bringing it up over dozens of lunch periods and two-day weekends, one with room enough for all of us, but he hadn’t taken them seriously.

“You said you wanted to,” Tanuma says. He sounds upset now. Takashi hates it.

“I do,” he replies quickly, because of course he does. He’s always wanted impossible things, what he knew he couldn’t have. When his friends talked about a future together, he smiled along and thought wouldn’t it be nice, and that was as far as he dared let those thoughts go. “I just thought it was… hypothetical.”

“Our parents are already looking at properties,” Kitamoto says dryly. “Touko and my mom were discussing it on the phone like three days ago. It hasn’t been anywhere in the realm of hypothetical.”

Takashi feels the familiar weight of his cat coming back to him, the split-second glint of sensei’s green eyes the brightest thing in the room as he settles into the crook of Takashi’s arm. Silent, necessarily so, but present, just in case Takashi needs to borrow strength from him.

“Are you serious?” Takashi asks, of no one in particular.

“Why do you think I started going to cram school?” Nishimura says, sounding offended, of all things, like this is a sacrifice he’s made that should have been respected. “Of course we’re serious.”

“We would miss this, too, Natsume,” Taki says. She sounds much more awake now, and he can only imagine the look in her eyes. After looking through a window into the face of a monster all those years ago, Taki can see through people with an ease that Takashi thinks even Natori is probably jealous of. “That’s why we’re going to make it so that we don’t have to.”

But it’s not that easy. It can’t be, it never is. Takashi doesn’t say anything else, but Tanuma asks, “Why not?” as if he heard anyway.

Takashi thinks of the half-empty book upstairs, guarded by a ward strong enough to make the chuukyuu’s eyes water from the backyard. The secret that only half the people in the room are aware of. The wall between himself and everyone else that he built stone by stone by stone, to keep them— and himself— safe from inevitable hurt.

“You don’t even know me,” Takashi blurts.

Nishimura sits up. Kitamoto makes a grumbly noise and starts extracting himself from blankets. Shibata says “No no I finally got comfortable, Tanuma, come on,” but Tanuma is moving, too.

Ogata says, in a kind, careful voice, “Natsume, of course we know you.”

“Not everything,” Takashi insists, feeling his heart start to move a little faster. “You don’t— you don’t know everything.”

Tanuma, Taki and Shibata are watching him with understanding and grim determination. Nishimura, Kitamoto and Ogata’s expressions are surprisingly similar.

“I just found out last week that Satchan is still afraid of dogs because one chased him when we were four,” Kitamoto says plainly. “I’ve known him since kindergarten and I found out last week.”

“I don’t make a habit of going near dogs,” Nishimura retorts in a conversational tone that also manages to sound like he’s picking a fight. “So it never came up until my stupid neighbor adopted an evil Corgi. That’s not my fault.”

Ogata whispers, “Evil Corgi.”

Going on as though he wasn’t interrupted, Kitamoto adds, “You can’t say I don’t really know him, can you? Even though I didn’t know he was still afraid of dogs?”

“I feel like that’s different,” Takashi says slowly, though he can’t think of a reason why.

“It isn’t,” Shibata says. His expensive shirt is all wrinkled, and there’s a pink crease on his cheek from where it was pressed against Tanuma’s sleeve. “Are we on the same page now? Can we go to sleep?”

There’s a gentle clamor of shifting and resettling, everyone sinking back into cushions and soft blankets. Nishimura lays down next to Takashi instead of perpendicular to him, tipping over to use his shoulder as a pillow instead.

“There’s no getting rid of us, Bakashi,” he says in a voice as low as it can go before it becomes a whisper. “You don’t have to be scared.”

And the thing is…

The thing is, he isn’t.

The storm is picking up outside, wind and snow battering against the porch doors with a vengeance; but the sitting room is snug, and Nishimura’s eyes are deep and dark in the low light, and Takashi marvels at how safe and warm he feels.

He brings a hand to his chest, as if to feel for the wall he built there, and finds it much smaller than he remembers. As though it shrank with time, or maybe Takashi outgrew it.

It’s either bravery or the lack of any real need for bravery that pushes Takashi to open his mouth without killing himself over what-ifs and say, “It’s just that any house I live in is going to be haunted. Really, actually haunted.”

Taki giggles, and Shibata makes that sputtering noise again, and Takashi can almost hear the pleased way Tanuma is smiling. Ogata hums a half-surprised little “oh” that sort of makes it sound like her best guess was just proven right, and Kitamoto sighs.

“Ghosts. That explains so much.”

Nishimura squeezes Takashi’s hand until Takashi looks at him. He’s grinning, the sight of him sleep-ruffled and safe and familiar.

“Shibata’s grouchy morning self is way scarier than any ghoul you manage to bring home, Natsume,” he says happily. “Nice try, though.”

In an hour, Takashi will wake up to the sound of poorly stifled laughter and a handful of ineffective ‘shhh’s. He’ll roll his head to follow the sound, and he’ll see his friends grouped around his cat, listening to him tell a widely embellished story about the kind dragon Takashi hatched once.

“It flew away?” Kitamoto will ask, sadness in his voice. “He never saw it again?”

And Nyanko-sensei will flick an ear at him, derisive. “It didn’t have any business staying as long as it did in the first place. But things have an unfortunate way of sticking to that Natsume, always leaving without asking and coming back just the same. Knowing my luck, he’ll probably see that Tama again someday.”

“I hope we’ll be there,” Taki will whisper.

And Takashi will look at them and realize Of course. Of course you will.

But for now, the room is dark and warm, and his friends are finally quieting down. Nyanko-sensei’s eyes are closed but Takashi has the sense that he’s keeping watch. If he listens very hard, he can hear his parents in the kitchen. He falls asleep still holding Nishimura’s hand.

The storm passes eventually. It leaves behind a blanket of fresh snow and a bright, starry night sky.

[the-silentium]

Mentally dense

Masterlist

Pairing: Eddie Brock x Reader

Warning: Fluff, snow

Words: 1730 words

A/N: Gif is not mine, credits to the owner. Winter is here my friends! Yesterday was the first snow day in Ottawa, so enjoy this little one-shot  ♡

The first snow has finally taken hold of the city. Many drivers weren't ready for the sudden change causing more dense traffic than usual. The kids were crazy about the situation though. Who never saw the fresh snow and wished for schools to close? To their disappointment, schools were still open to fulfill their part of the parent-school contract, keep them in prison away from everything fun life has to offer. 

Fortunately for you, school was only a bad memory. No more sit and listen, no more y/n stop daydreaming and read page 361 for the class and most important of all, no more prepare for the Beep test. Goosebumps spread on your skin at the mere thought of it. 

No. You were free. And damn did that feel good.

A wet nose pushed your palm with enthusiasm, Brier your golden retriever had yet to experience his first snow. You smiled and crouched to your furry friend, petting his adorable face. 

"Ready for a walk big boy?" A joyful bark followed and the leash was on his collar in a second. 

At the second the door opened your whole body was pulled forward. You managed to close the door, but not without slamming it, making you cringe and mentally apologize to your neighbors. In a matter of second, you found yourself outside, the snow falling on your face slowly, wetting your cheeks. 

Brier started jumping in the air, trying to eat the snowflakes and sneezed when he put his nose in a pile of snow. Laughing at the cute view of him rolling in the white carpet, you gently pulled on the leash to get him to follow you. The dog park was from far his favorite place to play and your favorite place to be as of lately. 

You see, two weeks ago you met a friend of yours who has a dog as well. It was a routine for both of you to meet there every Friday morning. That day, she brings a friend with her. Eddie Brock. To say that he was handsome was an understatement. You heard your ovaries scream in delight while your brain started to overdrive. It wasn't enough that he had the perfect body and lips to turn you on, he also had to have the perfect personality. You definitely fell for him that day. And hard at that. 

To top it all, he came back the next Friday. You didn't know if it was because your friend Sasha had invited him after you had asked her if he was single or because he wanted to be here. You were happy anyway, having the opportunity to pass time with him them. 

Today, you secretly hoped that he would be there again and maybe you would find some courage to ask him to grab coffee with you someday. 

The dog park was almost empty by the time you got there. Usually, there was not a lot of people, just a few elders who were enjoying their retirement with their dogs and two young men who moved in the city recently and worked night shifts. The snow must have scared the older ones because only the two boys waved at you. You waved back, letting loose your golden fluff and let him play with their samoyed. 

Two hands slamming on your shoulders made you jump and scream. A laugh reached your ears just when you turned around to hit Sasha on her shoulder. 

"That wasn't nice." You glared, adjusting your scarf around your neck. 

"Maybe for you." She continued laughing. Her shiba inu, Elias, was jumping on you repeatedly, asking for your attention. 

You happily crouched to give him the love he deserved when a new set of shoes appeared in front of you. Lifting your eyes, you felt your heart skip a beat. It always surprised you how much the man had an effect on you. You put the blame on his cocky demeanor and handsome facial features, but deep down you knew. His cocky smile was your weakness and let's say it, the mere sight of his lips was enough to make you shake in the inside. 

"Hey." He watched you from above, hands in the pockets on his jeans, a light redness across his kissable cheeks and his ever-present lopsided grin. 

You shot up and smiled when your brain finally registered the information. He was here again, as you had wished, resulting in your courage fleeing by the window in a hurry and leave you all alone. 

You hoped you weren't blushing and returned his greeting. Elias started to whine for attention at his feet and soon enough the man was throwing a ball to the now leashless dog. 

Only now did you really took in his clothing. You frowned in concern when all you could see on him was a black t-shirt. Well, he had a pair of jeans and shoes with socks, but no jacket or even a hoodie to protect himself from the cold weather. He was wearing a t-shirt at minus 5 celsius. You loved winter, but even you wore big socks at home with a big hoodie most of the time. Let's now imagine how many layers you put on to go outside.

"Eeeh. Sasha?" She hummed, turning towards you. "Won't he get cold?" You pointed at the source of your concern and object of your desire. 

"Oh. He is mentally dense. It's good isolation." You thought about it for a moment, both of you watching him play with the three dogs. 

"Make sense." You nodded and made eye contact with her. The laugh caught the both of you at the same time, catching a certain someone's attention. It has been a while since you laughed like that and damn did it feel good. 

"Seriously though. We argued for a good ten minutes, but this thick skull of his wouldn't understand anything. He said he wouldn't get cold." She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "He better not come to me when he gets sick." 

"Did I miss something?" Eddie's head tilted on the side, eyes searching yours. You couldn't stop but notice that he only watched you for an answer and completely ignored Sasha. That was it. The blush heating your cheeks forced you to lift your scarf in an attempt to hide it. Noticing your problem, your ever-loyal friend came to your rescue.

"Y/N wanted to grab a coffee on her way back but she forgot her wallet." 

You failed to find the funny part of it but definitely caught on the fact she was setting you up. Your first instinct was to punch her on the shoulder again but you quickly thought better of it. Maybe it would work. Maybe you could have more time with Eddie Brock and finally make a move. So you played the game. 

Putting an embarrassed smile on, you shook your head. 

"But it's not a big deal. I'll wait to get home before getting my coffee. At least I have my keys." You chuckled and met his gaze.

"You know what? There's a really nice café on my way home. Maybe I could buy you coffee and we could, I don't know, talk a bit more or plan a dinner?" He scratched his neck, a new shade of red spreading across his cheek. You couldn't decide if it was because of the cold or because he was seemingly asking you out and seriously, you couldn't care less. "Only if you want!" He quickly added. 

"I would really like that." Your warm smile made him relax and beam in return.

You started chatting, only stopping when Sasha bided you goodbye. You put the leash back on Brier's collar and followed Eddie to his café. To your surprise, his hand grabbed yours on the way there. You had figured that he must have been freezing, but you never saw him shiver or heard him complain about the cold. Now, with his hand in yours, you figured why. He was hot. It was like he hadn't passed 45 minutes in the cold, but had stayed near a furnace. Or maybe he was the furnace. You have heard Sasha complain about her last boyfriend who was a human heating system, maybe it was that. 

Accepting the explanation, you wrapped your fingers around his and enjoyed the feeling of your hand warming up slowly. 

----

You learned so much about him at the café and it did not help you in your goal to stop idealizing him. It's just that everything about this guy was perfect! His mom would have been really proud. 

He walked you home like a gentleman, your hand secured in his left hand when Brier's leash was in his right. The walk was silent, you both enjoying the presence of the other. Your home came into view too quickly in your liking but you couldn't help it. You were sure that if you took a turn to walk around the neighborhood, he would notice. At your doorstep, you both paused. You allowed your dog to get in to warm up his paws while you stayed outside, wondering what to do next.

"Soooo… If I was to ask you to dinner, would you accept?" He sounded so hopeful that your mental self started a little victory dance in your head. 

"I would definitely accept Mr. Brock." 

"I'll be there at 7 then." He kissed your cheek, whispered something in your ear and walked away from your stunned form. 

You slowly got in and stayed in place for a minute, assimilating what just happened. He kissed you. It felt like heaven. His lips were so soft and you couldn't stop yourself but imagine them on your lips. Then, it hit you. Removing your boots quickly, you ran to your bedroom and jumped into your bed, Brier following suit. You grabbed your pillows and hugged them tightly in glee, in embarrassment and in hope. 

"And you won't need your wallet. You can leave it at home for real this time."  

You reached into the pocket of your winter jacket and got out your wallet. It was a small one and your pocket was big enough that it would have been impossible for him to know you had it on yourself. You started giggling, looking forward to your diner with this oh so perfect man.

Tag List: @slither-in-a-half @a-frozen-bag-of-corn​ @noshi-chan

[galfridus1]

Happy Birthday Maja

Hope you have a wonderful day @emo-hedgehog-zeldris! Have some of your OTP, some snow, some angst and hopefully a bit of a happy ending.

Snow, pure and sparkling in the pale winter sunlight, crunched under his boots as he paced into the forest. Apart from his footsteps there was not a sound to be heard, the white powder swallowing up all noise to leave a silence ringing on the air. There were signs of life though. The ground showed tracks of a cloven hooved animal, presumably an elk, which appeared to have meandered through the trees at random, and the odd three-toed footprint of some sort of bird that had no doubt attempted to forage for sustenance. But nothing was moving now, no matter how hard he strained his ears. It was quiet and cold and very, very still.

“Arthur,” he called loudly, his voice booming and he winced at the noise. “This is a really, really bad idea.”

A slight echo was the only response. “Come on,” he snapped impatiently, gloved hands clenching into fists at his sides. “This is utterly stupid. Can’t we just go home?”

Still no reply. Zeldris sighed and strode forward, batting stray branches out of his way. The forest was full of pine, the aroma of resin floating over the frost and the green fronds of the trees bending with little piles of snow. His eyes darted from left to right, noting trunk after trunk and nothing but snow on the ground. There were no landmarks to speak of, just an endless stretch of woodland. Narnia must be like this, he thought to himself as he went further in, watching closely for any sign of anything that might give away Arthur’s location. Perhaps if he looked hard enough he would find a wardrobe full of coats.

“This isn’t funny!” he complained. The wet was beginning to seep through the wool of his gloves to freeze his fingers and his toes were also starting to ache. “I hate the outdoors,” he muttered to himself, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. “It’s too… unpredictable.”

He should just concede, tell Arthur he was, in fact, the best of the two of them at surviving in the wild - which he was, Zeldris had to acknowledge - and then they could leave and salvage what was left of the weekend. They had not been going out long and every moment was precious. It was his own boasting that had got him into this mess. Why on earth had he said there was nothing Arthur could do that he could not do better? Zeldris opened his mouth, but no sound would come out. Clearly Arthur was better at hiding in the woods than he was and yet still he could not admit defeat. He would just have to find him so this game could end.

More stealthily now, Zeldris crept behind a tree, casting a glance back along the way he had come. There were his tracks plain to see, and a few broken branches along with a marked absence of snow on the spiky leaves. Arthur must have left some sort of trace, he just had to find it. He looked around carefully, scanning the scene for anything that looked out of place, holding his breath as he saw it: a string of red wool caught on a branch some twenty feet or so off, the vibrant crimson standing out against the snow. It had to have come from Arthur’s red scarf. Smiling to himself, Zeldris began to move, stepping on the roots of the trees near the base of the trunks in an attempt to conceal his movements.

Carefully, he drew closer to the red that dangled down, lifeless in the absence of breeze, focusing on his destination and the placement of his feet. It was slow progress but he gradually made his way close to the strand of wool, and began to look around for other signs of the man he was hunting. He had almost reached the spot when he felt it, a sudden shift in the air, a tension and a buzz of excitement. He stiffened, determining to turn to face the threat when a faint whistle called and then, not even a second later, something very wet and horribly cold smacked him hard in the neck, the crack resounding through the woods. He yelled as whatever it was started to drip down inside his shirt, crawling like ice along his spine.

The laughter that followed made his teeth ache. “That. Was. Amazing!” Arthur exclaimed as he trotted up towards him. Zeldris did not turn round as his boyfriend approached, doing his best to control his rising temper. “You are so bad at this,” Arthur added with a chuckle. “I’ve been following you for ages. I could have got you with a snowball so many times it’s not even funny, but I wanted to see what you’d do and it was hilarious.”

“And why are you so good at it exactly?” Zeldris snapped as he finally whipped round, rubbing the back of his neck and shaking to displace some of the now-liquid snow. “You’ve left no tracks at all! What are you, some sort of ghost?”

Arthur snickered. “Oh, no I just know my way around. I spent a lot of time in these woods. Once I lived out here for nearly a month, or maybe it was a bit more,” said Arthur thoughtfully, his brows furrowing together. “Something like that anyway. It was a long time ago. I was only a kid at the time.”

“Why were you living out here?” Zeldris asked, curious in spite of his irritation. “Don’t tell me, it was some sort of environmental protest or to raise money for something worthy. You’re too bloody noble for your own good sometimes.”

Arthur shrugged. “Guilty,” he said with a grin. “I do like to help out where I can and the planet is important, whatever you say. But no, I lived out here for a spell because I ran away from home and I didn’t have much choice.”

“You ran away from home?” Zeldris looked at him closely, examining Arthur carefully. “What happened?” he asked more softly.

Arthur pursed his lips, then shook his head. “Aww, it was no big deal,” he replied. “Just… you know, one of those things. My family don’t like me very much and I thought, well, I thought they’d be better off without me. They certainly said so quite a few times. I stayed out here for as long as I could, then school noticed my clothes were… pretty gross, I guess. They made me go back. Well, I say back. I went into a children’s home, which is an experience I would not recommend. But this is all gloomy,” Arthur said with another chuckle, “and all in the past. No harm done. Let’s talk about something else.”

“I ran away too,” Zeldris whispered, swallowing hard as Arthur’s eyes snapped to his. “But I didn’t live in the woods,” he added acerbically.

“What happened?” Arthur asked, mirroring his own words.

Zeldris bit his lip. “My father is… he was fine when I was young, nice even. We used to get on really well. Then… something happened. His personality changed, and I don’t really know why. He started drinking. A lot. And he started to hate me. Really, really hate me. I remember one day, I was thirteen, I was heading out of the house to see a friend and he stopped me, lent down right into my face and squeezed my shoulder hard, really hard, and said, ‘Get out of my sight you pathetic shit’. I hadn’t done anything.”

Zeldris paused, forcing himself to suck in a deep breath. “Anyway, I decided not to go back home that night. When I left my friend’s house I just walked around, just walking the streets. It wasn’t really running away as such, I just didn’t want to go home. That was when Mel found me. My eldest brother, Meliodas,” he explained as Arthur cocked his head to one side. “He drove around the city looking for me. My other brother, Estarossa, must have called him to say I hadn’t got home and he came to find me. Mel brought me up after that. Got me through college. I haven’t seen my father since.”

Arthur’s arms were around him, tight and comforting, before he had even finished his sentence. He hugged Arthur back, the two pressing their cheeks together. Zeldris closed his eyes, throat stinging hard, unable to hold back the tears that leaked under his lashes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into Arthur’s ear. “Your family don’t know what they’re missing.”

“We’re family now,” Arthur replied, his voice muffled and choked. Zeldris felt Arthur’s heart beat against his own as they clung together, an anchor amidst a furious storm. He was right, Zeldris thought as the warmth of their embrace banished the chill. Whatever else happened, whatever life held, they had each other and that is what mattered.

[cilliansaccent]

The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 12

Hello, welcome back. Below is the next instalment of my fanfiction!

Leave a like or a comment if you liked it, or if I can do anything better! Please, it would mean the world and to understand if anyone is enjoying my writing. Also, sharing/reblogging would be even better.

PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!! 

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Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 5,076

!!Warnings!!: SMUTTTTT!!! All at the end!! 

Date: December 2016

Chapter Name: An Irish Christmas

Brief Chapter Outline: Gabrijela spends Christmas with Cillian and his family in their childhood home in Cork. She's tired but she’ll have a better reason to be tired when nighttime comes around and sparks fly...

Extra Notes: I’ve made up his parents names as we do not know their real names. 

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Gabrijela leaned against Cillian, head on his shoulder as he read a book. She shut her eyes, tired from how early they had to get up. Five in the morning for their eight-thirty flight. 

"Such an ungodly hour." She muttered and found the position to be uncomfortable. So she moved on her back, her head in his lap. 

He looked at her, "You'll get sleep in the afternoon." He leaned down, lifting her head up to kiss her. 

"But I wanna sleep now." She murmured against his lips. 

"Hush," He chuckled and resumed his reading. He rested one arm just below her breasts, she held on to it with a hand. She thought to what he had done this morning. She was packing her things when he had come up behind her. His hands roved over her breasts and he kissed her neck, "Cillian," She whispered before she was bent over the bed. Her jeans were yanked down and he knelt behind her until he ruined her with his mouth. He had moaned, "For last night." He said against her before she cried out and came on his fingers once more. 

She smiled at the pleasant morning and could feel herself drifting to sleep but it wasn't long when it was time to get up and get moving. 

She grabbed her carry-on luggage, she had repacked this morning into his bigger suitcase as he didn't need to bring to much stuff as he had left some things in his family home. 

They shuffled on to the plane, he helped her shove her bag into the overhead compartment then she slid into the chair beside the window. She grew nervous. She didn't like small aeroplanes. They justled to much when in the air. 

She hastily put on her seat belt, her leg shaking. 

"Are you okay?" Cillian slid his hand in hers. 

"A little nervous. I'm not a fan of small planes." She laughed softly, "Or planes in general." 

"Are you only doing this to get a kiss from me?" He was clearly teasing her, but he was still worried. 

"No!" She gasped. 

"Uh-huh. Look at me, darling." He tilted her face to his. 

"Prick." She huffed and he laughed and leaned in, kissing her deeply. 

"No, really. It is very nerve-wracking for me." She looked out the window, it was pouring rain. 

"It's okay. I'm right here," he squeezed her hand, holding it in his lap. 

"I know." She smiled. 

It wasn't long when the plane was ready and backed out with the help of a truck. She tensed when the plane bumped and jiggled on the tarmac, holding his hand tightly. 

Then it was ready to take flight. 

"Fuck." She whispered as the plane began to move, faster and faster it went. 

"I'm here. I got you, Gabrijela." Cillian watched her face, her eyes shut tightly as the plane made various sounds before liftoff. He didn't like it when he saw her so stricken with fear. He wondered how she came here by herself with no one but herself for comfort. 

"I hate this so fucking much. Oh god." She murmured, she hadn't opened her eyes. "God I hate it." Her heart was hammering in her chest. 

He stroked her knuckles with a thumb, trying to comfort her the best he could. 

Only when the plane eased into a horizontal path did she relax a little. She gulped as she opened her eyes and turned to see some very worried ice blue eyes watch her. 

"Okay?" He whispered, cupping her face with a hand. He was so worried, his voice wavered a little. 

"I'm okay." She placed a hand over his, turned her head to kiss the inside of his palm. "Thanks, Cillian-" She gasped when the plane wiggled. 

"I'll get us some tea, hey?" The flight hostess came by and he got her some tea. They were also offered some light snacks which she gratefully munched on. She hadn't really eaten this morning so she was feeling a little sick. 

The tea, however, settled her and she appreciated it a lot. But turbulence started and in a smaller plane, it was felt greatly. 

She cursed softly as she tried to press herself as much as she could into the seat, and she let out soft whimpers whenever the plane moved to much. 

But listening to Cillian's voice was the only thing that prevented her from having a full out panic attack. She felt something wrap around her neck, it was his scarf by the smell of the rich cologne he wore. And then the green bubble jacket he wore over her legs. 

Comfy and warm. 

The fear and tension left her, and she was feeling much better after fifteen minutes. He had lifted up the armrest between them so she could snuggle into his body. 

They had a shared cord that would plug into his phone, and they listened to some music. They stayed like that, holding each other right through to landing. 

Off the plane, they collected their bags and headed out to the area to be picked up. 

"My brother will take us to the house." He said. Despite the clear skies, it was very, very cold. Only ten degrees Celcius. 

Gabrijela was glad she was wearing her washed-out jeans, a hoodie that had a thermal singlet and a shirt underneath it. She still wore his scarf which was tightly wrapped around her. 

"He better hurry up, otherwise he'll be taking popsicles home." She grumbled. 

"Aha! There he is! Come on darling." He came to the car and beamed. 

His brother got out and they embraced, "Big brother! Good to see you! God." 

Gabrijela stayed back a little, watching them happily hug each other. It was so cute. She couldn't help but smile. 

"Paidi, meet Gabrijela." Cillian turned and waved her closer. 

"Hi," Gab smiled and shook hands with the younger brother. 

"Hello, darl. You look very cold. Why don't we get in? Ma is waiting." He said. 

They all got into the car, Cillian sat at the front and she sat in the back. The brothers chatted and she admired the scenery that unfolded. 

Cork was lovely by the looks of it. She hoped they could spend a day looking around. 

They headed a little out of the main city, to a small village Cillian was raised in. 

Then down a dirt road to a stunning stone, two-story home. It had white wooden borders around the many windows and a bright green front door with a Christmas wreath on it. The garden was impeccable, and despite its winter, it was all green. 

"We have a horse and some chickens," Cillian's brother said as they pulled up. 

And a wave of nerves slammed into her she could only nod quickly. She hadn't put much thought to this trip. She didn't realise she would actually meet his family. Well, that's stupid, she did but... God, she didn't think it would come true. 

His mother, father and his siblings. All there. Oh god, the questions. Did Cillian tell his family who she was exactly? She remembered he had said they would meet a wonderful girl. But did he tell them her age? What were they as a pair? A couple? Friends with benefits? What were they anyway? Would they think of her as some type of gold-digger, or some... young silly girl trying new things with an older man? The questions swirled in her brain she didn't realise Cillian had opened the door and was talking to her. 

"Gabbie." He shook her and she looked at him. "Is everything okay?" His brother was nowhere to be seen. Must've gone in. 

"I-Cillian." She breathed fast, "Is this a good idea? Oh god, I didn't think this through. Y-Your family, what will they think of me? Shit, I'm so scared." 

"Breathe. Come on, breathe." He said, taking her hands with one of his. "Breathe." He instructed and she did. "They will love you, darling. Do not be afraid." 

She looked closely into his eyes, he was sincere but also understanding. She reached up with a hand, brushing her fingers along his blushed cheeks. "Okay... Okay, Cillian. Okay." She nodded after some moments. 

"That's my girl," He smiled and leaned in, kissing her as he helped her out. 

That sentence made her feel things, her heart raced. His girl. She was his. Confidence began to build in her. 

Upon entering the house, as lovely outside, it was just as lovely inside. Warm, wooden tones with a very farm like interior. It had a serious Irish charm, and she could envision little Cillian running around and down the stairs. 

She spotted a picture, "Oh my, who is this?" She said as she came over. 

"Uh. It's me. I was only fifteen." He laughed softly. 

"Such a cutie with that smile." She looked up. 

"Do I hear my precious handsome boy?" An older woman came through the threshold that had led into the living section of the house. 

"Ma! Hello!" He hugged her. 

"Ooo, it is wonderful to see you, Cilly." She looked over, "And oh! She is just as beautiful as you had described!" 

Gabrijela's eyes widened and she looked at Cillian. He did what now?! She hugged the woman when she embraced her. 

"Oh my god, no, Ma!" Cillian was flushing bright red. He was extremely embarrassed. 

"Oh hush now. Come on, breakfast is ready. Kids have been whining all morning." She said and left them. 

"Cillian I'm going to kill you." She hit his arm hard, pouting at him. 

"Sorry! Ma wanted to know so badly. It's not like I have photos of you on my phone." He nudged her with his hip. 

"No more kisses for you." She jabbed his arm with a finger and he groaned as he rubbed his arm. 

They entered the very lively living room. Five young kids were playing before the fire, his siblings around a table that was covered with delicious-looking food. 

Then it was the introductions, hugs and kisses and shaking hands. She learned his mother's name to be Mary and his father Lachlan. Then breakfast was underway, light chatter across the table and the kids giggling. 

"How is my food?" His mother asked after a bit. 

"It's so good. Thank you." Gabrijela smiled. There was an agreement across the board. 

"Good! I am very glad you like it! So, tell me, how do you find our city?" She continued. 

"I haven't seen it much but it does look very beautiful. I'm a sucker for old, historical towns." Gabrijela said, wiping her mouth a little as she drank a bit of apple juice. 

"Fantastic. Cillian best show you around before you return back to London. There are fantastic little places all over." She said with a warm smile. 

"Do you have any siblings?" Orla, Cillian's younger sister, asked. 

"I do. I've got three older brothers. All married with kids." Gab nodded. 

"Oh, wow. Youngest girl. How old are you?" 

"Twenty-five since yesterday," Gab said softly. 

"Happy Birthday! Must've been a Christmas surprise?" Mary smiled. 

"Kinda. We celebrate my birthday on Christmas as it's easier. I always get a tad more presents." She giggled. 

"How about any partners?" Mary continued with the questions. It made her a little overwhelmed. 

"Ma, that's a bit much." Cillian cut in before Gab could reply. 

"She is an adult woman, she can reply if she wants. Gabrijela?" 

All eyes on her. She blinked, she looked at Cillian then back at Mary. It seemed he hadn't told her details about them. 

"No. No one at all." She shook her head. 

"Really? A girl as beautiful should have men wanting your attention." Mary gasped. "Maybe we should find you a man here." She winked. 

Gab giggled and sipped her apple juice as everyone fell into their own conversations. 

Cillian's knee brushed against hers and she looked up, "You going okay?" He asked. 

"Yeah. Going just well." She nodded. 

The doorbell rang and Mary hurried to go answer it. More voices filled the house as more people came. Cillian's other relatives. 

More introductions, handshakes and kisses. Then everyone gathered in the large living room/sunroom. The Christmas tree was overflowing with presents. 

She sat on the couch, Cillian sitting on the armrest, an arm on the backrest for support. His sisters and his brother handed out the presents to everyone, the kids having an absolute ball with their new toys or outfits. Music filled the air, laughter and joy making it warm as light snow fell outside. 

"First white Christmas." Cillian leaned down. 

"Dream come true." She smiled up at him. 

"This one is for Gabrijela." Mary hobbled over the wrapping and the toys scattered around. 

"Oh no, you shouldn't!" Gabrijela took the large box. She had to send some of her stuff back. No way she could bring this all home in her suitcase. 

"Of course we should! It's a bit of your birthday and a Christmas present." Mary beamed. 

"Oh goodness." Gabrijela laughed before she unwrapped the box. As she popped open the lid she gasped. "Oh!" She pulled out the items. A fantastic scarf, thick and soft and the colour of cream. The next thing inside was a multi-coloured patchwork of a throw. She handed Cillian the box as she pulled it out, it was huge! She could wrap herself up in it. There was a cooking book as well, all about traditional Irish dishes. 

"We wanted to give you something of Ireland for you to take home. The scarf and the throw all made here with care and love." Mary explained. "And Cillian mentioned your love for cooking. So the book is for you to whip up something wonderful for your family at home. You'll find some of the dishes I made today in there." 

Gabrijela beamed and set the items down, "Thank you so much. I will treasure them forever. I've also gotten some things to." She got up, Cillian had already set the things under the tree. 

She handed them out to each sibling and his parents. She bought them their favourite wines or scotch. She remembered Cillian telling her one dinner about it. 

Everyone seemed thrilled and she received plenty of hugs. Even the kids had gotten some toys from her. 

The morning went on, Gabrijela played with the kids. Their parents were surprised as to how well she was with them, messing around and keeping them occupied as the table was cleaned up. 

She would occasionally look up, Cillian had a serious expression as he spoke with his mother and father in the kitchen. Her heart sank, he seemed troubled. He looked over and gave her a small reassuring smile when he noted the look on her face. 

Gabrijela sighed softly. She hoped that there was no trouble with her, she didn't want his family to be distrustful towards her. 

Lunch came and went, and his other relatives began to leave by evening. Gabrijela spent most of her time with the kids, reading them stories or listening to their complaints of their parents or their school. 

The night eased to calm, soft classical music coming from the record. His siblings disappeared upstairs, setting the kids to bed. 

His father had gone early to bed. 

She came to the couch where Cillian sat, a glass in her hand as well as his. 

"Hi," She smiled and sat close, his arm automatically went around her. 

"Hey." He smiled, looking at her. "You look exhausted." 

"I am. Those kids are crazy!" She giggled as she sipped her wine. 

"They are. But really adored you. You have some magic, never seen them so calm." He said, playing with the golden ends of her hair. 

"Practice makes perfect." She laid her head back on his arm. It had been snowing all day, a blanket of white outside. 

"How did you like it today?" He asked, his finger now traced a shape on her nape. 

She shivered, "I loved it. Nervous at first, but... Your family is wonderful Cillian. Makes me miss my own back at home." 

"I could imagine. Make sure to call them later yeah?" He set down his finished glass. 

"I will." She looked into his eyes. He had moved so he was closer to her, kinda almost on top of her. 

"Do I still get to kiss you?" He asked, his other hand taking her jaw gently. 

"If you promise me one thing." She leaned closer, their noses touching. 

"What?" He now cupped her neck. 

"Eat me out every morning like you did this morning." She said and kissed him without hearing his answer. 

Eyes shut, he kissed her deeply and passionately, pulling her close. She gripped his side a little, a soft moan escaping her as she felt his tongue sweep in. Her core warmed at the sensation of his tongue dominating hers. She hadn't kissed him all day, and she poured her heart and soul into it. 

"Maybe we should go to bed too," She whispered against his lips, his hand had slid down to her hip. 

"And do what?" He kissed her jaw, moving to her neck. 

"Everything." She murmured, sighing in delight. 

"It's a full house, Gab. Walls," he kissed her collar bone, "... Are thin." 

"I can be quiet, Cillian. Or you can put a gag in my mouth." She mused when he pulled back. 

"A gag?" His smirk was wicked. 

"Mhm," She ran a finger down his lips. 

"Let's go then." He said and they stood. 

As they came to the stairs Mary was coming down them, "Ah! There you two are. Come on, let me show you your room." She said. 

The pair gave each other a look and followed her. 

"You have the room farthest of them all. Cillian's old room as a boy. But closest to the bathroom. He had a problem when he was much younger." Mary whispered. 

Cillian groaned, "God." 

Gabrijela giggled as they came into the fairly large room. A huge double bed that faced the wall lined french doors that led to a small balcony. There was a guitar in the corner, a table with neatly stacked books and sheets of what looked like music sheets. 

"His room was the biggest as he liked to practice his music and write them to," Mary said. 

"He writes music?" Gabrijela raised a brow. "You didn't tell me that." 

"Yeah, and you left out the part you are in a band." He poked back at her. She rolled her eyes. 

"You're in a band? Interesting. Two music lovers. Could be a perfect couple." Mary let out a soft laugh. 

Gabrijela blushed. 

"Now under this big bed is a spare mattress. I'd pull it out but my back is aching." She said. "All sheets are made. Towels in the wardrobe. But... Make yourself at home." Mary smiled. 

"Much appreciated." She said, taking her hands. "I might take a shower if that's fine. I feel icky." She said. 

"Of course! Don't worry about making to much noise. We all sleep like the dead." She laughed. "Cillian, since you are the eldest, help your poor mama with the dishes." She said and headed out. 

Gabrijela smirked, "I'm going to take a shower. Join me, hm?" She pressed herself against him, kissing his neck. 

"I'll be quick." He groaned softly, his hands cupped her ass and squeezed it. 

They parted. She took a moment to unpack her things. They would be here for more than three days it seemed, into the new year. She unpacked his clothing too, hanging it up with the other items he had left. 

Then she grabbed her pyjamas and towel and went into the bathroom. She was told the attic was converted into a wonderful room for the kids to all sleep in. One of the girls wanted to show her tomorrow. 

Cillian's parents slept downstairs as well as his brother, his sisters upstairs on the other side of the house. 

As she began to undress a knock came at the door, "Who is it?"

"It's me." Cillian's voice. 

She came over and unlocked it, letting him in. "That was quick." She said. 

"Uh, yeah. Only had to put things away." He said, grabbing her by the hips and pulled her flush against his body. 

"Cillian-" She was cut off by the hard kiss. She wasn't naked yet but he helped her undress her bra and panties before he was naked as well. He walked her into the shower. It was big enough for two people. 

As they got wet, he kissed her. He hadn't broken the kiss even as he had walked in with her. She was surprised at the desperation he had for her, how hard he felt against her. 

Tonight was the night, she thought. Despite being in his own family home, he would take her. 

He touched her in the shower, one leg cocked up to his hip as he pushed two fingers into her. Her sweet moan filled his ears, he would ready her. 

"I don't have a condom," He said against her ear, if she was not okay with him going bareback then he would not take her. He would stick to her boundaries. 

"It's fine," She said breathlessly, "I'm on the pill." She held back a cry when his thumb began to do its familiar circle around her clit. 

"Sure?" He kissed her, dragging out her bottom lip. 

"I'm sure Cillian. I want you. Tonight." She bucked her hips. "I have wanted you for a long time." 

"I can say the same." He thrust his fingers fast inside her, kissing her and swallowing up her cries as she came on them. Then they did a speedy clean up, unable to stop kissing each other as they left the bathroom in their towels to their room. 

Gabrijela moved into the middle of the bed, getting under the sheets and he joined her. He rolled on top of her, her arms going around his neck as they locked into another passionate kiss. 

He had music playing, just to be sure to cancel out any noises. He let out a groan as he felt her slender fingers around his cock, "Gab." He murmured. 

"Closer, baby." She whispered. He lowered his hips and let out a soft hiss when he felt her rub the head of his cock along her slit. She moaned softly, teasing herself with him. 

He brought a hand down to grip himself, "Hold on to me, darling." 

She could feel him trembling, his lips wobbled a little. She placed her hands back on his shoulders. 

She held his gaze, his face shadowed but not too much that she could not see. 

"My Cillian," She whispered. 

And then he lowered himself, sliding into her with slow ease of his hips. 

He let out a groan, it had been a long time since he felt the warmth of a woman. He gripped the sheets, his hips now locked with hers. He let out a shaky breath. He watched her face. 

Gabrijela let out soft whimpers of pleasure, his cock spreading her and filling her to the brim. Sex was always amazing, the feeling of a cock in her. But Cillian... He was different. There was meaning to this. All of this. He was not taking her just for the sake of sex. She could see there was more. 

And she felt the same. But she was hesitant about that 'further' bit. But right now, she would not dwell on it. 

"Gabrijela?" His ragged voice brought her back. "Tell me you're okay." 

"I am fine, Cillian. Oh, so, so fine." She pulled him down to kiss him. And that was when he started to move. 

Slow, deep movements, his hips rolled into hers. In and out. Sliding, stretching her. Each dive of his hips sent electricity through her body. 

She arched her back when he did so, his head was tucked into her neck as his arms were around her holding her tight to his body. He still trembled. 

She clung to him, she could feel his sinewy muscles in his shoulders shift and tense as his body worked to pleasure her. 

She then moved her arms to wrap around his waist a little, gripping him there as her legs spread wider for him. 

With the building of the intense pleasure, their bodies became slick with sweat. He was growing more rougher, his grunts a wonderful song to her ears. Curses left both their now swollen lips from how much they kissed and still kissed. But sloppily. 

Her hands roamed over his perfect body, touching him, memorising the stiffness, the angles, the dips and curves. 

Cillian did the same, loving how her body was mesmerising. She was full and curvy, her body arching as he dove deep within her soul. He sat back a little, one hand beside her head. He held her leg up to his hip, the position making him go deeper than ever. 

"Cillian!" She gasped, those pretty pink lips parted from the utter bliss he gave her. He made her feel this. 

She dug her nails into his shoulders, looking down. The sheets had fallen back. His body outlined by the moonlight from outside. She could see how they were connected. How perfect their bodies seemed to fill each curve.

Like a missing puzzle piece. 

Now Cillian was kneeling back, he held her legs wide and hooked over his arms as he held her thighs. She was lifted off the bed a little. 

She let out a loud whine, he was going more deeper than ever. His cock reaching her special spot that his fingers could not. 

She threw back her head, gripping the metal bars of the bedhead as she was thrown upwards from how hard he was fucking her. 

The air was hot, sizzling and electric. Nothing could stop them, nothing could stop him as he ravaged her body with those delicate yet sinful hands. And his cock, which pumped in and out of her. 

Her breasts bounced, the bed shaking a little. 

His moans were growing louder despite him being quite quiet. He was getting close, he could feel it. The need to finish. But he wanted to hold out, he wanted her to finish on him. He wanted her to drag out his climax. 

Gabrijela could not think of anyone but him. But the pleasure he doused her soul, her heart, her everything. She was close, her body was tensing up as she was ready to crash down. 

"Keep going, Cillian. Oh!" She managed to gasp out. She could not form words at all, only moans and unintelligible sounds. Sounds she never knew that could come from her. 

"Aw, fuck!" He cursed, voice cracking a little. He went harder, the sound of skin to skin filled the scorching air between them. 

"Ah... Ah... Ah! Cillian! CILLIAN! OH GOD CILLIAN!" She drawled out his name in a loud, fantastic cry which he dropped her and claimed her lips in a kiss. 

He thrust wildly, his climax ripping through him as he pounded into her and finished inside her. He gripped her undulating body to his, holding his hips to hers as he came and came. 

Their moans mixed within their kiss, as he held her. They did not part from each other. Totally locked in. Body to body. 

He did not want to part from her just yet, neither did she. His head dropped into the curve of her shoulder. 

Their ragged breaths were the only sounds now left with the soft music which had dipped to a soft, gentle melody. As if the sound was easing them from the high they just experience. 

Finally, Cillian rolled off her and laid on his back. They were a mess, a sweaty, flushed mess. 

Gabrijela looked up at the ceiling, her breathing slowly coming back to normal. She could feel his warmth within her, it would leak out soon. She turned her head slowly, only to meed his eyes. 

He reached up and touched her cheek, he looked so hot, his lips parted, cheeks red as sweat beaded on his forehead and his hair sticking to it. 

"Gab..." He said breathlessly. "Gab talk to me." He said when she didn't reply. 

She smiled, "Cilly," She murmured, groaning as she moved to her side and laid half on top of him. She kissed him softly. 

"Tell me how you feel." He tangled his hand in her hair, his other hand on her waist. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He rubbed his nose against hers. 

"No. You didn't." She laid a hand on his chest, playing with his chest hair a little. "You gave me so much pleasure there are no words to describe how I am feeling after it all." 

He laughed softly, "You might feel it in the morning." He nipped her lip. 

"You that confident you fucked me that good, hm?" She nuzzled his nose. 

"Totally." He squeezed her side. 

"I can so agree with that. You did a wonderful job Cillian. I... I enjoyed it. All of it. I'd ride you but I'm so exhausted." She laid down on him. 

"A satisfied woman gives me the greatest pleasure. Especially if it's you." He pulled up the sheets. Now the air had sizzled away, it grew cold. 

"Such a flirt." She hummed. 

"I'm grateful I made you feel good, Gabrijela. That's all I want to do. Make you happy. Feel utter bliss. My greatest goal is to make you feel like a queen." His words were soft, shy. But he was serious about it. 

"You make me feel more than a queen, Cillian. You make me feel lots of things. They haven't invented the fucking words for it." She repeated a line from him. 

He chuckled, "When you plan something well, there's no need to rush." He said it in his Tommy Shelby voice. 

She had shivers, "So I was a plan, hm?" She looked up at him. 

"Not exactly," He kissed her, "In a way. But you were more a... surprise. A real, good surprised that I am thoroughly pleased with." 

She smiled and kissed him back before she laid her head back down and got comfy. 

"As are you, Cillian. A surprised I had not expected." She murmured, eyes shutting as her satisfied body succumbed to exhaustion. 

[sluttyten]

you can be my angel

summary: Jungwoo is a vampire and you’re an unbeliever, but soon you find yourself wrapped up in the world of the supernatural, populated with vampires, werewolves, ghosts and witches (part 1)

words: 26,366

pairings: jungwoo x reader, mentioned johnten and jaeyong, a hint or two of luwoo x reader

or read it here on ao3

Dating a vampire starts to affect your circadian rhythm. You find yourself drowsy in the middle of the day and wide awake all night when you can actually leave the house with Jungwoo. So, some days you’ll wake up after class ends, a kind classmate or an angry professor shaking you awake or calling your name, and you’ll have to apologize and make excuses. Then you’ll text Jungwoo and put the blame on him even if he’d told you to stay home and sleep the night before rather than explore the city with him.

You can’t help but want to be near him all the time, especially after that conversation you had with Ten at that party. You’re all too aware of how little time in the grand span of time you’ll actually have to spend together. So, when you’re not at school and when you’re not working, you’re usually over at the mansion of vampires.

And then there are the nights where you don’t even get off of work until late, your boss keeping you around until she’s finished with everything.

As Christmas nears, and the days grow darker faster, more and more often Jungwoo can pick you up from work, and you treasure those moments. They make you feel normal, like there’s nothing supernatural about your relationship, like he’s not a vampire who can’t step out into sunlight. He’s just your normal boyfriend who stands in the lobby and eavesdrops on conversations while he waits for you.

“Did you know that your boss’s husband has a mistress?” Jungwoo asks you one night when you finally get to leave. “She just took a call from the other woman right after you left the office. It’s probably good that you have the day off tomorrow, I imagine she’ll be a mess.”

You cling to his hand and arm, wishing he was a bit warmer as you step out into the chill of winter which has so suddenly blown into town. Winds whistles and bites as it races along the sidewalk, pushing tiny snowflakes under the streetlights and into your hair and eyelashes.

“You look cold.” Jungwoo says, brushing a few drops of melted snow from your cheek while you walk. Even though you’re all bundled up in a scarf, coat, gloves, and a hat, you’re still really cold, probably due to the fact that you’re clinging to your boyfriend who feels like ice.

“Cold, tired, hungry.” You nod, squeezing closer to him as the wind blows harder. Even if he can’t keep you warm, Jungwoo works as a good shield against the wind. He guides you down the street to the bus stop, but when you pass it by, you ask, “Where are we going?”

Jungwoo takes your hand firmly. “Somewhere special.”

You’re new to this whole world of the supernatural, but even you can recognize when the building you walk into is populated by supernatural types, and not just because you know a large group of them at the back of the pub.

The group of Jungwoo’s friends are all gathered around a massive table. The vampires, werewolves, and witches sit together, being rowdy and eating. Jungwoo leads you through tables that are full of witches (that look like stereotypical witches), very hairy werewolves that have barking laughs and gnaw at the bones left over from their meals, a group of trendy looking vampires women sit at the bar sipping at glasses of blood.

“What is this place?” You ask Jungwoo, looking around in wonder.

“The Leaky Cauldron. Not like the Harry Potter one, though the name is inspired by it.” He laughs. “There’s not an entrance to a secret magical world behind any doors or anything like that, though. Just a gathering place for all of us.”

The guys all cry out in greeting as you and Jungwoo arrive at the table, and Jungwoo pulls up a seat beside Lucas, and he drags you onto his lap. Lucas smiles, all big and friendly, and you reach over to pat his hair.

Jisung sits across from you, entertaining Chenle, Mark, and Doyoung with magic. You watch for a moment, laughing when he transforms his nose into a pig’s snout and starts oinking a rendition of a song you recognize but can’t quite place.

Jungwoo’s lips brush against the back of your neck, his hands fastened around your waist, and you feel your heartbeat pick up just from these little touches. You notice half of the table glancing at you, as if they’ve all just noticed your heightened heartbeat, and you blush wishing they weren’t all so tuned-in.

A robust older woman comes over to the table, depositing a platter and a few drinks at one end of the table. She looks perfectly normal to your eyes, but as she walks away, Jungwoo whispers, “They’re a nymph. They often changes to seduce customers, not like sexually, but to look like what’s most likely to make their customers feel comfortable. What do they look like to you?”

“Like a kindly grandma that might bake me cookies and stuff me full with food.” You reply. “What about you?”

Lucas interjects. “A mix between my dad and my brother, but cooks as great as Kun. You should come over to the den sometime, Y/N, and I’ll make Kun cook you something great. He’s a wonderful den mother.”

Kun, who’s sitting right on Lucas’s other side, suddenly turns and frowns at him. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not your mother!”

This sudden adamant statement draws the attention of the other wolves around the table who all began whining and calling Kun mom and laughing as Kun’s expression grows more and more frustrated.

“You might as well accept it, Kun.” Ten laughs and throws his arm around Kun’s shoulders, but quickly draws it back when Johnny pouts. “You’re their mama.”

Everyone laughs when Kun gives in, dropping his head into his hands in defeat, but you catch a glimpse of the curve of his smile. “I would love to come by some time. Jungwoo, can we go there?” You turn around in his lap, twisting your arms around his neck, and all it takes is a little smile from you and your scary thing-of-nightmare boyfriend melts.

“Of course we can go, Y/N.” His hand slides just a bit under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips cold for a moment against your skin. You shift in his lap, your smile holding its place, and you pray that everyone has turned their ears away again or else they’ll hear your heartbeat going faster again. You know Jungwoo hears it because his smile stretches wide again.

You’re so distracted by Jungwoo that you don’t notice the nymph come back again, depositing more food and drinks on the table. You get lost in his eyes and a light, funny feeling fills your belly.

“What are you doing to me, Jungwoo?” You ask, still smiling, your fingers dancing over the back of his neck, diving up into his hair. “Trying to put me under your vampire spell?”

“Nothing like that. You’re just in love with me.” He leans in and presses his lips to the corner of your mouth. “My powers of persuasion don’t work on you, and even if they did I would never use them. I barely use them anyway. Only when the situation calls for it.”

He reaches around you to grab a glass, and you wrinkle your nose as he lifts it to his lips. It looks like a pint, smells like it too, but you know there’s more to it than the appearance would suggest. Jungwoo’s eyes flicker red as he takes a drink, so you can only assume that the beer is spiked with blood.

All around the table, the supernatural creatures that you call friends dig into meals and drinks they would never be served in a regular restaurant. The wolves are digging into plates of what almost looks like raw meat, their plates are pools of blood and chunks of meat. At least the witches eat normal meals: Jisung picks at a plate of fruit and vegetables, while Ten inhales a breadbasket. Both of them stick to a vegetarian diet, you’ve noticed, and you’re not sure if that’s just a choice or if it comes with being a witch. The vampires either sip at glasses you’re sure have at least a bit of blood in them, or they nibble at bloody pieces of meat.

Lucas, beside you and Jungwoo, tears at a huge raw steak.

The full moon is nearing, and he looks like he’d prefer to just tear at it with his teeth, but he uses a knife and fork to stay somewhat civilized. When Jungwoo reaches in front of Lucas’s plate to grab a strawberry for you from Jisung’s plate, Lucas bares his teeth a little and covers his plate protectively, like a dog guarding his bowl.

Jungwoo presses the strawberry between your lips, and you bite down then lick at his fingers, cleaning the juice off. Lucas makes a noise, and you glance over to see him frowning at the pair of you, Jungwoo’s fingertips still inside your lips.

“Gross. You’re just as bad as Johnny and Ten.” He says, casting a look over at the pair down the table. Ten’s most of the way into Johnny’s lap, laughing at something Taeyong said, and Johnny’s just watching him with a distracted smile on his lips. “All these couples around me. I think I’ll be sick from all the sweetness. Get a room.”

Jungwoo laughs and drops his hand back to your lap, and rests his chin on your shoulder. He waits a few moment until Lucas gets up to go mess around with Mark and WinWin, then Jungwoo turns his head to the side and brushes his lips against your throat.

“Are you spending the night?” His voice is low, but you know that half the table has probably just heard. Jungwoo’s fingers brush under your shirt, over your belly, dipping just under the waistband of your pants.

“I don’t see why not. Winter break started so there aren’t any classes for you to distract me from, and I don’t work tomorrow.” Your hand falls to his as more of his fingertips disappear under your waistband, pushing lower. “Plenty of time for you to do whatever you’d like.”

Jungwoo nips at your throat lightly. “Perfect. Let’s get out of here.”

He pulls his hand away suddenly and nudges you off his lap so he can stand. Doyoung’s eyes are suddenly on the pair of you, very judgmental, but Jungwoo just waves goodbye, announces you’re leaving now, claps Lucas on the shoulder, and then ushers you out the door.

It’s still freezing outside, snowing heavier than before, beginning to really pile up on the sidewalk. You cling to Jungwoo’s hand as you walk away, and for a moment the pair of you is silent and you think about what just happened.

“Can we really visit the werewolves sometime?” You ask, leaning heavily against Jungwoo, using him to block the cold wind.

Jungwoo turns, takes your face in both of his hands, and says, “After the full moon, we’ll go.” You look up into his face, not minding the biting cold of the wind hitting your cheeks, not caring at all about the chill or the damp feel of snow melting through your shoes because Jungwoo has snowflakes perfectly preserved in his hair and his eyelashes, unmelting since he gives off no heat.

You press up on your toes and Jungwoo welcomes your kiss. Your mouth is warm against his, and his arms slide bracingly around your waist, holding you there with your chest pressing into his.

You kiss for a while before the cold really grows to be too much. Jungwoo drops another kiss to your forehead, then lets you fall back flat onto your feet.

“Let’s get a cab home. You’re freezing. I’m not making you walk all that way.”

He flags down a passing cab, holds the door open for you, and then slides in after, muttering the address to the driver. You lean against him, suddenly feeling tired and warm now that you’re out of the cold again. A faint headache throbs in the back of your head, but you lay your head on Jungwoo’s shoulder and close your eyes, thinking you’ll just take a short nap on the ride home, and wake up to have fun with Jungwoo in the empty house.

Just a short nap, you tell yourself.

You wake up warm and cozy, wrapped in safe arms and a heavy duvet. You don’t remember how you got there at first, but after a hazy moment as you blink away sleep, the cab ride comes back to you. Flashes of images follow: Jungwoo carrying you, Jungwoo helping you out of your clothes, Jungwoo tucking you into bed with a kiss to your forehead and a quiet “Sleep, sunshine.”

Even as you pull yourself out of the peaceful sleep, you can feel a dull ache low in your belly, familiar and horrible.

You slide your hand down between your legs, just for a second, and when you pull your hand away you see red. Your damn period.

You start to get up, trying to move Jungwoo’s arm from around you, but then his grip tightens, pressing you back into the bed. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, their black shade a bit lighter than normal, closer to brown than black. He takes your breath away.

“Good morning, it’s still early.” Jungwoo kisses your shoulder, and his hand slides to your chest, his cool palm held against your beating heart. “Don’t get up yet. Most of the guys are still out. The others are sleeping.”

He shifts without letting you up at all. Slipping down the bed, between your legs, and looking up at you.

“We can’t, Jungwoo.” You press your hand to his forehead and push lightly. Jungwoo just retaliates by leaning back and nipping at your fingertips. When he still doesn’t move from that position, you shake your head. “We shouldn’t do anything. I started my period.”

“I know that. I could smell it as soon as I woke up.” Jungwoo tells you, and he presses a kiss against your hips, his fingers touching your waistband. “Please, my sweet sunshine, can I please eat you out?”

You can hear the hunger in his voice, can feel it as his fangs drag lightly over your skin. When he looks up at you, you can see that his eyes are turning more red than black. Jungwoo wants you, and although all your life you’ve been taught that menstruation is gross and dirty, there’s something undeniably hot about the thought of Jungwoo performing oral and having your period blood on his lips and chin.

It’s really not that difficult to give in to his request.

“Yeah, okay.” You guide your fingers into his hair and Jungwoo makes a sound that honestly resembles a purr as he tugs your panties down and flings them across the room so he can get between your legs.

You’ve seen your blood on Jungwoo’s lips before those few occasions where he actually consents to drinking from you. But it’s different to have it be the blood between your thighs. This pleasure is different than the pleasure of his venom flooding through your veins as he drinks.

Jungwoo’s thumbs massage circles into your thighs and he licks tentatively at first against you.

“So good.” He moans, pulling you closer to his mouth. “Better than drinking you. Eating you alive.”

His eyes glint red, hungry, the monster shining through, but he’s a monster that you love.

“Jungwoo, shit.” You drape your arm over your eyes.

He chuckles, and sits up a bit, flops over onto his back, and pats his chest. “Come sit, sweet sunshine.”

You get up and sit over his chest and let Jungwoo’s hands guide you to hover over his face. It’s almost gross to see red dripping from you onto your boyfriend’s face, but Jungwoo opens his mouth and smiles, licks at the blood, then pulls you to sit fully down on his face.

Jungwoo’s fingers dig into your thighs, and his tongue strokes over your pussy. You can hear him moaning and feel it against you as he dips his tongue inside you.

It should be weird, but it’s not. It’s just like any other time Jungwoo’s eaten you out, only he’s a bit hungrier about it, and you’re sitting on his face, grinding yourself against his lips and chin.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, and hold onto it tightly as you feel yourself getting closer.

“Jungwoo, fuck, you feel so good. I’m so close.” You moan, chasing the feeling, trying to reach orgasm, and it really helps when he slides his fingers right inside you and just starts fucking you on his fingers while his tongue laps against your clit. And you cum, loudly moaning for him and clutching at his hair, humping his face.

And he keeps licking you out and fingering you, trying to drink more of you down.

Finally you push at his head and pull away, falling back onto your hands, and that’s when you look down at his face.

Jungwoo looks like a fucking mess. The entire lower half of his face is bloody. It drips down his chin and his cheeks, staining the sheets under his head, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“You’re delicious.” He sits up, holding you down into his lap with his fingers tight on your hips again, and he’s so close you think he might kiss you. But he doesn’t he stops just short with his mouth open enough you can see his fangs, and his eyes burn a bright aroused shade of red. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He suddenly leans back and let’s go.

“Like what?” You push out of his lap and stand up, bending over to dig a pad or tampon or anything out of your bag.

Jungwoo follows you as you traipse over to the bathroom. He leans in the doorway as you start up the shower and then sit down on the toilet to pee and clean yourself up just a bit down there.

He doesn’t say anything for several long moments, not until you’re both standing in the shower together and he’s trailing his fingers along your jugular vein.

“You we’re looking at me like you were afraid. Like you thought I might eat you, or not be able to actually stop myself.” Jungwoo tells you quietly, carefully keeping his lips over his fangs and his eyes lowered so you can just barely make out the bloody red of his irises. “If you think I’m a monster, then you don’t have to stay with me. I’ll understand. Others have found me too terrifying and disgusting to want me.”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. You just reach for him, fingers sliding over his hips as you step closer and lay your head on his chest.

Once upon a time, this boy you love had a beating heart, had flushed cheeks, and loved people that were not you.

You hold each other under the warm spray of the shower until it begins to run cold, then you hurry and finish washing. When you step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself and hurry to step into your panties and start using your feminine product, Jungwoo walks over to the covered mirror that you noticed on your first visit.

His whole body is still tense and it hurts you that your light fun of waking up has turned into this dark mood.

“Jungwoo,” You walk over to him, and press your bare chest to his back, arms going around his waist. “You’re not a monster. You’re different, sure, but that doesn’t make you a monster. You may not have a beating heart, you may have to drink blood to survive, but you’re still human with a conscience and morals and the ability to love.”

Jungwoo shrugs as if to dislodge you, but you keep your hold around him, hands pressed to his stomach, and you drop a kiss to his back and leave your lips there for a moment.

“I am.” His voice is quiet but full of emotion. “All you have to do is look at me, and you can see I’m the stuff of nightmares. Just look.”

Suddenly Jungwoo reaches for the sheet covering the mirror in front of you, and he pulls.

The sheet falls to the floor, exposing the cracked and broken mirror. And you see only you standing there, your arms around nothing, but now that you stand with Jungwoo in front of you, you can tell that the fist-shaped epicenter of the shattered mirror is exactly where Jungwoo’s face would be if he were visible.

His shoulders are still hunched, and it pains you to have him like this.

“Jungwoo, my foolish boyfriend. Look at me.” You loose your arms from his waist, and move around to face him, lifting yourself up onto the counter top, sitting between Jungwoo and the mirror. You put your hands on his cheeks and pull his face down so your foreheads touch, and you feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin and he lets out a sigh.

You per his hair, and say, “I don’t know how long you’ve been like this, how you were turned, or how many people you’ve been with before me. I don’t know what they’ve said to you to make you believe that you are some monster of nightmares and legends, but —“ Jungwoo starts to straighten up, but you weave your fingers into his hair and tug lightly. “Listen to me — the first time I saw you, I thought you were just dressed up as one of the most innocent types of vampires: the Twilight vampires. You aren’t terrifying, I can confirm that. You’re cute. You’re so cute, Jungwoo, that I have never felt threatened by you.”

“But—“

You shake your head. “But nothing. Back there in bed, I just thought you were going to kiss me with my blood on your lips, and it kind of grossed me out. I wasn’t scared of you, Jungwoo.”

Weakly, Jungwoo’s head falls to your shoulder and he sighs, presses his mouth to your skin, the edges of his fangs just barely pressed against you. You keep stroking his hair, holding him against you, all six foot something of damp vampire boyfriend.

It’s late in the afternoon when you and Jungwoo actually leave his bedroom. The golden autumn light of the afternoon has already faded into the cool, steel blue of twilight, but Jungwoo still makes you sit on the counter in the kitchen while he makes breakfast for you. Waffles and eggs and nicely chopped fruits.

He’s in the process of making bacon when the others start filing slowly into the room. First it’s Chenle, sniffing the air and slipping into a seat at the breakfast nook.

“That smells delicious.” He sighs. “I miss being able to really eat food.”

The next few — Yuta, Taeyong, Taeil — all commiserate with him, and you begin to feel bad for eating all of this in front of them. You feel bad that Jungwoo’s cooking this for you when he can’t even eat it, and that he’s keeping their fridge and cabinets stocked with food for you.

When Doyoung comes into the kitchen just as Jungwoo is plating your food, and you wince when you get a look at his face. Jungwoo swears.

“What the hell happened to your face?” Jungwoo asks, dropping the plate in your lap and immediately going to Doyoung. You move the plate to the side, more interested in this than eating.

A massive bruise blooms across his face, taking over his left eye and most of his cheek. His lip is busted and when he lifts his hands to push Jungwoo away, you see that his hands are bruised too and dark scratches disappear up his arms.

“Stop it.” Doyoung pushes him away.

Jungwoo retreats to stand between your legs, leaning back against you while still staring at the older vampire. His fingers absentmindedly trace over your skin, while you wait for Doyoung to explain why he looks like he’s been pummeled.

“You should’ve seen him when we got home this morning.” Taeyong says. “You look better, Doyoung. How are you feeling now?”

Doyoung shrugs then winces and grabs his side.

Jeno comes into the room, takes one look at Doyoung and walks immediately to the fridge, pulls out a bottle of blood and pops it in the microwave to heat it for him then passes it off to Doyoung before anyone says anything else.

Jungwoo’s fingers keep moving anxiously over your skin until you drop your hand over his to stop him. With your other hand you start picking at your plate of food because you actually are quite hungry in addition to being concerned about the state Doyoung is in.

When he’s downed about half the glass of blood, Doyoung sits down at the table. Already he looks a bit better. His split lip has healed and the bruise is faded a bit.

“Who the fuck beat you up so badly you’ve taken this long to heal?” Jungwoo asks, looking around the room at the others, searching for answers from anyone who will give them.

“It’s lucky the two of you left when you did, really.” Doyoung says. “You were gone probably fifteen minutes before a new pack of werewolves rolled into the place. Kun and the others cleared out right away, but it wasn’t long before the new pack started to make trouble. Harassing the fairies in the corner, trying pick a fight with that poor Minotaur. You know I hate that kind of stuff. I tried to put a stop to it.”

Jungwoo frowns and you circle your arms around his shoulders, holding him against you.

“He went to talk to their alpha; and before we knew it Doyoung was on the floor, half the pack getting ready to attack.” Taeil tells you and Jungwoo. “He held his own pretty good, but there were too many of them, and even when Johnny went to go help, they were overwhelmed pretty quickly.” He shakes his head.

“Where is Johnny?” You ask. “And Renjun?”

“They both got in the fight before the rest of us.” Yuta cracks his knuckles. “Renjun’s been aching to get in a fight. He’s rather new, so he’s still got all that new blood energy, and it’s not enough for him to fight with us or even with our pups. Johnny took almost as bad a beating as Doyoung, but they broke his leg. He’s up in his room with Nurse Ten helping him heal.”

Chenle laughs. “Renjun’s fine now. Just pouting.”

You don’t hear anything, but all of the guys in the room suddenly look up at the ceiling. A few of them laugh and shake their heads, and you can only assume that Renjun heard Chenle’s comment and had a response.

“So how did you get them to clear out?” Jungwoo asks.

“I stood back up again once, bit their alpha and told them to fuck off. This is our part of the city.” He smiles, but there’s something off about it. “They probably won’t be back again. Their alpha looked furious some of his pack pulled him back looking scared, and all of them ran off with their tails between their legs.”

The room laughs, everyone sinking into a relaxed mood of chatting, drinking, and you finish your plate of food with Jungwoo leaning back against your chest.

On one of those rare sunny winter days, just a hair before Christmas, you wanted to get in some shopping while the weather was nice if not just a bit chilly. Your roommates are busy working, so you text Ten to come hang out with you while you shop.

You hadn’t seen him since that night at The Leaky Cauldron, not had you seen Johnny, but Jungwoo reassured you that Johnny, Doyoung, and Renjun’s pride were all back to normal.

Ten comes by your apartment to pick you up and then you head across town to the best area for shopping.

“You’re right to choose me to come shopping with you.” Ten says as you head into the first shop. “I can charm stuff to fit properly, so everything will always be your size. And if you’d be into shoplifting I can always bewitch anyone who’s looking our way, and I wouldn’t even tell Jungwoo if you don’t want me to.” He winks at you.

“No thanks on the shoplifting, but the size charming would be nice.”

And it truly is useful to have a witch as a shopping companion. Ten conjures up mirrors when there are none, magically tailors the clothes so they fit you right, and he just makes you laugh while also entertaining you with stories about Johnny and the rest of the coven.

It’s nice to have someone to talk with about everything, all the weird magical, mystical stuff you stepped into that night when you met Jungwoo. Ten provides you insight on the vampires and the werewolves and even on himself and Jisung as the only two witches.

“Our powers awake when we’re seven or fourteen. Some late-bloomers don’t see their powers until twenty-one.” Ten tells you as you browse through a store. “I think the wolves have their first change when puberty sets in. Jaehyun once told me that his voice started changing, and he had a really nasty sex dream, woke up three days later, naked in the woods, covered in mud and bits of loose fur. The most I had to deal with was accidentally setting stuff on fire when I got angry until I learned to control it.”

“And what about the vampires? Do you know all of their stories?” You ask, trying to play it off like you’re not specifically asking about Jungwoo’s story.

Ten glances sharply at you. “Doyoung’s the oldest. I think he’s been around since, like, the European Renaissance, but I don’t have an exact date, he always gets a bit mum on the subject when it comes up. Taeil is technically older than Doyoung, but he slept for about two hundred years after being a vampire for about thirty. Doyoung turned Taeyong, Jungwoo, and Jeno. Taeil turned Yuta and Johnny. Jeno turned Renjun in a haze of bloodlust right after being turned. John turned Chenle around that same time because the kid was dying in a hospital and John was a nurse there. That’s how I met him too. Spell gone wrong led to physical complications, and he was the sexy nurse I got to wake up to.”

You hold on to just that snippet he’d jammed into the middle of all that information. “Doyoung is the one that turned Jungwoo?”

Ten nods slowly and then keeps his mouth firmly shut.

“Oh, come on, Ten.” You reach for his arm, tugging lightly, trying to drag the answers out of him. “Tell me just a little bit more about what you know.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you anything else about him. I don’t know much, and if Jungwoo hasn’t told you anything, then I shouldn’t either. But I can tell you anything you want to know about the other guys.”

You fold your arms over your chest and start walking away, not having found anything of interest in this store. “That’s no damn good, Ten.”

“Sorry.” He catches up to you. “But maybe Jungwoo has his reasons for not telling you about his past. It took me a while to get John to open up about who he was before he was turned, how long he’s been like this, if he’s ever killed anyone, all those interesting things about his past. But I didn’t wheedle, and one day he just opened up and told me. You have to be patient.” Ten stops outside a shop that from the outside just looks like a sex shop, but you try not to look too closely.

“I’m not going in there.” You stand with your back to the shop. You’re sure there are things in there that you could find interesting, that could give you ideas on stuff to do with Jungwoo, but you don’t want Ten (and probably, by extension, the other guys) to know about it. You stay planted firmly even as Ten takes a step closer to the door.

“I’ll be right back, then we’ll grab some coffee, okay?” Ten points at the door and then across the street to where the cafe stands. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in with me?”

“Positive.”

You hear his footsteps, the faint chime of a bell as he opens the door, and then you’re alone. Other holiday shoppers move along the sunny sidewalk, chattering, toting bags of gifts. You clutch a single purchase to your chest and watch all the people passing by. And then you see him.

Across the street, a man leans against the wall of the building directly across from you, mirroring your posture almost exactly. Standing tall, broad-shouldered with a wild mane of black hair, you could possibly have ignored him except that his wolfishly golden eyes are stuck on you, and his lips curve into a predatory smirk.

It sends a chill down your spine, raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

You’re about to turn and duck into the store where Ten is still shopping, but a crowd of people surrounds you, squeezing past you with all of their bags and coats and scarves, blocking your view and keeping you unable to move just then.

Once the crowd clears away you look back across the street and find that stretch of wall is bare.

You have about five seconds to sigh in relief before a shadow steps into your line of sight, a hot hand crushes your arm, and you’re abruptly jerked down a side alley. Your shopping bag falls from your hands right before you’re whipped around the corner and pushed up against the wall.

The man stands in front of you, his teeth bared, his eyes seeming to glow. His hand presses against your throat, just shy of too much pressure, and he leans in to sniff your hair.

“Blood whore.” He growls, the sound rumbling from low in his chest. “I could smell it on you from down the block. You smell like those vampires from the pub.”

You squirm, try to shove him away, but it’s useless. “Let me go!”

“I should crush you, whore.” The wolf leans back. “Show them that they can’t treat us like that and get away with it. That coven’s sire thinks that he can try to fuck over my alpha like that and we’ll not try and fuck over one of his? I know they aren’t wandering out of their little blood den, but they should keep a better handle on their blood whores. Can’t let them go wandering the streets unprotected.”

“She’s not unprotected.” A voice says.

You don’t even have time to look around, but you feel the werewolf stepping back his hand going a bit slack around your throat, and then he growls again.

“Back off.” Ten’s suddenly there, ducking under the wolf’s arm to squeeze between the two of you. His fingers crackle with green lightning, and he holds them just a few centimeters from the wolf’s skin. “One touch and you’re dead, pal. I’m packing 10,000 volts. You’d be dead before you knew it.”

The werewolf bares his yellow teeth, and you see them dripping with venom, his eyes gleaming a wolffish amber. A low growl starts to work its way up his throat.

Ten, although standing about a foot shorter than this burly wolf, stands his ground.

“I can smell it on you too, devil slut.” He makes a show of smelling the air around Ten. “The scent of that coven and that traitorous pack. Soulless creatures you and those vampires.”

Suddenly Ten’s other hand shoots up, flying at the werewolf’s face. He presses a single finger right between the man’s eyebrows.

The wolf falls back with a yelp, hands flying to his face as he scurries backwards. When his hands drop so he has room to glare at the both of you, you can see a bright red welt between his eyes.

“How many times have we got to tell you to leave us alone?” Ten asks, raising his hand that still glows zips and snaps with the green lightning.

You grab Ten’s arm and tug him toward the mouth of the alley. “Let’s go. Come on.” And you whisper, “Stop antagonizing him.”

But he doesn’t stop. Not yet.

He has to say one last thing before you go. “If I see you bothering any of us again I won’t hesitate, bitch.”

The werewolf’s mouth snaps shut and he lowers his gaze, chastised.

“Let’s go. We’ll finish your shopping, then head to the house.” Ten tells you, and then he whispers something under his breath. At your curious look he explains, “A spell to keep him from following us. I don’t look forward to actually having to electrocute a man to death. I just want a coffee and some pastries and my boyfriend.”

He glares up at the sun as if it is the one to blame for all of your troubles today. And maybe it is. If it had been an overcast day, perhaps you could have brought your boyfriend and Ten’s along, but the sun left them locked inside.

Jungwoo is livid once Ten hurries you inside the house, chanting another spell over the door and breaking the skin of his thumb to trace symbols around the doorframe.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” Jungwoo asks, appearing suddenly in the entryway, reaching for you immediately as if to check for injuries, but as soon as he touches you his brows furrow together. “Why do you smell like a filthy dog?”

“We were shopping and a werewolf from that pack found her.” Ten says, smearing his thumb in one last symbol over the doorway. “I think I scared him off by threatening to make him into a nicely cooked steak, but I’ve taken some other precautions to keep him and the rest of his pack off our trail.”

Jungwoo swears and moves over to the window so quickly that he blurs. He pushes aside the curtain, hisses as the last rays of sunlight push inside and scorch against his skin.

“I’m going out there to kill whoever touched you.” Jungwoo says, coming immediately back to your side, his hands sliding around you securely. His voice echoes with rage. “As soon as the sun is down. This is ridiculous. I’ve tried saving you in the past from humans. Creeps that stalk women through the night, I find them and convince them to stop their horrible ways. But werewolves. Fuck.”

“Hey, stop.” You press your hands to his chest, the cold of his skin burning against your palms. “You’re not killing anyone, Jungwoo. Cool down.”

Jungwoo doesn’t often get angry. You’ve never seen him quite like this. His hands shake with barely contained anger, and if he were alive his cheeks would be flushed red with anger.

“I wish I could rip the sun out of the sky,” Jungwoo lowers his forehead to yours, his hands come up to press your cheeks between his palms. “If I could just tear it away so I never had to be apart from you on a sunny day, I would gladly do that. If we could be normal and spend a day in the sun, where I wouldn’t have to worry about you getting into trouble where I can’t help you, that’s all I want.”

You press your hands over his, feeling them warming against your skin. “I want that too.”

Jungwoo lets out a faint breath and closes his eyes, slowly calming until you can no longer feel his hands shaking even slightly.

“That was cheesy and disgusting.” A voice says from the stairs.

You glance over and find Jeno, Renjun, and Chenle all hanging around the stairs. Chenle’s literally hanging from the banister. Jeno’s got his arms folded across his chest, watching you and Jungwoo embracing each other.

“Don’t you have chores to do before Doyoung wakes up?” Jungwoo asks, standing up tall, his hands falling away for just a moment before he clasps your hand.

The three young ones vanish in a hurry, and then you turn your attention back to Ten who’s still standing beside the front door, his face screwed up in concentration. When he notices you looking at him, though, he clears his face and moves around the pair of you, making for the stairs and probably his boyfriend’s room.

After a moment when the house has fallen silent once again, Jungwoo leads you into the library in the back corner of the house. You find Yuta sitting there, sitting so still he looks like a statue, but slowly you see him turn a page in the book in his lap. He ignores the pair of you, and Jungwoo ignores him, guiding you over to a comfy chair in the corner near the warm radiator.

Jungwoo grabs a book off a nearby shelf, sits down in the chair, pulls you down to sit on his lap, and then throws a blanket over the pair of you. You rest your head on his shoulder.

“Are you going to read to me?” You ask, settling in under the warmth of the blanket, against the solidness of your boyfriend. “What’s the book about?”

Jungwoo’s arm slides around you and he flips the book open. “Just close your eyes and listen. Don’t doze off.”

You do as he says: shut your eyes, stay quiet, listen intently to not fall asleep.

“It was the summer of 1743. Balmy, by all reports, and particularly overcast on the day our story begins. Angry gray clouds rolled through the sky, casting a small village in shadow, drowning the crops, turning the roads into mud. And it was on this day that a young woman gave birth to her second child, her son. As the storm threatened to blow apart her family’s humble home, she brought her son into the world and held him to her heart, and she dreamt.

“She dreamt of a rope, a long rope stretching forever out of sight over mountains and through forests, over oceans and into the stars. She dreamt of a house standing, strong and steady through a great storm, through a changing world. She dreamt of blood and fire and ice, terrible things, but also great. And when she woke, she saw her son in her arms and knew the world would be open to him, but not without a price.”

You split your eyes open for just a moment, long enough to look down at the book Jungwoo holds, long enough to tell that the story he’s telling you isn’t the one imprinted in those pages. It’s his story.

“The boy grew up under his mother’s careful supervision. She tried to direct him down paths that would keep him on the right path, that would make him into that steady home rather than the unending rope and the devastation she’d seen in her dream.” Jungwoo pauses for a moment. “But she never could have stopped fate, and that’s what her son told her after it happened, after he went down the path that would lead him far away from her, to a place where they could never meet again.”

You slide your hand over Jungwoo’s, lacing your fingers together and squeezing.

“I was twenty years old.” He tells you, his voice dropping quieter, more intimate. “I was in love with a girl from my village, and we were going to marry but I wanted us to have a good life for a good family, so I left the village and went to the city to get a good job in the port, and when I’d earned enough I would return home, marry her, and we’d begin a new life in the city.

“But things didn’t work out. Many people came through the port: sailors, soldiers, criminals, and many that even I didn’t know of at the time. Dark things that I only believed to be stories.

“I met Doyoung a month or two into my work. He seemed like a perfectly normal human. He stepped off a ship looking like a scholar, and he was friendly, making conversation with me. I saw him around for several days while a heavy storm seemed to hang over the city, attempting to drown everyone. At first, I thought he was studying us because he seemed to ask lots of questions and watched us carefully and took notes in this book he carried around. Then one night I was heading back to the small shack that I called home. I remember it had a leaky roof and a dirt floor, was about as big as my current bathroom, and I shared it with three other dockworkers.

“The night was dark and damp, chilly. I remember thinking how I was hungry, and couldn’t wait to get back home, to the village, to have some of my mother’s cooking and the stable home around me and my sweetheart in my arms.”

At that, you shift in his lap, and Jungwoo squeezes your hand and knocks a kiss against your cheek.

“I was almost back to the shack when suddenly a figure stood in front of me. I barely had the time to see his face before he had leapt upon me, dragging me down into the mud as he bit me. It fucking hurt so much that I lost consciousness. When I awoke the next morning, the storm had cleared and the sun shone down blindingly, and I felt horrible so I blew off work and decided I’d had enough. I packed up my few possessions and immediately headed home to my village.

“If I’d know that was my last day to feel the sunlight on my skin, I would have savored it more, but I rushed home, focused on the village and nothing else. I didn’t even notice that I was being followed by a heavily cloaked figure.”

Your head rolls on his shoulder as you let the sound of his voice, the even cadence of his story-telling lull you into a relaxed state. The heat of the nearby radiator and the comforting smell of the library and Jungwoo help that along, as well.

“Hey. Are you sleeping?” Jungwoo whispers, lifting his shoulder just enough that it would have jolted you awake if you were sleeping.

You shake your head. “No, but I’m starting to feel sleepy.” You tilt your head just a bit, and your lips brush his skin, soft and warm now. “Keep talking, I like hearing your story.”

His fingers touch your cheek, lightly pushing a bit of your hair off your face, and then he continues right where he left off.  “I got home to my village and the first thing I did was visit my mother. She was happy to see me, but she told me that there was something different about me. At that point, I’d just assumed that it was her not having seen me for several months, the tan shade of my skin and the manual labor turning me into a man slightly different than the boy she’d sent off not so long ago.

“Nothing seemed different to me. Not yet. Except that I was hungry and thirsty, and although my mother fed me well right away, the feeling didn’t fade. I set out into the village to look for the girl I had hoped to marry.” At this, Jungwoo’s voice sinks even lower, and his fingers begin to play with yours distractedly, as if he’s avoiding the next bit.

You open your eyes and look up at his face. “Jungwoo?”

He sighs sadly. “I found her as night fell. She sat out behind her family’s home, cleaning the pot from their supper, and when she saw me she dropped it on the ground and it shattered. A shard of it sliced her finger, and in that moment I forgot everything else.

“Of all the things I’ve forgotten over the years, all the memories that have vanished or gone hazy, this one still sits crystal clear in my mind. I attacked her so quickly, she didn’t even have time to scream. The hunger inside me took over and I held her against the wall and drank every ounce of blood from her veins before I realized what I’d done. I remember the glint of firelight reflecting in her eyes. I remember the coldness of her fingers falling from my wrist. I remember the sound and weight of her body hitting the ground.

“And then the pain began.” Jungwoo closes his eyes, a pained expression coming across his face. “It burned through me, hot and stabbing, like the feeling of tingly needles when your foot falls asleep or something like that. But it was all over my body, and I know that I must have screamed, I must have cried, and not only from the physical pain that overwhelmed me entirely, but also the pain of realizing what I’d just done. I wanted to go to her, to hold her and cry over her, but I couldn’t have moved if I’d tried.

“Then Doyoung appeared, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me away into the darkness of the village. That night he sat with me in the forest while the transformation took over my body. He hid us away in an abandoned house when the day came, and when night fell again I was aware enough that he finally explained everything to me. That I was a vampire. That if I could have resisted feeding for just three days, then I would have been fine. That he was sorry that he’d done this to me.

“I hoped that maybe my girl would have the same fate as me. That she would have risen that day I spent transforming, that she would be wandering the village and if she resisted feeding she could go on as normal. But Doyoung told me that I’d drained her, and those that are drained entirely have no hope of rising again. That’s why I’m always careful when I drink now. If I take too much it could kill. If I just drink a bit, that person will be fine so long as they don’t feed. And if that person’s a werewolf, they go on unaffected by my venom.”

You sit up straight then and look him in the eyes. “Are you telling me that all these times I’ve let you bite me, I could’ve easily become a vampire if someone around me got so much as a papercut?”

Jungwoo slowly nods. “But I’ve made sure not to let that happen. Haven’t you noticed I don’t usually let you out of my sight for about three days after I’ve bitten you. I’m keeping an eye on you. I don’t want to inflict this on you. I would stop you the moment you moved to bite someone.”

You frown and fold your arms over your chest. “Seems risky to me. Ten told me that Jeno accidentally turned Renjun. Who was supposed to be watching him?”

“Hey!”

Jeno suddenly appears stepping out from the shadow of one of the bookshelves. Renjun and Chenle appear behind him, and as you look around, you realize that several of the other vampires are hidden in the shadows around the room, all of them eavesdropping on Jungwoo’s story. You wonder how many of them have actually heard it.

“Ten! Stop spreading gossip about us!” Jeno cries out. Renjun laughs and throws his arm over the other boy’s shoulders. “It’s true, but still.”

Jungwoo shyly tucks his face into your shoulder. “I didn’t realize you were all listening.”

“We wanted to hear too.” Yuta’s still sitting rigidly across the room in the spot he’d been when you both came in. He sits his book down. “Keep talking. Jungwoo rarely talks about his past. If we weren’t there for it, we’re unlikely to know. So talk, Jungwoo.”

Pulling his face out of your shoulder, Jungwoo begins again. “That night, after he finished explaining everything to me, Doyoung let me return to my parents’ home one last time. To say goodbye. My mother took one look at me, and I think she knew right then. She saw I’d grown paler, my eyes were reddish, and I think she saw in my eyes all those things she’d seen in her dream the night I was born. She saw chaos and fire and bloodshed, an endless rope stretching into infinity. She wept.

“I left after telling her and my father and my sister that I loved them, but I had to leave. That I likely wasn’t ever coming back, and I know that scared my father and sister, but my mother must have had some idea of what had happened to me, and I think she was more relieved than anything else to get this monster away from her family. But she let me hug her and tell her I loved her, and then I left with Doyoung.

“We traveled for a while, sailing around the world for what seemed such a brief time, but decades passed in the blink of an eye. And then we found ourselves near home again, and I had control over myself and our family was bigger. Taeil was awake by this point, Taeyong was fitting in, Yuta had just been turned. Doyoung had better things to focus on than me wandering off to run through the countryside and find my old village. I didn’t expect it to be the same, but I didn’t expect it to be much different either. I think I almost believed I’d find my parents and sister sitting at our home, looking exactly as they had when we left. But our home was empty, the garden my mother had tended was overgrown. Two headstones in the village cemetery bore my parents’ names and an old man I passed had answers for my sister’s whereabouts.

“Two villages away, she was grown old, all wrinkly with a husband who knew nothing of her little brother. She had children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Seventy years had passed in that blink of an eye that I’d been traveling with Doyoung and Taeil. But she recognized me the moment I came up to her. I think she thought at first that she’d died, that I was just greeting her into the afterlife, but it took her a few hours to realize I was there, still young even though I should have been wrinkled and old like her. We had a good day, catching up, talking about her family and her life, and me telling her about the places I’d been, the people I’d met.

“Two months later, she passed in her sleep. I’ve loosely kept track of her descendants over the years. My living relatives that know of that family legend that their great-great-great-and more greats grandmother’s brother was a vampire. Many don’t believe it, I know, but some of them do. Some of them know me exactly as such, but it’s rare that I actually see any of them. We usually travel often, and my relatives then can’t find me then, but I know where they are. I still have them even in a small degree when I can’t handle all of these fools.”

The vampires that have gathered to hear Jungwoo’s story all begin grumbling at that, but he offers up a placating smile.

“So your sister’s descendants and this coven,” You ask, drawing Jungwoo’s attention back to you. “Are these the only relationships you’ve had over the centuries?”

He shakes his head. “We’ve traveled the world. I’ve met a lot of interesting people. We all have. But you don’t want to hear about them.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the vampires fading away, leaving the room. Even Yuta leaves until you and Jungwoo are alone in the library. A heavy silence hangs between you as you run his words through your mind.

“Do I not want to hear about them, or you just don’t want to talk about them?” You situate yourself more comfortably in his lap, your arms wound around his neck, straddling him in this chair. In a teasing tone, you say, “Do you think I’ll be jealous when I hear about your past partners? Do you think I’ll call you a slut when you tell me your number?”

Jungwoo smiles at your tone. “One hundred and fifty, give or take a few. That’s my number. Some were just flings. Some were whirlwind romances like the type you see in films. But none of them have been like you.”

You slide your fingers up into his hair and grip, tugging it lightly. “I bet you say that to everyone.” You lean forward and lick at his neck, quickly following it with a short bite. Jungwoo’s low groan sends a bolt of heat down to your pussy. “And that’s a high number for someone who once told me that he was a modest gentlemanly sort. Some might call you slutty, Jungwoo.” You kiss his throat again and this time you feel him moan, it vibrates beneath your lips, and you smirk while grinding down on his lap. “Do you want me to call you a slut?”

He laughs, and it’s so light and sweet that you almost forget that you’re in the process of attempting to seduce him. Jungwoo’s hands tickle down your sides, and soon you’re laughing and crying, collapsing forward against his chest and begging him to stop.

“They can all hear us if we continue this here.” Jungwoo whispers against your ear. “My room’s sound-proofed a bit. Should we move this up there?”

You shake your head and rest it on his chest. “No. I’m fine here. It’s comfy.”

“Alright.” Jungwoo’s hands fall to your hips, and for a few moments the two of you remain like that, soaking in the quiet of the house, the heat of the radiator, the smell of the books. Distantly you can hear voices somewhere in the house and footsteps upstairs. Outside, the sky grows darker and you know the coven is preparing to be able to leave the house, but you and Jungwoo don’t move for a while.

When Jungwoo starts moving his fingers, at first he only traces shapes against the back of your jeans, over your ass. You ignore him. But then his hands go still, fingers digging into your soft flesh, and he starts to move you, dragging you forward then pulling you back, grinding you against him. You clutch at his shoulders, bury your face in, and stay quiet as the friction between your jeans and Jungwoo’s begins to affect you both.

You can feel his erection growing harder and harder against you, and you’re certain you’re soaking through your panties.

“Jungwoo.” You whine, your nails scrape over his shoulders.

“Shh, quiet.” One of his hands leaves your ass in favor of stroking your back soothingly. You begin to make your own pace in grinding against him, growing needier the longer this goes on.

When you begin whimpering, needing more than this, Jungwoo nudges you backwards off his lap and gestures to your pants. You quickly step out of them, kicking them off, and letting your panties follow. Jungwoo drags you back into his lap, immediately sealing his lips with yours, and he tugs the blanket up securely over your shoulders, draped down over your back like a cape, hiding you from the view of anyone who might happen into the room.

You reach down for his pants, unfastening them and then plunging your hand inside to finally touch his cock. You take pleasure in the sight of Jungwoo’s head falling back, his eyes fluttering shut to hide their sudden red irises, and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, and you can see his fangs digging into his lip. You stroke his cock, rubbing your thumb over the tip to spread his precum.

“So pretty, my monster.” You whisper, leaning in again to kiss his neck.

“Don’t tease.” He growls, and then he’s captured your lips in a kiss again, his hand knocks yours away, and in a moment he’s drawn you closer with you kneeling up over his erection, ready for you to sit down on him, which you immediately do with a sound of pleasure.

Jungwoo laughs a little and pulls you closer to tuck his face into the crook of your shoulder.

“They can hear us.” He whispers to you.

“Let them listen. I just need you.” You moan and drag your nails over his shoulders and down his spine while his hands grip at your thighs, moving you on his cock. “God, Jungwoo. You feel so good, I don’t care about them.” The blanket slips over your shoulders, falling down around your hips, and the cold air bites into your heated skin. Jungwoo’s cock stretches you as you shift in his lap, taking him in just that much deeper.

He laughs again, licking over your collarbone. “Keep up a running commentary and I’ll never let you have a peaceful moment again,” Jungwoo growls to someone that you can’t see.

A moment later, even you can hear the music blaring from the floors above, so many different songs that they blend together into a tragic mess of noise, drowning out any sounds you and Jungwoo might be making. The music is so loud that the rest of the coven can’t hear you shriek in delight when he lifts you up, and the moan when he presses your back against a nearby bookshelf. They can’t hear the moans he draws out of you, the quiet laughter that you each give against each others mouths, or the way that you call him a slut, and that just makes him laugh harder and pull you tighter, drag his thumb over your clit, thrust into you harder and deeper.

He doesn’t cum inside you. He waits until after you’ve cum, then pulls out and you drop to your knees and jerk him off over your tongue. You close your lips around his tip, jerk your hand up his length, and gaze up into his hungry red eyes.

Jungwoo cums in spurts, filling your mouth, and he quickly falls to his knees to kiss you hungrily down onto the library floor. You tangle together again, Jungwoo’s cum is quickly kissed from your mouth, and his cock once again inside you.

You fuck on the library floor until you’re pushing against his chest, telling him you can’t take anymore. He rolls onto his side, grabs the blanket, and drags it over you, once more hiding your body from his view. You close your eyes for a few moments. It’s tempting to fall asleep, but Jungwoo’s story is echoing in your mind, and through it all you can’t help but wonder. . .

“Why did you decide to tell me about your past?” You ask, brushing your fingers along the line of your boyfriend’s jaw. Jungwoo turns his head, his hand captures yours and he draws your fingertips to his lips for a brief moment. “I’ve been asking for you to give me your story for weeks. What changed?”

In the quiet that follows your question, music continues to boom from upstairs, and Jungwoo stares at you for a few long seconds, his gaze flicking over your face. Jungwoo reaches for your hand and draws it up toward his lips.

“It’s one of my least favorite things about being like this. Knowing that I fall so easily for humans who it’s inevitable that I will someday lose. Knowing that I can’t go out in the daylight, can’t have that one speck of normalcy, that I can’t be there in the daylight to protect the ones I love.” He fiddles with your fingers. “I’ve lost people during the daytime before, suddenly and also when it was expected, but because of being like this I haven’t been able to be there for them. Many of them didn’t know why I couldn’t ever be there with them. I haven’t told many of them about who I am.

“I can’t lose you. Not like I’ve lost all of them. I can’t lose you, knowing that you don’t know my story.” His mouth leaves several warm kisses down your wrist and arm. “I love you with my whole heart, and with what happened earlier, I knew I had to tell you. I want us to know everything about each other. Your story, my story. Tell me your story, my sunshine.”

You smile and scoot closer to rest your head on his shoulder. “Well, when I was born…”

As Christmas edged nearer, the weather outside turned sharper and colder. The days and nights were filled with heavy snowfall. There were several days where you were snowed in, stuck in your apartment on the other side of the city from Jungwoo and you couldn’t even call him because he still didn’t have a phone.

Finally, on Christmas Eve, there’s a break in the snow, and you need a break from your roommates, so you flee the apartment, claiming you’re going on a run for food.

“We know you’re going to see your boyfriend!” One of them calls as you tangle a scarf around your neck and face. “Don’t hurry back, babe! I’m sure he’ll keep you nice and warm through the rest of these cold winter nights.”  

“Maybe he will.” You slip your coat on, and look back over your shoulder to where you can see your roommates sitting together on the couch, huddled under a blanket together, watching some sappy Christmas movie that’s playing on TV while they finish off a bottle of cheap wine. “I’ll text if I’m not coming back later.”

They coo at you as you walk out the door, leaving them to their Christmas movies and wine.

The coven’s house is warmer than usual when you walk in, not only in temperature, but in light and volume. It’s decorated for the holiday season. A tall Christmas tree stands beside the front door, lit up with golden lights and a star on the top, red and blue and silver and gold ornaments drip from the branches. Garland hangs from the banister, you half expect to see mistletoe hanging in the doorways, but as you unwind your scarf from your throat and hang it and your coat on the hooks beside the door, you notice no mistletoe.

But you do hear laughter coming from the back of the house, and lights are on in every corner. Even Doyoung’s usually dismally dark living room, typically furnished with coffins, has a much lighter feel to it. And when you step inside, it’s made even more obvious that the room has changed from the style it normally is decorated in.

There is an overturned table, cards scattered across the floor, a spilled bottle that looks like it’s either red wine or blood, and a ring of clothes are spread around in that whole mess. Extremely curious and also a bit wary, you pass through the room and pause when you reach the doorway into the kitchen.

It’s one thing to see a pile of drunk boys arm wrestling, tossing steak knives into the wall, and playing poker, but it’s a true sight when it’s a pile of drunk vampires, witches, and a handful of werewolves arm wrestling, throwing knives, and cheating at strip poker. You don’t even know some of them, but one thing is certain, they’re all drunk and acting very male.

You try your best to not look at an almost naked Jaehyun sitting on the lap of an entirely naked Taeyong. Various members of the coven and the pack are in similar states of undress, but you only look at Jungwoo, his crooked smile and bright eyes dragging at you from where he sits with his hand in Lucas’s, both of them with their elbows on the table as the arm wrestle.

“What is going on?” You let the joyful atmosphere sweep you into the room.

“The weather trapped us in here.” Lucas tells you, furrowing his brows, apparently determined to defeat your boyfriend. “We had to entertain ourselves, so beer, blood, and other bad ideas. And tomorrow’s Christmas, so we’re celebrating.”

You come to stand beside Jungwoo, put your hand on his shoulder, and as you do that, Lucas looks at your fingers and for just that moment his attention shifts just enough. . .

Crack!

Heads turn to see the sight of Lucas on the floor, Jungwoo crouched over him, pressing Lucas’s hand to the floor in defeat. Victoriously, Jungwoo grins, offers one boast of “I won!” and then he helps the werewolf back to his feet. They fall back into their seats while laughing, and Jungwoo gazed up at you.

“Hello, sunshine. Care for a seat?” He leans back and spreads his legs just enough that you can tell he means for you to sit on his lap, so you do just that. His strong arms (strong enough to defeat a distracted werewolf in an arm wrestling match anyway) encircle your waist and he tucks his chin over your shoulder.

“Sorry.” He murmurs as you shiver at his touch, the cold of his skin seeming quite intense, though you can already feel him warming. “Is the storm over?”

You shake your head. “Just a break, I think. I figured I’d be happier locked in with you here than with my roommates at the apartment. They’re bickering like an old married couple. I wish they would just sort out their issues once and for all. I hope you don’t mind me inviting myself over?”

Jungwoo smiles at the same moment that Lucas lets out a snort of laughter.

“It’s Christmas, sunshine. And when have I ever said no to your company?” He pushes his fingers into your hair and plays with it for a moment, watching you quietly while the dull roar of the rest of the room continues. It takes Lucas loudly clearing his throat to pull you and Jungwoo out of what must have appeared to be lovestruck gazing into each other’s eyes.

“So,” You sit up and glance around the kitchen, taking notice of who is there and who isn’t. You see Ten squished between a shirtless Johnny and Yuta, who looks like he’s clinging to the shirt he’s wearing by removing random accessories now. Ten howls with laughter at Yuta’s ridiculousness, and then he leans in to whisper in Johnny’s ear, putting a smile on both of their faces. And sitting on Johnny’s other side is someone who you don’t know. “Who are the new people?”

Jungwoo fits you into his lap a little more securely and warmly, then begins answering you.

The tall skinny boy beside Johnny is a witch who goes by the name BamBam. A broody looking vampire Jungwoo calls Yuto stands across the room weighing a knife in his hand, waiting his turn to pitch it across the room at the mark. Then there’s the werewolf, the vampire, the witch, and the vampire-witch hybrid who have clumped together near the fridge and somehow brought Doyoung into their seclusion. Vernon, Jun, Wonwoo, and Minghao are their names, Jungwoo whispers in your ear.

“What are they all doing here?”

“The witches are friends with Ten. He and Johnny invites them over to cast some strong protection charms over all of us while that pack is still out there.” Jungwoo’s hand rubs over your thigh. “Yuta and Yuto have been friends forever, since before either of them was turned, so he comes around sometimes, occasionally brings some of his coven to our parties.”

His hand slides higher on your thigh, closer to your crotch, and you tense slightly thinking that surely he doesn’t think you’d let him finger you in a room packed full of beings with supernaturally enhanced senses.

“The Seventeen crew,” He nods at the group near the fridge. “They’re a bit like us, vampires and wolves and witches and a few hybrids and humans. Jaehyun says that a member of their pack goes to your school too. He plays basketball with Jaehyun, so he’s invited them to parties before.”

Jungwoo’s hand is now right at the apex of your thighs, and for the first time you wish that you were wearing more than some leggings because as his finger begins to surreptitiously draw circles over your clit you feel it all perfectly. In seconds you’re wet and throbbing, trying to keep your heartbeat under control.

When you notice Lucas, who’s still sitting right across from you both at this small table, his nostrils flare for a moment as if he’s sniffing the air. His eyes flash briefly and then narrow as he looks at the two of you.

You grab Jungwoo’s wrist and pry his hand away, jamming your legs together as if that’s going to fix how turned on you are now.

Looking for an escape, you notice that none of the young vampires or werewolves or the young witch are in the room.

“Where are the kids?” You stand, drifting quickly across the room, avoiding the glare of a blade as it shoots toward the target, and then you’re out in the hallway. You take a deep breath of cool, dusty air.

The library is too quiet to have anyone in it, but you think you hear a peal of laughter coming from the entertainment room. You’ve just peered around the doorway when Jungwoo materializes begins you, his hands on your hips, his crotch pressed to your ass, and he kisses your neck with a brief graze of his fangs on your skin.

“Come up to bed with me?” He suggests.

The entertainment room is half-dark. All the windows are heavily curtained against the weak daylight outside, but the large TV on the one wall of the room is illuminated revealing a large amount of young boys piled together on the cushy sofa and the floor, watching movies and snacking or drinking. A much tamer version of what’s happening in the kitchen, which is somewhat unexpected considering that they’re usually the wilder bunch.

“My sweet, sweet sunshine.” Jungwoo’s voice is nearly a purr against your skin, his fingertips sneaking under your clothes.

You bat his hands away and turn around in his arms, lift up on your toes, and kiss him. Jungwoo wraps you up, his hands on your waist, and he sweeps you off the floor, carrying you in his arms, quickly up the stairs.

“Why are you so horny?” You laugh a second later as Jungwoo drops you onto his bed. “You couldn’t even wait long enough to walk up the stairs at a normal human speed? You had to use your vampire speed?”

Jungwoo hums a noise of confirmation and climbs onto the bed, already pulling his shirt over his head, and making quick work of your leggings, tossing both off the bed as he covers you with his body, pressing you down into the mattress. His hands move over your thighs, thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin, and you sigh and let him open your legs wider for him.

“Must be something about the cold, something about how warm you are.” Jungwoo whispers in your ear, his voice a dangerous purr, and he licks a stripe up your throat and a second later lets you feel his fangs.

The cold pads of his fingertips run up over your hip, under your shirt, sending waves of goosebumps over your skin.

“Jungwoo,” You moan, reaching for his hand. “Stop teasing me.”

For a moment you think that he’s impossibly not heard you. He tugs your sweater over your head, then the shirt you’d worn beneath it, and when his fingers pluck delicately at the straps of your bra, guiding them off your shoulders before he suddenly reaches around, somehow sneaking his hand under your body, he unfastens your bra. You lie there almost entirely naked beneath him, and he smiles, thumbing over one of your nipples.

“If I’m going to feel your warmth, I should feel it properly, right?” And then his fingers are between your legs, icy against the heat of your wet pussy soaking through your panties. “Do you want me to use you to feel warm, sunshine?”

A new shiver rolls through you when he says those words. Use you. You want Jungwoo to use you. For heat, for pleasure, for blood, for whatever he wants. That thought scares you just a little bit, so far gone for Jungwoo, enraptured by him that you don’t care what he wants to take from you, you’ll freely give it to him.

“Use me. Please.”

You push your hips up, aching for him to take you.

When Jungwoo’s fingers dig into the back of your neck, pulling you up into a sitting position, you go with it. When his thumb moves over your bottom lip, you let your mouth fall open. And when Jungwoo pushes his pants down to expose his erection, you look up at him expectantly.

Jungwoo’s fingers tangle in your hair and he pulls you as far down on his cock as you can go. You gag and reach a hand up to his hip, bracing yourself, still holding eye contact with him. Then you swallow and sink your throat the rest of the way down his cock, your nose presses into his abdomen, his cock buried down your throat.

“Fuck,” Jungwoo’s fingers tighten in your hair. “You feel so good. So warm.”

He pulls back on your hair, drawing his cock out of your mouth just a bit before he pushes back in, keeping a solid grip on your hair to control the pace. You can feel the saliva dripping out of the corners of your mouth, and you’re certain you must look obscene, but Jungwoo looks at you the same as he has every other time he’s seen you, like you’re an angel. His angel.

“You’re so pretty stuffed full with my dick, choking on me.” He swears and leans back when you gag around him again.

Jungwoo drags you back all the way down on him again so that your face is pressed fully into his abdomen. With one hand on the back of your head and the other gripping your chin, he fucks your mouth hard and fast.

Your hand slips from his hip down to his thigh, and you squeeze tightly, just trying to anchor yourself.

“You good?” Jungwoo groans, slowly slightly, but when you moan and push to take him in again, he resumes the bruising pace, going just as hard but somehow with a gentleness behind it that you can’t miss. “I’m going to cum. Are you going to take it like a good girl?”

Moaning, you dig your nails in even while Jungwoo draws you back, pulling almost entirely out of your mouth until only the pink head of his cock sits on your tongue. Your throat feels a bit raw, but you swallow, lift your gaze to Jungwoo’s reddish eyes, and suck lightly on the tip.

“Oh, my angel. You’re so perfect.” He moans, and again he thrusts smoothly down your throat, choking you on his cock. Your nails dig in, and if Jungwoo were alive or not a vampire, you’re sure you’d be drawing blood with how deeply your nails dig. Jungwoo rocks into your mouth a few times, hard and fast, his hands in your hair holding your head in place.

You wish you could see his face as he cums in spurts down your throat, moaning brokenly as his orgasm tears through him. But your face is smushed against his abdomen, and all that you know in the universe is the heat of your body echoed back at you from his skin and the pulse of his orgasm shooting down your throat.

When at last he lets you up to breathe and release your hair, you sit back and stare up at him while sucking at your bottom lip. Your mouth feels puffy, your throat raw, and you know that your chin and the area around your mouth are probably all slobbery.

You’re still looking up at him, not really seeing him, when Jungwoo reaches down and wipes at your chin with his thumb. You come back to yourself a bit then, shivering at his touch.

“Still want me to use you, sunshine?” He asks.

You nod wordlessly, not sure if you can make any sound after the beating your throat just took.

“Think you can warm me up?” Jungwoo’s smile, which so often resembles that of a cherub, is now sharp and seductive, predatory and you’re the prey caught under the gleam of his bloody gaze.

He sits down on the bed and his hand trails over your thigh until you swing a leg over his lap and sit facing him.

You drape your arms around his neck and shift closer, pressing your front to his, not a breath of space between your bodies. A brush of your lips against his throat, tentative and light, draws a gasp and then a chuckle from Jungwoo. You do it again, this time with a scrape of your teeth.

Jungwoo moves so quickly it takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s changed your positions, flipped you over onto your back, his hand lightly presses on your throat, and his lips send small zips of pleasure through you as he kisses down your sternum.

Just as you think he’s going to keep going, he moves his mouth to one of your tits.

You whine involuntarily.

His lips curl into a smile, and he pulls back from your chest to hover over your face. “What do you want?” Jungwoo manages to make his voice teasing and hard at the same time. “What was that sound for?”

Even as he asks that of you, his hand sneaks down between your legs again at last and finds that you’ve completely soaked through your panties. Another involuntary noise leaves you, and your hips lift to his touch.

Jungwoo growls lowly, his hands grab at your hips, fingers digging in roughly as he twists you around onto your belly. He tears your panties down to your knees, kneads your ass for a moment before he dips his fingers into the space between your thighs, slipping through your wetness.

He pushes into you suddenly, thrusting in deeply, and you feel your insides curling with pleasure. Jungwoo’s roughness is a turn-on, each slam of his cock inside your pussy forces another wail of pleasure from you. Jungwoo holds your hips tightly and he bends forward over you, and growls in your ear.

You’re not sure what’s hot him in such an animalistic mood, but he keeps growling and moaning as he fucks you, spitting dirty words and phrases as he fucks you into the mattress.

Jungwoo feels so rough and hot, reaching so deep inside you, that tears are forced to your eyes. You twist your fingers in the sheets, crying from the pleasure, babbling nonsense which only gets more nonsensical when Jungwoo’s hand slaps against your ass. It stings for a moment, blurring into pleasure.

“Cum for me.” He moans in your ear, hand coming down on your ass again as he thrusts several times shallowly into you. “I’ve been missing this. Needed you these past few days, needed you under me, need you to cum.”

“Then fuck me right. Deeper.” You look back over your shoulder at him.

Jungwoo’s fangs are on full display, his eyes a bloody red, and he looks very much like he’s holding back from tearing into you, from his orgasm. He looks every bit a monster, but somehow that doesn’t scare you at all because he’s still Jungwoo, still soft under all those sharp edges and vivid eyes.

He holds your gaze as he sinks fully into you, as deep as he can be. You let out a long wavering noise, and then you fall apart.

Your orgasm pulses through you, and you drop your head to the mattress, burying your face in the sheets to muffle your cries and wipe away your tears.

Jungwoo flattens himself against you. His hands slide up, along the length of your arms until his fingers lace through yours, and he keeps thrusting shortly but deeply, sending flares through your core that extend your orgasm until Jungwoo’s mouth closes around your shoulder.

There’s no bite of his fangs, but his teeth do dig into your shoulder, his lips soft on your skin, and when Jungwoo moans they vibrate through you and his cum warms you from the inside out.

Jungwoo’s arms slip under your body, hugging you against him, and you stay like that for several minutes until loud laughter and rumbling footsteps sound from outside the door. Jungwoo rolls off of you then, his softened cock leaving you empty but for the semen that drips out of you as your pussy clenches around nothing.

You flip over onto your back and Jungwoo tucks into your side, back to normal, acting a bit small and sweet.

Overhead, the ceiling shakes and you have a feeling that the young vampires and the werewolves might be playing around up there. A howl of pain from up there only supports that, but then the house falls silent again, for just a moment or two before Jungwoo decides to fill the quiet. He hums first, and then slowly begins singing as outside the house the sun breaks through the cover of the clouds for the first time in days. It fills the room with a warm yellow haze, spread over the floor on the other side of the room, and Jungwoo sighs a little sadly, but he doesn’t let it weigh him down for long.

“You are my sunshine…” Jungwoo sings, dropping sweet kisses along your upper arm, over your shoulder, to your throat. When you crack a smile, he bursts into laughter, which he quickly tucks into the crook of your neck. “I seriously love you.”

You slide your fingers into his hair, rubbing soothingly at his scalp. “I seriously love you too, Jungwoo.”

The sunlight doesn’t last long, soon the clouds roll back in, and the snow of the morning turns to rain. After a while, even the rain just turns to mist, hanging gray and damp in the air as the snow on the streets and sidewalks dissolved into grimy slush.

You and Jungwoo move back downstairs after a while, and find that half of the party has moved into the entertainment room, piled together to watch a movie.

Jungwoo pulls you into the room, and situates you on his lap where you sit beside Doyoung and Yuta on one side and a sleepy witch, who you believe Jungwoo called Wonwoo, on your other side. Johnny and Ten are tangled together in a nest of blankets on the floor, and you’re pretty sure that Jaehyun and Taeyong are making out at the pool table because the crack of pool balls against each other stopped several minutes ago, but you can hear them whispering to each other.

Jungwoo rests his chin on your shoulder as the afternoon fades into night. The film on screen changes from whatever was on before to a Christmas film at WinWin’s insistence, which Yuta and Taeil were only too happy to endorse. The members of the coven and the pack and the guests that fill the room fluctuates over the hours, but you and Jungwoo stay right where you are. You tuck your face against his shoulder and doze, passing in and out of sleep depending on the volume in the room.

At one point you wake, and the room is empty except for you and Jungwoo, everything is dark and you’re lying down on the couch with Jungwoo behind you. You slip back under before he can even notice you’re awake.

The next time you wake, Lucas is crouched in front of you, talking to Jungwoo in a low voice.

“..so sweet.” He whispers, and you keep your eyes mostly closed so you can eavesdrop a bit before they know you’re awake. “I could almost taste it in the air.”

Jungwoo’s hand slides over your arm, tracing a delicate line down to your hand, and you feel his voice vibrating against your back when he speaks. “I’ve told you before what I think about that, Lucas.” There’s not quite a warning tone in his voice, but it raises your hair on end, and you shiver a bit. Jungwoo draws his hand away, as if it was his touch that caused your chill.

You twitch, reaching again for his hand, and then you remember that you were meant to be pretending to sleep.

“Don’t go,” You mumble, putting as much sleep into your voice as you can. “Give me your hand.”

Both of the boys laugh a bit, and Jungwoo clamps his hand around yours. You happily pull your joined hands up to your chest and settle back into him. You open your eyes and meet Lucas’s. His eyes gleam golden, and it’s from more than just the Christmas tree’s lights glowing through the doorway. He smiles down at you for a moment, before his gaze flicks back up to Jungwoo.

“I’ll see you next week. You can’t break tradition with our New Year’s Eve plans.” Lucas points at Jungwoo.

Jungwoo reaches up and grabs Lucas’s finger that’s pointed in his face, and says, “I won’t miss it.”

“Is this a boys-only event, or am I allowed?” You ask.

“You’re coming along, my sunshine.” Jungwoo kisses your cheek and drops his hold on Lucas’s finger. The werewolf immediately walks away, and before he disappears from the room, Jungwoo calls out, “See you next week, Lucas!” And you call out “Bye!”

The rest of the evening passes there on the sofa, making quiet conversation until a clearly drunk BamBam stumbles into the room, toting Minghao with him, and by all appearances they were planning to get up to some drunken spell-casting. That’s the point when you figure you should get up off the sofa to see what the rest of the supernatural beings you’ve surrounded yourself with are up to.

Stepping into the kitchen is somehow more chaotic now than it was hours ago when you arrived at the house. Because someone decided to bake, someone else decided to cook, and most of the room decided to eat. Jaemin ducks under Kun’s arm to sniff at the pot on the stove while Mark and Vernon (the wolf from the Seventeen pack) look over Ten’s shoulder as he pulls something out of the oven.

Ingredients are scattered around the kitchen, flour hangs in the air like a mist, and as you step into the room you realize that the games of earlier are continuing as a knife narrowly misses Jungwoo.

“Sorry!” Yuta laughs, slinging his arm around Yuto’s shoulders and shaking the younger man. “His aim’s a bit fucked, but we’re working on it!”

A cat sneaks through the room, twisting between legs until finally it stops and curls itself around Ten’s ankles. The lithe black cat looks up at him and meows once, but even with the din of the room, Ten hears the soft sound.

He closes the oven door, sets the timer and then stoops down to scratch the cat behind the ears and scoop it up into his arms. Jeno hovers at his shoulder, cooing at the cat until Ten tells him to stop because she doesn’t like it.

You watch Ten look across the room to meet Johnny’s eye, and the smile they share is sweet, yet almost conspiratorial. Ten lifts the cat up to bury his face in her fur, and maybe he whispered something to her because the cat leaps from his arms and sets off as if on a mission.

Somewhere in the house, a grandfather clock strikes midnight.

Ten snaps his fingers and half of the lights in the house extinguish. There’s a yelp from upstairs and a moment later Taeyong appears looking frazzled. Jaehyun follows soon after, smoothing his hair down and tugging at his shirt but nothing can hide the large bruise on his throat.

“Everyone!” Ten calls, drawing the attention his light trick didn’t attract. “It’s Christmas now, and there are presents to be handed out.”

“What if we don’t celebrate Christmas?” Haechan chimes in from the doorway.

“Then just shut up and enjoy your present.” Ten responds without looking at the younger boy. “First up is our Taeyong.”

Ten waves his hand and a box appears in front of Taeyong. Taeyong tears it open, and he’s barely exclaimed in surprised joy at the stock of games inside when Ten’s moving on to the next person. Each name he calls out, a gift appears in front of them, even the visiting pack receive gifts, and finally only you and Jungwoo remain.

Johnny still laughing from his gift which he refuses to pull out of the box and won’t let anyone see. (But everyone can kind of guess what type of gift it must be based off the wink Ten gave him as he opened it.) Ten’s smile fades from devious to a normal, relaxed smile when he finally turns his gaze to you and your boyfriend.

“This is my favorite present I’m giving tonight.” Ten’s voice drops to a calm, quiet level. “I’ve watched the two of you, in a totally non-creepy way. I know how difficult it is for a human or a witch or a werewolf to be with a vampire who can never step outside in daylight. Jungwoo, I know how greatly you wish you could be there for her, with her when she walks through the streets on a spring day. You’re a romantist, and I’m sure you’ve thought about seeing the cherry blossoms together, if only you could.

“So, here is my gift to the pair of you.” He crouches down, and the black cat streaks back into the room, and Ten pets her and murmurs something rhythmic under his breath that can only be a spell of some sort. The cat shivers and begins meowing, and it’s almost disturbing to see the way that the bright green color of the cat’s eyes are swallowed by the black of the pupil.

The room is silent when Ten stands up. He takes a ring off his finger, and holds it out to Jungwoo.

“I’m giving you sunlight. I’m giving you freedom, Jungwoo.” When Jungwoo hesitates, Ten steps forward and grabs Jungwoo’s hand, pressing the ring into his palm. “It’s spelled to protect you, to allow you to walk out in the daylight so you can be together, so you can take her to all of those places she’s been dragging me to since she can’t be with you.”

You’ve been holding your breath this whole time, but finally you let it out, and with it comes a burst of tears.

Before you get the chance to envelop Ten in a hug, Jungwoo beats you there. Even though Ten is smaller than him, Jungwoo hides his face in Ten’s shoulder and presses him close, his voice muffled as he gives his thanks many times over.

You throw yourself in on the hug as soon as Jungwoo begins to peel himself away, and you’re still hugging Ten when Johnny comes over. He puts his hand low on Ten’s back and laughs, “Why are you giving Jungwoo a ring before you put a ring on my hand? I knew you were secretly in love with him.” Ten laughs as well, but when he grabs Johnny’s hand, you notice him trace a circle around Johnny’s ring finger, like a silent promise.

When you turn and look at Jungwoo, he’s staring down at his hand, at the elegant black ring. “This is incredible, Ten.”

“It’s nothing,” Ten waves his words away. “I’ve offered John a ring like this before, but he claims he’s a night owl and doesn’t really miss the sun. And the two of you are a special circumstance. Like, it’s actually a really complex spell, but for the two of you, it’s worth it. I hope you enjoy the sun again, Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his, “I’ll definitely enjoy the sunlight. Let’s go.” He nods toward the front of the house. “I want to watch the sunrise with you.”

You say goodbye to everyone, wish them a Merry Christmas, and head for the front door to put your layers back on against the frigid cold.

You’re about to walk out the door, Jungwoo bouncing giddily beside you even though night still lays thick and dark over everything outside, but you find your way is blocked.

“Doyoung?” Jungwoo can’t wipe the smile off his face even as he gives the older vampire a look of confusion.

Wordlessly, Doyoung reaches for Jungwoo’s hand and lifts it to inspect the band of Ten’s gift. He twists and turns Jungwoo’s hand, looking at the ring from every angle, and finally he drops the hand and instead wraps his arms around Jungwoo in a tight, somewhat fatherly hug.

“Doyoung, what are you doing?” Jungwoo hugs him in return, but pulls back to look at the elder’s face. “Why’re you hugging me?”

He jerks Jungwoo back into his hug. “That ring is good. Really good. From what I can tell, Ten made it the best of any I’ve ever seen, so you’re free to walk in daylight as much as you want.”

Jungwoo makes a face at you, and you smile but hide it behind your scarf which you wrap around your neck and lower face quickly. Jungwoo laughs a little, “Doyoung, are you, like, afraid I’m going to leave now or something? I’m not going anywhere. You’ve been stuck with me for hundreds of years, you can’t get rid of me this easily.” He squeezes Doyoung tightly until he groans and pushes out of Jungwoo’s arms.

“And, by the way, uh,” Doyoung rubs the back of his head and glances between Jungwoo and you before he says, “I’m sorry I never told you that it was possible to walk in sunlight. Spelled objects like this are difficult to come by, and there aren’t too many witches who are skilled enough to make them properly. I never wanted to get your hopes up, so I thought it best to keep it to myself. I didn’t even know Ten was powerful enough to do the spell.”

Jungwoo slips around behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and you take his hand and hold it up so you too can inspect the ring.

He continues talking to Doyoung for a few moments, but you’re too busy tracing the fine lines over the surface of the ring, winding together—over and under each other in a complex pattern that you feel can almost spell out words—and coming together in a tight knot around a blue stone. It’s beautiful even if you didn’t know what magic it was endowed with.

You don’t notice Doyoung leaving, only Jungwoo spinning you around and guiding you out the door.

Jungwoo leads you across the city, up to the top of a building whose rooftop has been transformed into a greenspace, a park floating in the sky. Up there you’re above the rest of the city, a breeze licks at your hair, chilly against your cheeks,  it that gives you a good excuse to tuck into Jungwoo’s side as the pair of your settle down on a bench and look at the horizon.

As the edge of the navy sky fades into a pale peachy pink, Jungwoo’s hand tightens around yours, and you look up at him.

“Are you excited? Nervous?” You ask, and he looks down at you with something indecipherable in his eyes. “Scared?”

“What if it doesn’t work? What if the moment the sun’s rays reach us I’m fried? But also,” He takes a deep breath and let’s it sigh out of him again. “What if it does work? Then the world is completely open to me again. I’ll have all this freedom that hasn’t been possible for hundreds of years. It’s scary, knowing that there’s nothing anymore that can stop me from walking down a sunlit street with you, finally seeing you in broad daylight with the sun warm on your skin, bringing out new colors of you I haven’t yet discovered. I’m all of those things. Excited. Nervous. Scared. My future has been rewritten.”

You feel a shaky smile on your lips, warm tears rising to your eyes, and you rest your head on his shoulder. Maybe it’s silly to cry, but you feel so many emotions for Jungwoo right now. Love and excitement and pride and happiness and many other things that turn to tears and force their way out.

The sky grows lighter by degrees.

Navy to violet to peach and gold. Sapphire to lilac and blazing orange gilding the edges of clouds.

And then there she is. The sun. It peeks over the horizon, rising slowly, a molten ball of light breaking over the world.

You sit up and watch Jungwoo’s face, holding his hand in yours so tightly it hurts. You watch the light climb his body and reach his face, the warmth kissing his skin, and the sound he lets out breaks your heart and sweeps an enormous amount of love through your veins for this man sitting in front of you. His breath turns shaky and then he breaks altogether, tears leak from his eyes but he’s smiling, staring at the sun and all the colors of daybreak and then he looks at you and the aching smile on your lips, the sunlight warm on your skin as well.

“So beautiful.” Jungwoo laughs, his cheeks glittering with sunlit tears. “I can’t remember the last sunrise I saw, I’d almost forgotten.”

You tuck into his side again, curling up there on that bench that sits on top of the world. Later you’ll show him around the city, take him places that are closed by nightfall, but for now you’ll sit here with your boyfriend for his first sunrise in nearly three hundred years.

In the week between Christmas and the New Year, you don’t hardly spend a moment apart from Jungwoo. You finally bring him over to your apartment, introduce him to your roommates, beg him to spend the night when both of your roommates have to go out of town on some mysterious trip (although it doesn’t take much more than a Please and the slide of your hand over his thigh to get Jungwoo to stay). You spend a lot of time with the coven too, but now that Jungwoo can walk in daylight he wants to spend his days in the sun, although unfortunately it’s winter and many of the days are overcast, clouded over with thick gray clouds that unleash rain or snow or a combination of both.

Some days you and Jungwoo meet up with Ten or some of the wolves.

When Lucas found out about the ring on Jungwoo’s hand (thanks to the ring being all that the pack could talk about when they returned to the den that morning), he’d texted you and immediately came to where you and Jungwoo were.

Lucas was a constant third wheel to your party, but not like an unnecessary third wheel, more like the three of you were a tricycle, all three of you rolling along perfectly.

And New Year’s Eve was no different. You were meeting Jungwoo and Lucas at the Leaky Cauldron Pub, and it was a bit after seven when you arrived.

The pub was packed, and you were glad that the two guys had gotten there early enough to save a small table in the back corner, just big enough to sit the three of you if you squeezed in tight. Lucas was downing a beer when you walked in, and Jungwoo picked at an appetizer of nearly raw beef, but when you sat down they both straightened up.

“You’d think I’d be tired of the two of you by now.” You smile and sit down beside Jungwoo, slipping your coat and scarf off. “Happy New Year’s Eve. What’s our plan?”

“We’re doing it.” Lucas tips his beer to you. “Drinking our way into the new year.”

Jungwoo shakes his head. “That’s what Lucas is doing. Someone has to be responsible.”

“I won’t get drunk.” Lucas argues and waves at the bartender, signaling he would like another. Then to you he says, “It’s the worst part about being a wolf. My metabolism is too fast. I would have to chug an entire keg to feel properly buzzed, but that’s barely any fun. Jungwoo’s just a killjoy tonight.”

You slide your hand over Jungwoo’s and lean in to kiss him on the cheek. “Cheer up. We can watch the sunrise again. It’s not too late to catch a flight and be among the first people to see the new year’s sunrise.”

“That sounds amazing.” Jungwoo’s eyes go a bit unfocused, and you know he’s imagining it. “But maybe next year. We can go to Taeil’s island, make a big party out of it, and then you and I can ring in the new year on the beach.” He curls his arm around your shoulders and drags you in so he can press his lips into your hair.

Lucas crinkles his nose. “You’re not talking about fucking on the beach, are you? Right in front of me?”

Jungwoo’s head snaps toward the werewolf. You can’t see the look he’s giving him, but you can feel how tense Jungwoo is now. Your cheeks flush with heat because having beach sex with Jungwoo is exactly where your mind went to. Lucas breaks into a smile while he quickly buries in his new beer.

A silent conversation passes between them until finally Lucas pushes away from the table and moves over to the bar.

“What was that about?” You ask.

“Nothing. Lucas just says and thinks weird stuff sometimes. Nothing you need to worry about.” He kisses you again, as if that’s going to distract you from the weird vibe. Jungwoo pops a bloody piece of meat into his mouth, and you try to muffle the sound of your stomach growling, but it’s useless when your boyfriend (and half of the other people in the pub) have incredible hearing.

Just as he opens his mouth to say something about the rumble that was audible even to you, Lucas drops back down into his seat and slides a plate of several different types of appetizers across the table to you. “I’ll share so you don’t sound like you’ve got a pack of hungry wolves in your stomach.”  

The mood changes after that. Lucas drinks more, Jungwoo relaxes. It’s almost like nothing strange passed between them. The three of you laugh and drink and eat, and by ten o’clock the pub is even more packed than before. There’s barely room to move, and you, with your basic human hearing, can’t hardly follow anything that either Jungwoo or Lucas is saying.

“Can we get out of here?” You ask. Jungwoo nods, his gaze flicking over to Lucas who nods as well.

Jungwoo excuses himself to the pub’s only bathroom to clean blood off his face where it’s dripped from that raw meat he’s been snacking on. Lucas edges closer to you when Jungwoo squeezes his way through the place, and at first you can’t figure out why, but he keeps glancing over his shoulder, and when you follow his gaze you see two ancient warlocks, warped and grayed with age staring at you and licking their yellowed teeth.

You’re probably the only human in the pub, so you let Lucas sit as close to you as he can. He gives off waves of heat, and he smells like ginger and honey. Several minutes pass before either of you actually says anything.

“What’s taking Jungwoo so long?” Lucas asks, glancing toward the hall.

“I’ll go look for him.” You stand up, grab your coat, and sling your scarf around your throat. “You go pay.” Lucas nods, drains the last dregs of his beer, and walks to the bar to pay off the bill. The short hallway to the grimy bathroom is empty, and when you try the handle of the bathroom door, it opens easily to reveal an empty room.

And then you hear a scream.

Right across the hall from the bathroom is an exit door, and as you step back from the disgusting bathroom, you notice the door is cracked open, allowing in a biting breeze and a few flurries of snow. The edge of the door looks shredded, several lines of rended metal, the doorframe bent out of shape. Some familiar stench clouds the air, but you can’t quite place it. Then you hear ;oud, worried voices sound from outside the door, and you push it open, and step out into the winter night of the pub’s back alley.

A group of people are huddled around something at the mouth of the alley, and as you walk closer you see several things all at once: a dent in the brick wall as if something had been crushed into it, a body crumpled on the ground, red staining the fresh snow on the ground. You see a hand adorned with a now-familiar black ring.

“Jungwoo!” You cry and run forward, skidding a bit on the snow, but it doesn’t matter at all because you collapse beside him.

The crowd of people step away, only to press back in when you press your hand to his cheek. It’s difficult to tell how he is. You can’t check his pulse or his breathing since he has neither. The amount of blood is worrying, and when you drag back one of his eyelids, his pupils are blown wide, rimmed with a thin edge of red. Your hands flutter nervously over him, and that’s when you find the wound weeping blood beneath his coat.

You choke down a sob.

All around you the crowd are talking. You hear the word ‘ambulance’ and you hear ‘dead’ and you don’t want either of those words to be necessarily in the moment. You clutch him tighter, and that’s when you feel his fingers twitch against your own. He’s still alive, but if you had to guess, you would say that he’s only just barely alive.

Tears burn hot down your cheeks.

You know what he needs. As long as he’s still alive, he has the chance to heal completely. Jungwoo just needs to drink. You’ve seen this before, one time when he was playing around rather roughly with Yuta and a few knives plus a rather wild Yuta meant that Jungwoo was left covered in blood, looking rather faint. You’d panicked even then, and right now, in this alley, Jungwoo looked much worse off. That evening Jaehyun had been close by and a few minutes of drinking from the wolf had mended him perfectly. He just needed a drink. He needed...

A familiar voice suddenly breaks through the murmurs of the crowd.

Lucas is haloed against the streetlights, his face blurred through your tears. He takes one look first at you, and then his gaze falls on Jungwoo in your lap. All the color drains from his face, and he drops down on Jungwoo’s other side, taking his hand for a moment. You think his eyes glint gold.

“What happened to him?” His voice is hoarse, a low growl rolling out with his words.

“I don’t know I came out here and he was like this.” You wipe at your face, trying to banish the tears because crying won’t do anything right now.

Lucas lifts Jungwoo into his lap, into his arms, and he  looks around at the crowd. Then his eyes are back on you, piercing in the dark. “What the hell’s happened?”

“I have some suspicions, but I can’t tell you here. Take us somewhere safe. Take us to the den.” You press your hands to Lucas’s arms and dig your nails in. “Please, Lucas. Get us out of here, somewhere safe. He’s bleeding and he needs you, he needs a drink.”

Lucas stands up, cradling Jungwoo in his arms. “Follow me. Stick close so I don’t lose you.”

You twist your hand in the back of his shirt, winding so tightly that it looks like it might tear.

The crowd parts around Lucas as he carries Jungwoo away from that alley, and you stick so close that you almost feel like his shadow. Lucas is tense, on edge, glancing around at every shadow and sniffing the breeze that whips your hair around your face.

“Walk beside me.” He tells you after a moment, so you shift to be beside him, still clinging onto his shirt. There’s that comforting heat and the scent of ginger and honey again. “We’ll be there soon. Jungwoo, you’d better hold on for just five more minutes or else. I’ll force Ten to resurrect you so I can kill you myself if you die on us.”

You’re not sure, but when you glance over at your boyfriend’s head bouncing lightly on Lucas’s shoulder, you think you see a flicker of a smile attempting to make itself known on his lips.

You have no clue where you’re going, you just cling to Lucas and let him guide you along the streets of the city, leading you in deeper to the center where the buildings are packed tighter, where they grow up instead of out, and the sky is lit from underneath, pale violet due to all the lights and pollution.

He leads you into the lobby of a fancy building, walking right through the pristine glass doors, passed the doorman who nods in recognition and doesn’t seem to find anything strange about Lucas toting an unconscious man in his arms. He walks over to the elevator, and once you’re safely ensconced inside the astoundingly reflective copper walls, he presses the button marked ‘P’ with his elbow.

You stand in silence for the minute and a half it takes for the elevator to shudder to a stop. The doors open and Lucas steps out, dragging you along with his since your fingers are still nearly sewn into the fabric of his shirt.

An open floorplan, enormous apartment with a view of the city you’re sure must cost millions of dollars. Marble floors blend into wood and soft carpet. The kitchen is a glowing monstrosity of chrome and quartz. A screen covers an entire wall with several sofas and armchairs and beanbag chairs scattered around in front of it.

It’s all a lot cleaner than you would think a plus full of werewolves would be.

And Lucas passes it all by, breezing passed the kitchen and down a hallway, up a flight of stairs, down another hallway, and finally he pushes open a door at the end of the hallway.

This room reflects the modernistic beauty of the level below. Soft carpet floors, an enormous TV, an electric fireplace, a walk-in closet, en-suite bathroom, a wall of windows so clean you feel like you could walk clear out into the sky. And then there’s the enormous plush bed, the sheets all rumpled. But once you look at the bed, you can’t look away. And it’s not even just because that’s where Lucas carefully places Jungwoo.

There are shackles attached to the headboard, two more to the footboard. The wall above the headboard and even sections of the headboard itself are shredded with clawmarks and teeth marks, chunks of the headboard seem to be missing.

When you hear Lucas’s quiet voice, softly coaxing Jungwoo, you finally tear your gaze away from that devastation.

“Come on, Jungwoo. Drink.” Lucas says. He’s sitting up, holding Jungwoo up as well with your boyfriend’s face tucked into his neck. Lucas’s hand cups the back of Jungwoo’s head, urging his mouth against his throat. “Please, drink from me.”

Jungwoo doesn’t move, and you feel your heart stutter in your chest, as if it’s a moment away from stopping. If Jungwoo doesn’t drink, he won’t heal, he won’t have the nourishing blood he needs to survive.

With a growl, Lucas lifts his own wrist up to his mouth. You flinch at the sound of his teeth cutting into his flesh, cringe when you see blood splatter over his sheets, dripping from his mouth as he moves Jungwoo again and presses his wrist against Jungwoo’s lips.

One moment Jungwoo is limp, lifeless, and the next he’s clinging to Lucas’s wrist, drinking.

“Yes, just like that.” Lucas sighs, petting Jungwoo’s hair. He leans his head back and gazes up at the ceiling while Jungwoo continues drinking. Once again, you find that you can’t peel your eyes away. You haven’t really ever seen what Jungwoo looks like when he’s drinking from someone. Those times he’s drunk from you, you haven’t really been able to see much of him, but now… it’s mesmerizing although messy and violent.

Lucas’s eyes burn golden with pleasure, and you know the venom of Jungwoo’s fangs is coursing through Lucas’s veins. His eyes roll toward you and he smiles lazily.

Relief surges through you suddenly, a bit belated, and you feel everything hit you at once. You didn’t realize how cold you were until that moment. You shiver once and then again and then you can’t stop. You wonder if maybe it’s shock or if it’s just the cold, but either way, a hot shower sounds like exactly what you need, and Jungwoo is in good hands with Lucas, so you walk away.

The bathroom attached to Lucas’s bedroom is probably the size of your room at your apartment. A massive bathtub, a shower large enough to allow four people to shower at once, a double vanity, a fancy toilet you’re too embarrassed to admit you don’t know how to use, a urinal and a bidet. It’s all so fancy.

You strip and step into the shower, within seconds thick clouds of steam billow around you, soaking into your bones until the cold is a distant memory. You wash everything away, all your stress, your panic and worries, the feel of tears clinging to your cheeks. Some part of you wonders if this water is spelled water, if that’s why you feel so relaxed and reenergized afterward.

You’re scrubbed nice and clean, warm and calm. There’s a robe hanging on the back of the door, and you take it, tie it around you, and step back out into Lucas’s room. Jungwoo’s reclined in the bed, his eyes closed, but he looks much better. Where before he’d been as pale as ice, now a bit of pink tinges his skin.

“Feel better?” Lucas asks, and you spin around. He’s sitting on a small sofa in front of the windows, silhouetted against the city lights. “Jungwoo’s dozing. He’ll need more blood in a bit, but I didn’t want to give him too much too quick. Come over here.”

You do as he says, sitting down carefully beside him, and folding your legs under yourself. You can’t help but look around again, once more taking in the glamour of the apartment. Something of it must show on your face.

“Not quite what you were expecting?” Lucas laughs and cocks his head to the side.

You shrug. “It’s just every time all of you called it ‘the den’ I was picturing something underground. Not a penthouse. Certainly not this much luxury, all this glass and chrome and marble and stuff.”

Lucas smiles. “We’re lucky. Kun’s in a good profession, a celebrity chef among wolves. The rest of us all do pretty well too, so it’s easy to afford a place like this. We’re not all dusty mongrels like that other pack. Do you think they’re the ones that did this to him?” He turns and looks back at the bed, at Jungwoo’s shadowed form among the pillows and the blankets.

“I saw huge scratches on the exit door into the alley,” You tell him. “And there was a smell that I couldn’t quite place at first, but I think it was the smell of that one that cornered me the day I was with Ten. And on the alley wall, there was a section of the bricks that were crushed, almost like Jungwoo had been thrown into them. Plus, the wound in his side. I couldn’t see much, not with all those people around, but from what I could tell, I think it was a bite mark.”

A low growl breaks through Lucas’s bared teeth. “Those mutts need to be stopped. They need to be reminded that the coven is under our protection.” He rolls his neck on his shoulders and stands up, beginning to pace as if he can’t sit still with all of this agitation boiling under his skin.

“I don’t see what we can do, though.” You look up at him, following his unsettled movements.

Lucas makes another noise of anger, then tells you, “Stay here.”

As soon as he stalks out of the room, you move over to the bed, crawling close to Jungwoo.

His mouth is stained red with Lucas’s blood, a trail of it leads down his chin. His hair is a ruffled mess, and you attempt to smooth it down gently. You’re so careful with him, as if he’s breakable, as if he’s as fragile as you are rather than the tough centuries old monster that he is. You’re gentle as you peel his jacket from his side, and as you push up his sweatshirt and t-shirt he wears under his jacket. There’s a bloody mark still there on his side, perfectly in the shape of a bite from a large canine.

When you touch it, just a light brush of your fingers, the blood wipes away, revealing nearly perfect skin underneath except for a slightly raised pearly scar that fades even as you watch.

Jungwoo gasps and sits up.

“You’re awake.” You sigh, sitting back on your ankles. Again, hot tears burst into your eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Groggy.” Jungwoo blinks for a moment as if he’s adjusting to the amount of light (or lack thereof) in the room. “Thirsty. My whole body aches.”

His eyes focus on you, sliding from your eyes wet with tears to the wet strands of your hair to the plush robe you’ve got wrapped around you and the bare section of your chest that’s visible between the two side of the robe. He looks away.

“Where’s Lucas?”

You brush your hair back with your fingers and lean a little away from Jungwoo. You’ve never been afraid of him, not really, but you’ve also never seen him hungry like he is now. You can see it in the shade of red that his eyes are--so bright that they burn through the darkness as if lit from within--and that scares you only a little, only enough to make you cautious about keeping your distance.

“He just left a minute ago. He said to stay here.” You glance over at the doorway. “I think he was probably going to talk with the rest of the pack about teaching that other pack a lesson.”

Jungwoo sits up straighter and grimaces. “They definitely need to learn a lesson.” He glances over at you again, this time his gaze lands on your bare legs before he looks quickly away. “This isn’t the way I imagined the new year beginning.”

Beside the bed, a clock projects the time onto the wall. “We still have a little over an hour before next year,” You tell him. “Maybe we still have the chance to make it better. When Lucas comes back, you can drink some more from him. That’ll make you feel better.”

At the mention of Lucas, Jungwoo’s eyes narrow just a tiny bit and he looks back at your body wrapped tightly in the robe once again.

“Why are you wearing that?”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Would you rather that I was naked right now? I showered while you fed. I was shivering and the hot water did good for me, and when I got back out I wasn’t going to put those clothes back on, and there was this robe hanging there, so I put it on. Why?”

“I don’t like seeing you in Lucas’s clothes.” Jungwoo admits.

“Jealous?” You can’t help but smile and lean closer to Jungwoo. “You’re jealous of me wearing Lucas’s clothes? This robe is really warm, and it does smell like him. Lucas smells so good, like honey and ginger and maybe cinnamon as well.” You meet Jungwoo’s eyes as you lift the collar of the robe and tuck your nose against it. “So nice.”

“No.” Jungwoo growls, and then you’re on your back with Jungwoo hovering over you, his hands cage you in on either side of your head, and his eyes burn somehow more vibrantly than before. He repeats, “No.”

One of his hands falls to the belt of the robe, tugging it apart, and flinging the robe open in one move. You shiver at the touch of cold air on your bare skin, and Jungwoo groans as he sees your nipples harden from the cold and the arousal that curls in your belly now.

“You’re mine. He can’t have you.” He lowers his mouth to your chest, licking coolly over your chest, circling his tongue around your nipples. He pauses when he’s over your heart, and you feel your body flush with something not so far from panic, then he presses his lips there and pulls back, sitting up a bit more so now he can kiss your lips instead.

You moan as Jungwoo sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you push your fingers under the neckline of his shirt, digging your nails into his shoulders. One of his legs pushes up between yours, a knee right up against your pussy, separated only by a fold of the robe.

“Jungwoo, please.” You gasp, clutching at him and bucking your hips, trying to get the friction you so greatly desire.

He makes a noise and moves to kiss your cheek, stringing a line of kisses down your jaw.

“As much as I hate to interrupt, I think you might need to drink from me a bit more before you continue.” Lucas leans in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, his eyes raking down the shape of Jungwoo pressing your into the mattress. “And also, that’s my bed you’re about to fuck your girlfriend in. At least go do it in Kun’s bed instead. He always gets so flustered when he finds random cumstains on his sheets.” His eyes flit to yours and a devious smile is paired with the words, “Not that I know from experience.”

Jungwoo sits back, allowing you space to breathe again, and that’s when Lucas walks forward, eyes flicking between you and Jungwoo on the bed. You quickly jerk the robe closed again, but not before Lucas’s eyes zeroed in on your exposed chest.

“Lucas,” Jungwoo hisses. “How many times do I have to tell you--”

“This isn’t about her!” Lucas cuts Jungwoo off. His nostrils flare, eyes flashing gold, and he clenches his hands into fists.

“Of course it’s about her. You think you can lie to me now?” Jungwoo twists his hand in the sheets. “All your talk, and you’ve finally got what you want. Don’t think I haven’t seen the game you’ve planned out in your head.”

Something electric crackles through the room.

“What are you two talking about?” You ask, sitting up, trying to get between them a little bit. Hoping that if you can break their line of sight with each other they’ll back down because you don’t like the feeling in the room.

It works somewhat.

Jungwoo sighs heavily and turns to you. “Lucas asked about a threesome several weeks ago. He just suggested that maybe it would be interesting for the three of us to be in bed together. I told him no. And last week he brought it up again, and when I asked him why, he started talking about being able to smell the sex coming off of us after we came down from my room on Christmas Eve. He said he could smell it in the air, so sweet. I knew what he was talking about; the smell of your arousal. When I’m with you that’s all that I can smell and it drives me wild, particularly that night. He’s got a dog’s instincts, sunshine. Putting his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Lucas bares his teeth and a low, rumbling, warning growl rolls from behind his teeth.

“He just wants you.” Jungwoo explains, and now he looks back at Lucas, holding his gaze. Red clashes against gold. “All he wants is to get between us so he can have you.”

Again, the electricity whips around, raising the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck.

“You’re wrong.”

“Like hell, I’m wrong.” The sheets in Jungwoo’s grip tear, the shredding sound apparently not registering to either of them.

“I never suggested the threesome because I wanted to split you and her apart.”

Something softens and breaks a little in Lucas’s eyes as he stares at Jungwoo, at the look of fury on his best friend’s face. You shrink back against the headboard.

Jungwoo spits out the question, “Why would you ask for the threesome if not because you wanted her?”

“It’s never been about her, you ancient moron.” Lucas growls.

His eyes bore into Jungwoo’s. Silence rings through the room for a full minute before Lucas breaks it again.

“Do you know how many wolves just casually let vampires feed from them? None. Zero. It’s true that other supernatural beings are the best food source for vampires, but do you remember who told you that? Me. Because it was fucking convenient. Because I’d seen it happening with Jaehyun. Because I looked at you and thought, oh.”

Suddenly, you feel mildly uncomfortable there in Lucas’s sheets, dressed in Lucas’s robe, listening to Lucas confessing to your boyfriend.

“I tried dropping hints before she came along, but you never understood. I offered my heart to you every time I opened my veins to your hunger, you thirst, Jungwoo.” Lucas sags down onto the bed. “I suggested a threesome because I thought that it would be my only chance to have you like that, to be as close to having you how I imagined. Not because of her. Because of you.”

Jungwoo falls back a bit, stunned.

“Not that you’re not super hot,” Lucas tells you. “You are. Like I would definitely love to be in bed with you too, but, priorities, you know.” He nodded toward Jungwoo with a loose smile. “You’re not mad are you?”

Slowly, you shake your head.

You could be mad. Maybe you should be mad. Lucas just told your boyfriend in front of you that he wants to have sex with him, that he’s kind of in love with him. That he’s been thinking about Jungwoo like this for a while. You could be mad, but you’re definitely not.

You’re too busy picturing it.

A spark of arousal takes life in your belly, licking against your insides until you’re fully aflame with lust thinking about it.

Jungwoo’s head jerks up, looking straight at you. Beside you, Lucas chuckles.

“Maybe you should’ve run the idea by her ages ago.” He laughs. “I think she quite likes it.”

It’s a little strange knowing that both of them can smell how turned on by the idea you are and also hear how quickly your heart beats when Jungwoo moves closer. Your mind is a blur of images: Jungwoo’s hands on your thighs bleeds into the image of Lucas’s hands spanning over your breasts, you imagine Jungwoo’s lips on Lucas’s throat, the look of their bodies together, the way you would look pressed between them.

You but your lip to hold in a moan, but it’s useless when your body is flushed with so much heat and desire.

“So what do you say?” Lucas asks, and you feel him shifting on the bed until his shoulder knocks lightly into yours. “A threesome, and I promise that I’m not planning to steal anyone away. I just want to know what it could be like.”

“I don’t know.” Jungwoo rubs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I could fuck you. You’re definitely not fucking me.” He points a finger at Lucas.

“We don’t have to do that. Not tonight.” Lucas reassures him. “I’m willing to follow whatever rules you set down, but I want to touch both of you, kiss both of you. That’s all I’m asking for. That, and I want you to drink from me again, but that’s honestly more for your own benefit than mine.”

Jungwoo looks your way, his eyes snag against yours, reading what you want. You want him and Lucas, although before this night you’ve never really looked at Lucas in this way.

“Alright. Okay, we’ll do this. Just tonight because it’s a one-off thing, for it?” You and Lucas both nod. Jungwoo scrapes his hands through his hair and sighs. “I’ll feed first before anything else. “

Lucas doesn’t give Jungwoo any time to reconsider. He drags his shirt over his head and then pulls Jungwoo close. Your boyfriend sucks in a breath, and laughs a bit as he turns toward you.

“He does smell nice.” Jungwoo whispers, but Lucas definitely hears, and he laughs, a loud clear sound that probably carries through the entire penthouse. Jungwoo makes a face. “Alright, come back here, stop laughing. It’s weird.”

He curls his fingers around the back of Lucas’s neck and drags him back in. You watch as his nose brushes over Lucas’s skin, as his lips follow that line, and then you know the moment he bites down on Lucas’s jugular because Lucas’s mouth drops open and an obscene moan spills out.

Jungwoo once told you he didn’t want you to see him feeding, particularly when he was feeding from Lucas. He’d told you it was a bloody, violent, messy affair and he’d thought it was scare you off. But now as you witness him curving toward Lucas, holding him close, intimate like lovers, you wonder if perhaps this is the real reason he never wanted you to see.

Lucas’s hands rest on Jungwoo’s waist, his shirt twisted between Lucas’s fingers. Each lap of Jungwoo’s tongue against the wolf’s through causes another moan, each time Jungwoo shifts to drink deeper Lucas clutches him tighter and moans that much louder and desperate.

And then you notice Lucas is hard.

A bulge presses against the front of his pants, and Jungwoo’s thigh rubs right against it.

Lucas’s sounds only stoke that fire of lust inside you. Seeing his head thrown back in pleasure while Jungwoo has his face buried against his throat  gives you hopes for what’s to come tonight.

You’re cautious to touch either Jungwoo or Lucas right now, not quite sure if your touch will break this fragile deal or what will happen.

So you wait, sitting on your hands until the moment you’re called into action.

Jungwoo pulls away, his mouth dripping blood still, and he holds Lucas’s head in both hands. “Clean me up.” Jungwoo commands.

Lucas all but whines and lunges forward, pushing his mouth against Jungwoo’s. You swear the temperature in the room rises when their mouths meet. Lucas kisses Jungwoo desperately, licking at his own blood on your boyfriend’s chin and cheeks, cleaning it from his lips and teeth and tongue. All the while he’s moaning and whimpering, make noises that indicate he might be much more of a sub than you expected.

Jungwoo pushes Lucas away, shoving him down into the pillows, and then he turns to you. “Come here.”

You slide into his arms, into his lap, and let him reel you into a kiss.

Jungwoo doesn’t play any games with you. He kisses you deeply and at the same moment plunges his hand between your legs and slides his fingers right inside of you. “You’re so wet,” He moans against your lips. “Dripping for us. Did it turn you on watching us like that?”

You nod and squeeze your eyes shut, basking in the pleasure as Jungwoo rubs his thumb against your clit and scissors his fingers inside you. You grip his shoulder and bite back your moan, although part of it still escapes you.

“Hush, angel.” Jungwoo kisses the corner of your mouth softly, a complete contradiction to the way that his fingers move inside you. “You don’t want the whole pack to hear you, do you?”

“Place is empty. Didn’t I mention that?” Lucas says breathlessly, shoving his pants off. “They all ran off to deal with our not-so-friendly neighbors. Be as loud as you like. They won’t be back for a while, if I know my pack.”

Jungwoo grins, “Well, in that case.” He hoists you suddenly higher into his lap, his fingers reaching new depths inside of you, and the sound you let out is louder than you’d anticipated.

So there you are, sitting in your boyfriend’s lap, getting finger-fucked into the new year, and when your eyes flutter open and you see Lucas kneeling there beside you, rubbing himself to the sight before him, you whine again, reaching out for him. “I can help you. If you want, if I’m allowed,” You throw a glance at Jungwoo, who nods. “I’ll help you, Lucas.”

“Yeah, fuck. That would be great.” He scrambles to his feet, swaying high over you as he comes to stand right beside your head.

Cautiously, you raise your hand to his cock.

Jungwoo’s got a decently sized cock, but Lucas is massive. He’s long and thick, and now that he’s so close to you, you feel a bit intimidated by his size. But then Jungwoo kisses your cheek, trails fiery kisses down your throat, and you hear him tell you, “Suck him off.”

So you do.

Both of them swear when you push to take Lucas’s cock down your throat. Jungwoo’s fingers curl inside you, Lucas’s hand drops to your hair. “So much for not wanting to share her.” He laughs, but the sound cuts off when you gag around his length.

“Careful, Lucas. It’s not too late. I could end this now.” Jungwoo threatens, but you can hear in his voice that he’s not going anywhere. You can tell that some part of him enjoys seeing you blowing his best friend right in front of his face. “Take him deeper,” He tells you then, his hand a light pressure on the back of your head.

You try your best, sinking down further on Lucas’s cock, but his girth makes that a bit difficult and you whine and attempt to pull back with a shake of your head.

“It’s alright,” Lucas combs his fingers through your hair. “It’s fine. She’s doing great. You’re really doing great. Your mouth feels so good and tight around me.”

You whine and push forward again, wanting to take more of him in with his encouragements.

“Careful.” Jungwoo’s hands push at your robe, and it slides from your shoulder, leaving you totally bare and exposed to both of their eyes, to the cool air of the room. Jungwoo dips his head and your feel his cool lips against your skin, his fingers buried in your pussy. Lucas’s cock stretches your lips, and as Jungwoo nips at one of your breasts, you almost choke on Lucas.

Lucas backs off quickly, sitting down on the bed, his hand immediately going to his cock.

You can feel slobber dripping down from your lips, and Jungwoo smiles at you as he wipes it away. “Pretty girl. Watch this.” His fingers slip from you, and he moves you smoothly off his lap, putting you in the perfect position to be able to see as he presses up against Lucas again. His fingers prod at Lucas’s lips, and Lucas happily opens his mouth to suck the flavor of you from your boyfriend’s fingers. His gaze shifts to you for a moment before he raises his gaze and hangs it on Jungwoo’s, sucking his fingers a bit like a blowjob, not breaking eye contact with Jungwoo.

Jungwoo watches Lucas’s lips, totally transfixed.

The second that his fingers slip from Lucas’s mouth, Jungwoo covers his lips with his own. Your fingers drift down to your pussy of their own accord, and you barely even realize you’re touching yourself until you moan loud enough to draw both Jungwoo and Lucas’s attention. Lucas’s eyes flare golden and Jungwoo just groans.

They both watch for a moment as you pump your fingers inside your pussy, your legs spread wide to give them a clear view. Lucas’s hands drift over Jungwoo, finding his waistband, and his hand disappears inside. You notice the way his eyes watch Jungwoo cautiously even as he closes his hand around Jungwoo’s cock.

Jungwoo hums in pleasure when Lucas starts stroking him, his hips bucking into the touch, but he doesn’t look away from your fingers. Lucas’s lips go to Jungwoo’s throat, kissing his throat slow and sensually, his hand moving slow inside your boyfriend’s pants. Jungwoo moves his hips, leans into Lucas, licks his lips watching you. His jaw flexes, and when he opens his mouth for a moment you see his fangs are fully out. The way he watches you is hungry.

“Fuck, this is too much.” He hisses. Finally he breaks his stare, and grabs Lucas’s head, dragging his mouth away from Jungwoo’s throat, instead tilting his head to the side so now Lucas’s throat is bared to Jungwoo. “I think I need more.”

“Yeah, please.” Lucas pants.

Jungwoo bites deep into Lucas’s throat again. Both of them moan, and you realize Lucas is still jerking Jungwoo off.

The whimper that spills from your lips can’t be helped.

Jungwoo’s head snaps up. He looks quickly between you and Lucas. “I have an idea. Come over here. Lucas, lay back.”

You pull your fingers out of your pussy and crawl over to the two of them. Jungwoo moves you so you’re straddling Lucas, and you feel the werewolf’s cock jump against your thigh, but Jungwoo doesn’t tell you to sit on Lucas’s cock or anything like that. Instead you feel Jungwoo’s fingers inside you for a moment before they’re gone, but quickly replaced by the girth of his cock.

Jungwoo presses fully into you, his chest flat against your back, and your chest in turn is against Lucas’s. “Just like this,” Jungwoo moans. He leans over your shoulder, and as he thrusts deep into you again, you hear the now-familiar sound of him biting Lucas. Jungwoo fucks you up against Lucas while he drinks from the wolf, and it’s a strange turn on.

After a moment Jungwoo pulls his mouth from Lucas’s throat and sits back so he’s kneeling behind you, better able to thrust into you, his hands on your hips. You push yourself a bit as well, and you stare down into Lucas’s big, pretty eyes.

He looks a bit dazed, and when you touch his throat, his eyes roll and he moans. You keep your hand there, fingers applying light pressure, and again you feel his cock jump.

“Both of you are so dirty.” Jungwoo says, and his hips smack roughly against yours, pushing you a bit off balance. Your hand presses more harshly into Lucas’s throat as you try to steady yourself, and the moan that tears out of him nearly pushes you right into an orgasm. Jungwoo reaches under you to flick his fingers over your clit at the same time as he says, “Both of you are blood whores.”

Your orgasm rips through you, electricity crackling under you skin, an explosion of pleasure swiping all the strength from your limbs.

You’re unaware of the exact moment when you collapsed onto Lucas, but then your cheek is against his heartbeat, your hand still curled against his throat, and Jungwoo’s fucking you faster. Your body tingles all over and you desperately want to hear Jungwoo call you that again. You try to push your body back up, you want to do something else that will make Jungwoo call you his blood whore because something about that feels simultaneously like degradation and a praise.

You try fucking yourself back on him, and that earns a deep moan from Jungwoo, but you’re still weak from your orgasm, and your head droops forward.

“I want to be inside her.” Lucas strokes the side of your face. You close your eyes and fall against him, barely able to support yourself. “We could be inside her together.”

Jungwoo swears quietly, and you feel his fingers on your chin, turning you to face him. “Do you want that? Can you take both of us?” His voice is gentle, touch soft, and then he brushes his lips against yours. So different from how he was just seconds ago. “Sunshine, do you want this?”

You nod.

Jungwoo slips his hands under you, lifting you up with your back pressed to his chest. You’re not sure why that orgasm wiped you out so much, but you feel like it’s all been taken out of you. You can barely hold yourself up, so Jungwoo keeps his arms wrapped around you as his hand moves down your body, dipping his fingers inside your pussy even while his cock is still deep inside you. His fingers scissor inside you, stretching you slowly so you’ll be able to fit both Jungwoo and Lucas inside you.

You reach for Lucas and he sits up, allows you to drag his mouth to yours. He kisses you like he’s starving for it.

“That’s enough of that.” Jungwoo says after another minute. His fingers pull out of you, and you feel them brush your face, and then Lucas is torn away from your lips. “Lay back again.”

Lucas does exactly as he’s told, and Jungwoo moves you forward then. He pulls out of you and directs you to straddle Lucas, to sit on his cock. Lucas makes a breathy noise when your hand wraps around his cock, and when you actually sit back on his erection, he moans, loud and deep. You’re glad that the den is all empty. He stretches your walls so delightfully, and for a moment you let yourself adjust to him, shift yourself, grinding against him.

Lucas bites his lip and watches you through hooded eyes, his hands go to your hips, and as wonderful as he feels, you still feel yourself looking back over your shoulder at Jungwoo. “Jungwoo, please. I need you too.” You moan.

Jungwoo flattens his hand against your back, pressing your forward.

The feel as he pushes into you beside Lucas is extraordinary, nothing you’ve ever felt before, having your pussy stretched by two cocks. Lucas grunts and groans, and you’re surprised when he actually starts whining, trying to thrust up into you as he feels the slide of Jungwoo’s cock against his inside the tightness of your heat.

You tuck your face into his throat, choosing to lick and suck hickeys around the place where Jungwoo bit him. Lucas moans and his arms wrap around you, and you whimper as Jungwoo finally bottoms out. Both of them are fully inside you, and you’ve never felt like this before. You feel somewhat like you could be ripped in two at any second, and yet you love that feeling. Ripples of pleasure are already beginning to pulsate through you.

“Please, move.” You beg.

And they do.

It takes a few moments for them to work out a pace, a pattern. There’s never a moment where you’re empty, always stuffed with at least one of their cocks, except for the lucky occasion where they’re both stretching you. Jungwoo keeps swearing, pulling your cheeks apart so he can get a better look at how you look with two cocks inside you.

And when Jungwoo collapses against you, rapidly thrusting into you, you hear the wet sound of him kissing Lucas again.

“Shit!” Lucas moans, and suddenly he jolts, pushing at both you and Jungwoo, his hands at your hips, shoving you away.

He pulls out just in time. You feel the warm spurt of his cum against your thigh, hear his moans rolling out from his chest, hear his breath shake. When you look down, he’s cumming all over his stomach, thick streaks of cum cover his belly, and still he’s cumming.

“Oh my god,” You moan, hardly able to look away. “So much cum, Lucas. What the fuck, that’s so much, so hot.”

Lucas bucks his hips up, closing his hand around his cock and jerking off while he cums. You watch, enraptured, as he doesn’t stop. Even Jungwoo has kind of stopped fucking you for a moment, just watching as Lucas orgasms beneath the pair of you, cumming more than you thought any one person could.

And then his eyes open and he sees the pair of you watching.

Jungwoo’s hips push forward, driving his cock into you, pushing you down against Lucas. Your hips are against his, and as Jungwoo thrusts into you, you’re moving against Lucas. His hand, the ridges of his knuckles, drag against your belly, and he begins making these absolutely pitiful moans. You can feel his cum smearing against your skin, can feel his cock still hard.

You groan and duck your head, capturing Lucas’s lips in a kiss. It’s sloppy, uncoordinated, as Jungwoo picks up the pace. He fucks into you hard enough that you feel like your hips and ass are going to be bruised tomorrow.

Lucas slides his tongue against yours, nips at your lips, growls when you whimper and reach out hands to steady yourself. Lucas’s cock rubs against your clit, and the combination of everything in that moment sends you reeling into your second orgasm.

You feel disgusting the moment your stomach lands in the puddle of Lucas’s cum, but your orgasm blurs the edges of everything and you feel a little bit numb, a bit high, as if you’re drifting and nothing is real, especially not your body. But you still feel the pleasure as Jungwoo continues fucking into you.

“Wait,” Lucas moans.

You feel Jungwoo pull out of you and then Lucas gently rolls you off of him. You open your eyes and witness Lucas reaching for Jungwoo’s cock, their lips together once more as he jerks Jungwoo off. Lucas’s kisses begin to drift more southern, down Jungwoo’s chest, his stomach, and finally he just sucks Jungwoo into his mouth.

Jungwoo touches Lucas’s hair, forcing Lucas all the way to the base of his cock. Lucas gags, but he takes it. His body is flushed with pleasure, and he sucks Jungwoo off happily. Your eyes drift closed, but you hear the moment Jungwoo cums, moaning and pouring praises on Lucas.

And then there’s a body against yours. You open your eyes.

Lucas is walking away toward his bathroom, Jungwoo is on his side, facing you.

“Are you alright?” He asks quietly, and he pushes some of your hair out of your face, sweeps his thumb over your cheekbone. “We weren’t too rough or anything, were we? Do you regret that?”

You shake your head and turn it to the side, placing a kiss to Jungwoo’s palm. “It was great. Did you like it?”

Jungwoo’s eyes shift toward the bathroom. “I think so.” His gaze cuts back to you. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” You scoot a little bit closer to him.

“I didn’t know Lucas felt like that about me. I’ve been a bit of a jealous prick these last few weeks, even if you didn’t notice.” He combs his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry that all of this weird stuff is happening tonight.”

“It’s alright, Jungwoo. My life has been weird since the night I met you. Vampires, werewolves, witches, ghosts. My boyfriend’s best friend being in love with him? Not weird. My boyfriend, his best friend, and me engaging in a threesome? Not weird. Not really weird, anyway.”

A shift of weight on the mattress behind you alerts you to Lucas’s return. “I’m glad you feel that way. I’m the one who should be sorry, spilling all that stuff earlier. But I’m not sorry. Mostly because of what just happened. Here,” He holds out a damp cloth. “You need to be cleaned up.”

You roll onto your back and Lucas gently wipes at his cum that’s drying on your skin. Jungwoo keeps distractingly touching you while Lucas does this. Your boyfriend’s fingers trace circles lightly around your nipples. You feel his fangs briefly scrape against your shoulder, but these are simply affectionate touches, not anything meant to start up another round of sex.

Lucas takes the cloth back to the bathroom, and when he returns, slipping into bed behind you, he asks, “You’re staying tonight, aren’t you?”

Jungwoo nods. “We promised we’d spend New Year’s Eve with you, didn’t we?” He tilts his head toward the time projected on the wall. “We still have a few minutes left.”

The seconds tick by and you feel sleepiness tugging at your eyelids, brought on by all the stresses and pleasures of tonight.

“Happy New Year.” You sigh against his lips, slinging your leg over his hips. “That’s exactly the way I wanted the year to begin.”

Lucas hums a happy noise behind you and brushes his lips between your shoulder blades, his hand sneaking over your waist to splay his fingers over Jungwoo’s stomach. “Happy New Year.”

Jungwoo’s wish of happiness is a quiet murmur, lost as you finally let sleep take you over.

Sunlight burns through the room when you wake. Your body aches, your mouth feels dry, but you feel nice and warm with the sunlight spilling across the sheets.

At some point in the night, Lucas moved across the bed, now curled up on Jungwoo’s other side. He’s still deeply asleep, and Jungwoo looks as if he is as well, but when you shift, his eyes flash open.

“Doesn’t the sunlight feel amazing?” He asks, running a hand through the beams of light. The ring on his hand glints, and you grab his hand, pulling it down to your mouth so you can kiss that ring. His fingers stroke backwards over your skin. “I still think nothing feels better than you soaked in sunlight, so warm and beautiful.”

You smile and hold his hand against your face, lips brushing against his palm.

You stay like that for a while, enjoying the gentle heat of the morning sun, the quiet of Lucas’s room, the easy and relaxed mood.

But that all ends with the door to the room bursts open, and you startle, dropping Jungwoo’s hand. Lucas sits bolt upright. Kun stands in the doorway, and when his eyes land on the three of you, still naked, tangled in Lucas’s sheets, his face flushes.

There’s a set of three scratches stretching down his throat, a bruise on his forehead. You half-expect an explanation for that, but instead all Kun says is, “There’s breakfast in the kitchen.”

You hear him mutter an “oh my god” as he turns and walks away.

Both of the boys laugh a little, but you slip from bed and hurry over to the bathroom. You take care of several things--peeing, trying to tame your hair, dressing in your clothes from the night before which are still discarded on the floor.

Jungwoo is admiring the hickeys on Lucas’s throat when you come back out from the bathroom, both of them are dressed as well, and together you all head down to the kitchen.

The den is more crowded and noisy now than it was the night before. The whole pack is in the kitchen, fighting over the food Kun made, but when the three of you walk into the kitchen an awkward feeling passes through the room.

Finally, Jaehyun speaks up, “When you said you were staying behind while we all went and kicked the asses of those mutts out of our city so you could nurse Jungwoo back to health, we didn’t realize that you had a magic, healing dick.”

Lucas growls and playfully attacks Jaehyun. Several of the others jump in, and Jungwoo holds you back as the werewolves wrestle around the kitchen. They stop when Kun calls for order, and they pick their spots around the food again, filling their plates or just picking at the dishes. You sit on Jungwoo’s lap beside Lucas, and after that breakfast passes as it normally might when you’re dining with a pack of werewolves and your vampire boyfriend.

Pleasantly, as if there’s an eternity of mornings just like this one stretching out in front of you.

a/n: this has been a long time coming since the first part is exactly two months old. I’m not sure if there’s going to be a third part, because I feel like most things I wanted this to be about were all resolved in this part, but there is still one little thing I wanted to happen, so a third part might happen but no promises. Anyway, if you’ve read this entire monstrosity, I hope you enjoyed it. I would love feedback because it’s what makes me thrive, so please like/reblog/comment