#but it’s worth it to not spend three hours waiting on beans

[jeezypetes]

Did you guys know there’s a secret to cooking dry beans that doesn’t take 10000 hours?? Its a pressure cooker. Dry beans to perfectly cooked in maybe half an hour

[themuffin2649]

⛔️ Deleted ⛔️

Leon’s Perfect day with MC.

—————

Schoolwork: Check ✅

Backpack: Check ✅

Jacket: Check ✅

Pepper Spray: Check ✅ (unfortunately)

“Big Bro, we’re gonna be late again!”

“Sorry little bro, I’m coming!”

I come out of my room, grabbing a slice of bread to eat on the way to school. I don’t want to take another bite of the slop they’re serving today, so this will have to do.

“What’s going on with you? You’ve never been this consistently late!”

Oh shit, he’s catching onto me!

“I… uhh… had a nightmare… again….”

“Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor, or stay home?

“It’s fine little bro, I promise it won’t happen again.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Let’s go!”

We locked the door to our apartment and head out, meeting up with Leon. As usual, he’s all sunshine and happiness as soon as he sees me.

“Good morning! Sleep well?”

“My brother had another night-mmm!”

“Nothing, it’s fine!” I say, covering my brother’s mouth with my hand.

It’s not fine, I just don’t want Leon to force me to stay home, making me make up 6 hours worth of missed schoolwork on top of the homework.

“Ok…?”

“Anyways, we’re gonna be late to catch the train, we should hurry!”

All three of us started hurrying over to the train station, rushing past pedestrians, and barely slipping into the train before the doors closed. Thank goodness that my little brother’s here, cause he knows how to talk with Leon better than I do—

“Hey! Your brother and I were wondering if we could go to the mall later today, he heard from his friend that a new Mochi Donut place just opened up and…”

Oh no, he’s getting flustered, please don’t be a date, Please don’t be a Date!

“Umm, if we could…”

“If we could hang out together after school if you’re not busy.” My little brother said, helping Leon out.

“Oh! I-I guess so…”

“Great!” Leon said, beaming as if he’d just won the Yandere lottery.

Aww, he looks so cute… maybe I do want a date. Wait! Would that put me in danger of Him?

By the time the train arrived near our school, Leon was still as happy as ever. However, I was still nervous to go to school, knowing who awaited me there.

“Would you look at that, we got lucky! There’s still food left!”

“Oh… goody…”

Despite getting as little food as possible, I didn’t eat an atom of it. Instead, I slid my tray over to Leon, who happily accepted more food.

As I looked around the breakfast area and waiting, I noticed something strange, or rather, I noticed a lack of something. It was too peaceful.

Is he late to school today?

I didn’t want to disturb Leon, who was enjoying himself, with the very mention of Vincent, so I turned to my brother.

“Hey, little bro, do you know where Vincent is today.” I asked in a whisper.

Despite him whispering back, the response felt louder than it should.

“Who’s Vincent?”

“……You’re joking, right?!”

From my Brother’s expression, I could tell that he was serious.

“You know, Vincent? Goes to our school, super popular, has too much money to spend?”

“Umm, yeah, I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“What are you two taking about?” Leon said, looking over at us.

Before I could even move my hand to cover his mouth, he spilled the beans.

“My brother is wondering about this guy named Vincent who’s apparently super rich.”

And just like that, My fate was sealed as I watched the happiness drain from Leon’s face.

The Brother who was once my savior was now going to be my downfall. I closed my eyes in horror of the skull breaking punch that was going to hit me. If I was going to die, I didn’t want to watch.

“Who?”

I opened my eyes to see that Leon’s supposed anger was instead confusion. Which was very concerning itself because this is the one person who should know Vincent. He Hates Him!

“Oh, umm… it’s nothing!” I said, trying to mask my worry.

“Ok?” My brother said, as we went back to eating.

Surpringly, Leon shrugged it off and went back to eat as well. Not a single hint of anger on him.

What the Hell is going on?!

As I walked into class, I noticed how this is the closest Vincent and I share a class today (a lesson learnt when he immediatly ambushed me after this class, since he was just one classroom away)

Curiously, I went over to the classroom nextdoor he was in before the bell rung to as some classmates about it. I walked up to a boy and tapped on his shoulder, wondering if he shared the same Vincent-Specific-Amnesia Leon and my Brother shared.

“Uhh, hello? Do you know where your classmate Vincent is?”

“Oh, Vincent!? He’s coming. He’s usually fashionably late, pretty typical of him.”

Oh thank goodness this is just a prank, wait no, I shouldn’t be happy about that, that means Leon’s pissed at me!

“There you are Vincent! This guy here was wondering where you were?”

When I looked at him, but it was just another blue shadow.

“You need anything?”

Right, other people can be named Vincent too… 😬

“I, uhh…”

Shoot! What do I say?! In fact, why did I even ask about his presence?! I should have know that if he knew I was looking for him, it was only going to boost his ego (and his clinginess)

“Uhh, hello?”

Vincent then snapped his fingers over my face, grabbing back my attention.

“Oh! Sorry! I needed you for an eraser!”

Way to fuck that up me, now they’re gonna think I’m an idiot, or messing with them.

“Oh! You’ve noticed my eraser collection! Well, I can give you the pink one for free, or you can choose a custom one for 5 cents!” He said as he pulled out a pouch of erasers and showed them to me.

Wait, that worked?!

“I’ll have the pink one, thank you!” I said, taking the eraser he gave me and hurrying back to my classroom.

That was close. I think that was a warning from the Universe to stop asking about Vincent.

Before I knew it, the school bell rung to dismiss the class for lunch. Looking around the halls, I didn’t see a single red hair from the crowd.

Wait, no! I should stop worrying about him! He’s the guy trying to keep me in his basement forever!

I rushed into the lunch room to get my mind off him. Before I entered, I saw Leon approach Vincent, the blue shadow of course, and I ducked out of sight in guilt.

Oh no, this guy’s gonna die because I got worried about Vincent! Shit! What do I do?!

“Hey, your name is Vincent, right?”

“Yeah, and you must be…”

“Leon.”

“Ah, Leon! I knew I recognized you somewhere! The basketball team, right?”

“Yes! Anyways, earlier today, my friend was asking me where you were? At first I didn’t remember anybody named Vincent, then I remembered you. Did you have anything to do with that?” He said, trying to mask his suspicious tone towards Vincent.

“Was your friend a guy with dark hair and pink pants? Cause he talked to my friend earlier today asking where I was too.”

“Yes! Do you happens to know why he did that?” He said, glaring down at him.

“He told me that he needed an eraser. It’s amazing that he remembered my collection.” He said, pulling out the same large pouch full of erasers from earlier.

And with that response, all traces of jealously and suspicion were immediatly erased (pun intended).

“Oh, neat!”

“In fact, you want to see it? I have some specials from conventions I’ve collected over the years! Spares of course, can’t give away the really important ones!”

“So that’s why he though you were super rich.”

“What?”

“Nevermind, I think I like the pink one best. How much does it cost?”

“Oh, those ones are free, I have like a million back at home. Your friend actually wanted one of those as well.”

“Oh! I’ll take one!”

“Pleasure doing business with you!”

“But I didn’t give you a cent!” He said, with a laugh.

“But you bought me extra storage.”

“I guess I did!”

They laugh and the two parted ways on a good note before Leon noticed me.

“Oh, hey! There you are!”

“Oh, hey! I saw you were talking to Vincent.”

“Yeah, and guess what. We have matching erasers!” He said, showing me his pink eraser with half a heart in the middle.

I took mine out and looked at it, was also the same, but the half heart was on the opposite side of Leon’s.

“Oh! It’s like they complete each other!” He said, hiding a blush.

“Oh, they do.”

The rest of the lunch period was normal, but now that it’s been confirmed that Vincent wouldn’t be a bother to me, I relaxed a bit.

It was after school, and we were taking the train to the Donut place in the mall. I let Leon hold my hand on the way there, his hand was warm, yet gentle. And I could feel his joy radiating from him. To be honest, I think it’s starting to rub off on me too, because we started swinging our arms back and forth.

Maybe I should relax, if fact, this is a good thing! Since Vincent won’t be a problem anymore, supernatural reason or not, that means he can focus on Leon’s route from now on!

“Here we are!” Leon said, pointing at the donut place.

“Would you look at that, the line’s not that long!”

We joined the line and looked at the menu, there were so many options! It was so difficult to choose.

“Oh my… there’s just too many flavors and toppings to choose from. Not to mention the drinks!”

“I think they have a couples menu for Valentine’s Day, that sounds cute.”

“Yeah, it does!”

When we get up to the counter, my brother ordered two Strawberry donuts, while Leon and I got the Valentines Special.

“You two are very lucky, it’s the last one in stock for today!” The receptionist said, giving us a box.

When we went to sit down and open it, it was no wonder why it was so popular.

There, pink hearts decorated the pink and white frosting of the donuts, along with sprinkles. They were also an even amount of donuts, and a boba with a dual straw for two to drink one drink.

Leon took the drink and stabbed the straw in the dead center, before turning to me.

“Let’s dig in!”

Looking at the food made my stomach rumble from missing out on lunch.

“Do you want one of my donuts? You sound hungry.”

“No, it wouldn’t be fair, it’s an even amount for a reason.”

“I insist, you need it more than me.”

We started eating our donuts, enjoying the berry and rose flavoring on our tongues. Because of my hunger, it tasted heavenly, and I didn’t realize how messy of an eater I was until I heard Leon and my brother chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“You have icing on your mouth and it looks like a moustashe!” He said, chuckling. I reached for my phone, only to realize that my hands were dirty from the icing as well.

“Hey Leon, can you show me it through your phone? My hands are dirty.”

“Sure!” He said, pulling out his camera to show me for a moment before turning it the other way.

He was right, there was an icing moustache on me. I licked it off with my tongue and sucked the icing off my fingers.

“Wow! That was amazing! I feel much better already!”

“I’m glad you like it! I knew it was the right choice!”

“Anyways, I wonder what the drink is like.”

We both went to put our mouths on the straws, only to boop noses.

“Oh, sorry!” “Sorry Leon!”

We both looked at each other awkwardly before doing back to drinking, this time being careful not to bump into each other.

“Mmm, delicious!” He said, while drinking.

I played with the popping boba in my mouth, and looked back at him. He was still a bit flustered from bumping noses.

“Oh, I finished the drink already… do you want the leftover popping boba?”

“Sure! Thanks Leon!”

“Yeah, and thank you for coming with me today! It was fun!”

“I had fun, I think we should come back again?”

“Y-You want to do this again?!”

“Yeah, there are so many flavors we can try out, and this is a pretty good restaurant.”

After I finished the boba, we spent some time window shopping before taking the train back home.

“See you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow Leon, Goodnight.”

I couldn’t help but smile, without the craziness and Vincent, this was actually pretty nice. I could forget I’m in a world full of crazy Yanderes as I watch him skip off into the distance. It wasn’t even Valentine’s Day yet!

My brother and I went inside and prepared to go to bed.

“Good night Big Bro.” He said before heading to his room.

“Goodnight.”

As I went into my room, I couldn’t help but feel both joy and fear.

Despite Vincent’s absence making my life so much easier, I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to him. I hypothesized that Leon killed him, but then why wasn’t he mad when I questioned where he was? In fact, why did he and my brother completely forget who he was?

I turned on the computer and Googled Vincent’s name in case there was a murder, but no trace of his exsistence was anywhere, weird. I looked up the name of his family’s company. When I searched up “family” on the company website, my eyes widened in horror.

There was no trace of Vincent in his entire family lineage.

—————

Note: Vincent got Thanos Snapped lmao! But by who and Why?

[nottodayjjk]

dirty little secret ~ knj

❆ summary: one fateful night in december, you come to acquire santa's naughty or nice list by accident. together with your neighbour and best friend namjoon you uncover the dirty secrets of your neighbours plunging everything into chaos. bringing mischief about is all fun games, until your own little secret appears on the naughty and nice list.

❆ pairing: namjoon x female reader (minor appearance of other idols)

❆ word count: 10,4k

❆ genre: humor, romance, fluff, smut

❆ fic warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), language

❆ rating: 18+

❆ notes from the author: this fic is part of a hoeliday well spent from the christmas in july collab hosted by @kookdiaries​, @kithtaehyung​ and @xiaokoo​ and is loosely based on the hallmark channel-movie ‘naughty or nice’ (2012). i had a lot of fun writing this! big thank you again to @kookdiaries for creating this incredible banner and for @minigum for being the most wonderful beta reader <3

❆ tag list: @shameless-army​​ @writtenwhalien​​ @shrimpmsg​​ @moonchild1​

In the dark of the night, snow was falling softly and covered the street in peaceful quietness. Christmas decorations and flickering candles adorned the lit windows and lights were beautifully draped around snow-covered bushes. Sparkling reindeers pulled Santa’s carriage and inflated snowmen waved happily at cars driving by. Christmas time had just begun.

A few lamps illuminated the street with their yellow dimmed light as a dark, giant shadow slipped past. Quiet footsteps could be heard in the stillness of the cold winter night, wading through ankle-deep snow in heavy black boots. They were on their way to the sturdy apartment building on the left side of the desolate street, determined to fulfil their quest. They took another look around before they slipped through the glass door, the red fabric of their clothes gleamed under the flickering light of the broken lamp of the entrance lobby. Then, the night was quiet again.

You had been out with your best friend and next-door neighbour Namjoon whom you knew a few years by now. From the first day you had set foot in the small apartment building, he had been a helping hand, mainly through helping you carry a myriad of small boxes and things all the way up to the 6th floor where the both of you lived. The elevator had, of course, been out of order on that day. But he hadn’t complained at all! And because he had gone way out of his way even though he had only met you that same day, you had invited him to a take-away pizza and a bottle of cheap wine from the supermarket right around the corner. You had not expected your first night in your new home to be like this, to be so much fun. He had stayed until the morning, the two of you talking about anything and everything until the birds had chirped good morning outside. And the bond between the two of you had only grown from there on out.

You had visited a local Christmas market together, drinking a whole lot of eggnog and relishing in the joyful spirit of Christmas. You had never been someone to celebrate Christmas before you had met Namjoon. In your first year, he had basically dragged you to the market and filled you up with all kinds of different Christmassy drinks and snacks, bought you several gingerbread hearts, and even got you to ride one of the many attractions with him. The next day had been awful, the hot chocolate with rum had come out the same way that it had gone in. Still, it had been the most joyous Christmas time you had ever had.

Ever since then, he always did something new with you every Christmas. Buying a tree, seeing a Santa Claus show in the city centre, or writing letters with long wish lists to Santa. But it had never come down to actually spending Christmas eve and morning together, to your disappointment. He usually drove to his parents, a three-hour ride from where you lived, leaving you on your own to sulk in loneliness until he came back for New Year’s Eve.

Well, this year he had bugged you until you had agreed to go décor shopping for your apartment with him. It had made him sad to see your living space so empty during a cheery time like this. He got you all the basic things: fairy lights, cute little snowmen that had the friendliest smiles, a whole lot of candlesticks with red candles that smelled like gingerbread and cinnamon, hell, even glitter balls and bows for the small tree he also had gotten you.

After putting all the decorations up and “to celebrate your joyful shopping spree”, as Namjoon had called it, he had once again persuaded you to go to the Christmas market, letting no feeble excuses count. He had been in too good of a mood anyway for you to turn him down. You found it cute when he was all excited and giddy like this.

He had ordered eggnog after eggnog. His infectious enthusiasm had only gone up, not down a tad as you had hoped. But after the third eggnog, you hadn’t minded anymore anyway. Namjoon had entertained you all through the evening, making you laugh and enjoy yourself after a long week of studying and learning. Even though it had just snowed the other day, the eggnog had held you warm through and through, your cheeks feeling hot. Maybe it had also been a little bit because of Namjoon and how he had scooted closer and closer to you throughout the evening, ‘to keep each other warm’ as he had stated.

You had stayed until the booth had closed and the owner had hushed you to finally head home. Given both of your inebriated states, getting home had taken twice as long as it did when you’d left from home to go out.

As you had reached the door, waving a last goodbye to Namjoon who had stumbled clumsily into his own apartment, it had taken you a few minutes until you finally had gotten the key into the hole. You hadn’t even bothered to brush your teeth, only changing into comfy pyjamas – which had been quite the task – and slipping into bed. Dreamland hadn’t waited long to come, and you had fallen sound asleep.

So, to no one’s surprise, you didn’t hear when soft but heavy footsteps approached your apartment in the middle of the night. Didn’t spot the broad shadow that could be seen through the small gap under your door where the light fell in. Didn’t notice when a thick package wrapped with packing paper was pushed through the letter slot of your apartment door.

The package fell to the ground with a gentle thud. The towering figure hummed a merry tune before taking off again. You only turned around in your sleep, mumbling, “No more eggnog, Namjoon”, before it was quiet once more.

The rest of the night went uneventfully, and the package laid peacefully on your door mat until morning came.

A pounding headache. That was what had woken you up. The eggnog hadn’t been a good idea from the start, and you had told Namjoon several times. But even though he had listened to you, he had ignored your reasonable request. He hadn’t really given you a choice to begin with. And you hadn’t wanted to complain. At least he had paid and that was all that had been needed to convince you.

While Namjoon was already producing his own music, you were still a university student majoring in Art. You got by fine with the money your parents sent you and what you earned from your part-time job at the library, but you were still glad for every penny you could keep and save for after university. You dreamed of opening your own business and, heck, you needed a lot of money for that.

When Namjoon had heard of your ideas, he had been in immediately, supporting you in every way possible. Even if it meant paying for your drinks or your museum visits on the weekend. As long as he got to spend time with you, it was worth all his money.

You desperately grabbled for the nightstand. Luckily, you had prepared pain meds and water in advance, even a small piece of toast. Your nights out with Namjoon usually ended like this, so you are accustomed to it.

Sitting up a little, you popped the pills into your mouth first before chucking the water into your throat as if your life depended on it. Once you’d dealt with that, you reached towards the toast, munching on it until it was no more.

You felt better immediately as the medicine worked its way through your system and the toast soaked up the remaining alcohol in your stomach. Slowly the turns in your stomach lessened and until there was one thing overtaking your needs. It was time for coffee.

Slowly, you got up, swaying a little back onto the bed but overall, it was not as bad as you’d had expected. Sure, the eggnog had made your stomach a little weak, but you felt certain it could handle the coffee. Otherwise, you couldn’t make it through the day. Coffee was vital right now.

On the way out of your bedroom, you snatched your long silk gown, putting it on. You headed straight to the coffee machine, pushing the little blinking button so it started grinding the black beans. The soft smell of freshly ground coffee filled the air as you grabbed a big mug from the sink. You sighed and leaned one hip on the counter.

As you waited for the coffee you looked around and your gaze fell onto an exceptionally cheery snowman on your coffee table. You had never been keen on Christmas decorations. They were too bright, too colourful, and too cheesy.

Well, jokes on you. All the things the two of you had bought, the fairy lights, red candles, a few reindeers and snowmen, and some green fir branches, were now spread around your apartment, the small tree chilling next to your TV in the corner. It was hard to say ‘No’ to Namjoon’s puppy eyes. He usually got his way with you.

It had also been his idea to not only put the lights on the curtain rods but to wind them around them, too. 

He had held you safely by your waist as you had stood on the ladder to reach up there. His long, slender hands had felt so warm through your clothes that your heart had stuttered for a second and you had gotten the job done rather quickly to get away from this weird feeling that had erupted in your chest. Because you couldn’t admit it to yourself. You couldn’t admit that Namjoon had become more than a best friend to you over the last few years.

But you had to confess; the lights were very very pretty. You even thought about keeping them up there after Christmas. They brought a soft glow around the room that made it feel unbelievably cosy and romantic.

As you absentmindedly grabbed for your finished cup of coffee you couldn’t help but remember the way Namjoon’s skin had glowed in these lights. How mesmerizing he had looked. How hard you had had to keep yourself from putting a hand up to one of his cheeks and caressing his soft skin.

You lost yourself in the memory for a second before you noticed something very peculiar from the corner of your eye. Something very square and brown. It was a package. On your doormat. ‘What in god’s name,’ you thought to yourself as you eyed it in curious suspicion. The post usually never came that early. Especially not on a Saturday. And why had no one rang the bell? It was odd, to say the least.

You left your coffee on the counter, steam still rising in puffy clouds from the cup. Cautiously, you made your way over to the mysterious package that read your full address, but no sender. It was quite big, now that you had gotten closer, and it had you wondering how it had fit through the narrow letter slot. Maybe Namjoon was pulling a prank on you?

Before you picked up the package, you opened the door and checked the hallway, frantically looking left and right. But no one was there, not even Namjoon to cheekily grin at you.

Closing the door behind you, you took the brown package and laid it down on the counter next to your coffee. You eyed it once more while taking a long sip from the beverage. Should you open it? What if there was something… bad or deadly inside? You had heard of such packages before on the news. People sent them to get revenge on ex-partners or enemies. Well, you had no such things… and Namjoon seemed to be out of the picture as well.

After some more staring, curiosity finally got the best of you, and you carefully ripped open the brown packing paper. It revealed a heavy book that was edged in red velvety fabric that had golden ornaments engraved. Imprinted on it was the lettering “Naughty or Nice”. Wait- what?!

Snorting laughter erupted from your chest. This had to be a prank, right? ‘Namjoon’s good,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Keeps hiding until I actually look at the book. Not a very good prank, but alright…’

As you were about to open it, you could hear a key jingling in front of your door and some mumbled curses. ‘Speaking of the devil.’ Namjoon strode through the door in his pyjama and a long gown, his hair looking dishevelled and eyes still half-closed. He had your spare keys which gave him the possibility to let himself in whenever and you didn’t mind. At this point, it had become commonplace.

You watched with an amused grin as he immediately scuffed over to the coffee machine, grabbing another cup from the sink, and turning it on once more. He inhaled the smell just like you did before he turned around to face you.

“Morning, Y/N,” he hummed, and a lop-sided grin adorned his lips. Hell, how did this sleepy look fit him so well? “How is your stomach?”

You crossed your arms and leant back on the counter. “Better than I thought. You?”

“Same, same. I just really craved your coffee. This machine is a literal angel!” He turned back around to grab his coffee and take a big gulp before letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Very funny, by the way.” You pointed at the book behind you, still laying unopened on your counter. “You never have Christmas-pranked me before so that’s a first. But it isn’t one of your best ideas, if I can be honest with you.”

There was a moment of silence. You had expected him to laugh at you or make a clever remark about how he had gotten you to open it. But… nothing. He just blankly stared at you. “What?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Making this book look like Santa’s Naughty or Nice list? Very funny, Namjoon, very funny!” You chuckled a little at him pretending not to know what you were talking about.

He spied over your shoulder, reading the lettering. And shook his head. “Y/N. I… didn’t prank you. This–“ He pointed to the book. “–is nothing I came up with. Though I must say, I think it’s a pretty good idea!” He snickered a little and took another sip of his coffee.

“But–“ You turned around to the book. “–who sent it to me then? I don’t know who else would try and prank me…” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, taking another look at the packing paper. Still nothing but your address.

“Have you opened it yet?”

“No, I was just about to when you came through the door.” You put a hand on the binding. The velvet fabric felt soft under your fingertips and the golden lettering glittered in the glim of the fairy lights. It looked so… real.

Carefully, you opened it, coming face to face with a blank page. Maybe the others? You browsed to the next page. And the next. And the next. But they were all blank, not even a tiny little bit of ink to be seen. ‘Weird…’

Skimming through the rest of the book, you looked for anything peculiar. Nothing. “It’s empty,” you told Namjoon, while going back to the first page and leaving it open.

You heard shuffling on the floor and suddenly Namjoon leaned over your shoulder to look at the book. He stretched out his hand to skim through it as well. He was so close. You could feel the heat radiating off his body and his breath on your neck as he let out a confused huff.

When he stepped back from you after inspecting the book, you wished him back closer behind you. ‘Stop that,’ you scolded yourself in your head. ‘He is your best friend!’

“Well, it actually looks like someone pulled a prank on you,” Namjoon stated while making himself another cup of coffee. He usually runs on three. On a good day. That you knew his coffee consumption so well said a lot about how regularly he came over in the morning to use your coffee machine.

“Apparently…”

Loud bass suddenly disrupted the morning, booming through the wall to your left. ‘No, not again!’ It was your other neighbour… Jungkook. He kept it down on most days. But he always pulled this on a Saturday morning, and you were sure he was doing it on purpose just to annoy you. You had banged on the wall a few times before. On some days he even turned the music down after your knocking complaint. But today, it was on a whole other level. As if he knew you had been out late and had a mild hangover.

“Ugh, I’ll swear I’ll punch him some day,” you mumbled while pinching your eyebrows in frustration.

Namjoon knew you weren’t kidding. Jungkook had been getting on your nerves ever since he had moved in next door. Before him, there lived a nice and quiet lady who occasionally baked chocolate cookies for the two of you and had always put something nice in front of your door during Christmas time. Now, there was Jungkook. Student, party animal, and the type to listen to music so loud you couldn’t hear your own thoughts.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Namjoon said. “But I also don’t want to have to visit you in prison during Christmas time.” He chuckled lightly, running a hand through his hair before chucking down his coffee.

Suddenly, you heard a rustling noise of paper coming from the counter. The book! It was turning its pages on its own. “Holy-“

You stepped in front of the counter, Namjoon following closely, eyes as wide as the moon. “How is that possible?” he whispered while peering over your shoulder again.

A golden light bloomed from the Naughty or Nice book and the two of you just stared at in great awe as sparkles danced around the room. “I’m usually not one to believe in magic,” Namjoon muttered under his breath. “But this is a whole new thing…”

The turning stopped and the pages gently dropped down. Beautiful, curved letters emerged, writing your neighbour’s name. They shone golden in the light. “What is happening?” you hissed while intently watching the book. Namjoon just shrugged his shoulders, speechless.

 Jeon Jungkook: always leaves his trash in front of Mrs. Kim’s apartment door

Underneath was a moving picture, showing Jungkook looking around frantically before putting his trash bag on Mrs. Kim’s doormat and a more detailed description of what was going on. You gasped out in disbelief. “Mrs. Kim is always so nice! How dare he!?”

Namjoon let out an angry huff. “You’ve got a good point but-“ His forehead crinkled in confusion and scepticism. “How does it do that?”

You shrugged, turning the page to see if it had a built-in display. But… there was nothing. It was just a normal page like any other. You turned back to the picture of Jungkook where he had gotten caught in the act. By whom? You didn’t know, could only guess… But no, this was not possible. Santa didn’t exist. But… an idea came to your head.

“Hmm, let’s put this to a test,” you said as the pounding bass continued to boom through the wall. You left the book open, the image of Jungkook engraved in your head, as you turned on your heels and made your way over to the door.

“You actually gonna go over there?” Namjoon trailed behind you, not sure if this was the right thing to do. You definitely had a reason to be angry at Jungkook. But what if this was all just a scam? Well, it felt far too real for that, but Namjoon wasn’t yet ready to call his beliefs into question. This was insane.

You nodded and opened the door. “He has been getting on my nerves for a few weeks now. It’s time to put this to a stop.” You gave him one last determined book before stepping out into the hallway.

Namjoon shook his head in amusement at your vendetta and stopped at your doorstep, leaning against the frame watching you. This was your fight. He wouldn’t get between the frontlines. He knew your anger all too well.

You rapped viciously on the door; quite sure Jungkook wouldn’t hear any of it. And of course, the door didn’t open and the music blared on. So, you resorted to a more effective method. You pressed the button of the bell and held it down. ‘I will have you answer your door even if it takes the whole freaking day.’

It took a few seconds, but you heard the music fading and someone swearing behind the door. It worked. A malicious smirk adorned your lips. You weren’t even nervous, more excited to try the spicy information you had acquired about him. The keys jingled in the keyhole and an annoyed face appeared in the ajar door. “What is it?”

You crossed your arms and put on your most intimidating look. The secret from the book gave you a hell of a confident boost. “Jungkook,” you started, “I’ve told you many many times to quiet it down.”

He rolled his eyes and huffed. “I know. I’m sorry but-“

You cut him off immediately. “No buts. You’re either gonna tone it down from now on or…”

“Or what? You’re trying to threaten me?” He laughed and threw his head back. “That’s new. Well, you’ve got nothing on me, Y/N.”

You squinted your eyes at him, and a smile grew on your face. “You sure?”

Jungkook leaned against the door frame while looking bored. The arrogant look on his face gave you the rest of the encouragement you needed. “Well,” you swirled one of your hair strands around your finger, “I know you’re putting your trash bags on Mrs. Kim’s doormat, so you don’t have to take it out yourself…”

It took a moment for Jungkook to realise what you just said. But when he finally did, his jaw almost dropped down to his knees. “How-“

“The poor woman. I think she deserves to know…” You turned around, feeling the power pulsating in your hands. It was electrifying! You slowly strode over to your apartment.

“Y/N!” Jungkook called out after you, desperation apparent in his voice. “I-“ He dropped his head in defeat, all pride and arrogance had left his body. “If you don’t tell her, I promise I’m gonna tone it down from now on,” he caved in.

“You better,” you just answered and walked away, leaving a speechless Jungkook by his door.

Namjoon snickered as you entered your apartment again, finding the whole situation very amusing. “Have you seen his face? He was so stunned!” Both of you burst out into a fit of laughter, needing a few seconds to calm yourselves down again.

You went back to the still open book. “So it tells the truth…” you stated while tracing the letters with your fingers when they suddenly started to disappear. “Oh! They’re vanishing!”

“Probably because you called him out on that,” Namjoon assumed, looking at the now empty page and then at you. “You know what that means… right?”

You turned it over in your head for a few seconds before you answered Namjoon’s gaze with a mischievous smile. “Let’s discover some secrets this Christmas!”

And so, the two of you went on to discover the hidden secrets and misdeeds of all of your neighbours. The book was never wrong. Not when it told you that Mrs. Kim had a secret fling with Mr. Sung from floor 5 and they were acting like giddy teenagers, that Mrs. Lee let her dog pee on Mrs. Park’s door mat once in a while because they couldn’t stand each other, that Soonyoung from second floor liked to bathe in pure milk occasionally, that Yeji from first floor stole Mr. Chew’s newspaper now and then because he was rude to basically everyone in the building, that Taehyung from fourth floor had sang Christmas carols in the middle of the night for Yeji because he had been out to drink, and many many more.

Some of them you used for your amusement, but most of them were kept between the both of you. You felt closer to Namjoon than ever before. Sharing and keeping secrets about your neighbours bound you together. And Christmas time was a blast, for the both of you! You went out once in a while to the Christmas market again but usually you kept your noses in the Naughty or Nice book, awaiting the next secret to appear. So, Christmas time went by in a happy blur.

After coming home from another one of your merry adventures, you began to realise that this might all be over soon. Actually, Christmas evening was tomorrow already and Namjoon would probably be off to his parents. You didn’t want to stop discovering all these secrets with Namjoon. You had spent a lot of time together; it had been so much fun. And you liked being around him, you knew that. You weren’t ready to admit it, but you had fallen in love with him even more by now. Even after all these years, his way of living and his wisdom still amazed you to no end.

Your thoughts were suddenly disrupted by Namjoon as the both of you reached your apartment door. “Y/N?”

“Yes,” you answered, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. Namjoon stood in front of you, nervously wrenching his hands. You had never seen him skittish before. Had something happened?

He took a deep breath before he began to speak. “I was… wondering if you wanted to spent Christmas together?” Namjoon nervously scratched his head. “I-“ he stumbled over his own words for a moment. “I don’t want you to be alone for Christmas. And my parents won’t be at home anyway. So, I was wondering- I mean-“ He rambled on and gestured wildly between the both of you.

To stop him, you gently put your hand on his arm. “Yes,” you answered simply and smiled at him happily, not able to contain your excitement at his request. Your heart was beating in your chest. Spending Christmas with Namjoon was a dream come true.

“I... would love to.” You rubbed your arm awkwardly while not being able to meet his eyes. You were sure he would be able to read your confused feelings for him right there.

He let out a small huff of relief. “Good, good… We can go grocery shopping together tomorrow if you want. So we can pick something to eat that we both like.”

“That sounds like a great idea. Meet in the morning as usual?” you asked, fidgeting with your jacket sleeve.

Namjoon nodded. “I will cook of course. You will be my guest! Also, your cooking skills might be a little insufficient for Christmas…” Mischievousness gleamed in his eyes and you just shook your head, laughing a little.

“I think my cooking skills are fine as they are. It’s not my fault you don’t like the food that I cook!” you exclaimed and hit his shoulder playfully. “Also, your food might taste better than mine. But you’re definitely more chaotic than I am!”

“Okay, okay,” he put his hands up in defeat. “You’ve got a point. I’m still cooking though.” He took off his beanie to run a hand through his hair. He stretched his arms out, motioning for you to give him a goodbye-hug.

Your skin tingled as you obliged. His hands rested on your back as he tugged you close. “Good night, Y/N,” he whispered into your ear, eliciting a shiver running down your back. Gosh, his voice and his soft lips were hovering right next to your ear. It created images in your head you shouldn’t be thinking about in the proximity of your best friend, but you couldn’t help yourself.

You swallowed a big lump in your throat. “Good night to you too,” you whispered back with a hoarse voice, heart still fluttering. He could hear the rapid beating for sure.

Both of you stayed in the hug longer than necessary, thinking about what would become of your adventures once Christmas was over. You were sure the book would disappear, that its owner would come to get it.

You sighed before stepping away from Namjoon, giving him a small smile before pulling out your keys. He went over to his door, a jingling noise reaching your ears. You looked over your shoulder before entering your apartment.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” Namjoon called over in a hushed voice before he disappeared behind his own door. Little did you and he know what effect these last few words would have on you…

Wanton sounds escaped your mouth as your hands grasped fiercely for your sheets. Waves of pleasure rolled through your body as you felt a desperate mouth latching onto your clit, tongue poking out to gratify your little bundle of nerves. Your eyes rolled back into your head. It felt… overwhelming.

You couldn’t hold in a lewd moan as the tongue worked magic on you. “Please–“ You couldn’t form a whole sentence without being interrupted by your own moans.

You felt a hand softly caressing your thigh. “Y/N,” a familiar voice reached your ear, making you perk up. Was this… real? You lifted yourself on your elbows to see if you were right with your guess.

Looking up from between your legs was a tousled Namjoon, cheeks red and lips glistening in the light of your fairy lights. He looked like an angel with his skin glowing golden and his hair illuminated.

It felt like a dream come true…

It wasn’t the morning light waking you up nor the loud traffic noise from the street in front of your apartment building. No. What woke you up was the growing wetness between your legs. Your heart beat loudly in your chest, a light film of sweat covered your forehead. Well, that had been… hot.

You had had dreams of Namjoon before. Funny ones, sad ones, even ones where the two of you had been dating. But with things like this, you had only been daydreaming about thus far. It had you all riled up, a little embarrassed, but first and foremost horny.

His head between your legs and his tongue on your clit had felt so real. Oh, what you’d give to actually get to feel that. But you were sure that it would remain something that stayed in your daydreams, when you had to release some friction behind your bedroom doors.

You sighed, pushing the thick blanket to the side. You had to take care of the mess between your legs and there was only one place that always helped: the shower. You had to get this dream out of your head before Namjoon would come over. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to look into his eyes without thinking of the sinful scene that repeated itself again and again in your head.

‘Let’s get this over with,’ you pushed yourself to get out of bed and into the shower. As if you didn’t enjoy this…

As you sat down by the book again with a big cup of fresh coffee, you were actually wondering if you’d ever appear on the list. Or Namjoon. And which secret of yours it would be. So far, it hadn’t spilled any of yours. But it would be merely a matter of time until the pages would reveal what you had kept from one another. Even though there were barely any secrets between the two of you. Only this… this was kind of a major one.

Absent-mindedly, you browsed through the book again. What secret would reveal itself today? Maybe about this dude all up on floor 7 that was always wearing a beanie and sunglasses or that girl from over the street that was walking her dog up and down the street.

Someone was entering the apartment. Namjoon rounded the corner and came into your view. He was also still in his morning clothes, his feet hidden beneath two slippers. Your gazes met shortly, a quick nod exchanged and gentle smiles, before he made a turn.

“And?” He strolled over to the coffee machine, slippers scratching on the floor. “Anything new?” He nodded towards the book sprawled out in front of you.

“I haven’t really checked yet, give me a second.” You concentrated back on the book, pages sliding through your fingers as you looked for a new secret until you found it. You didn’t really pay any attention at first. But then you read your name in big, curved letters. A quiet gasp slipped past your lips.

Checking to see if Namjoon was still making coffee, you hoped he was not aware of your little slip up. He happily worked away, putting coffee beans into the machine, whistling ‘Jingle Bells Rock’ to the puckering sound of the milk frother.

Then, you turned your attention back to the book. When you read Has naughty dreams of their best friend in small letters, your heart sped up and your breathing got ragged. Underneath it was, like it had always been the case before, a more detailed description of what had happened. And a picture of you writhing and moaning beneath the sheets. No, why today?!

The words in front of you blurred as you tried to fathom the consequences if Namjoon came to read this. Your friendship would be over. He would never speak to you again. Hell, what would he think of you?!

You couldn’t let that happen. He was the only thing in your life that kept you sane. That could not all be thrown away. You quickly closed the book, thinking of something to distract Namjoon.

Unfortunately, the loud thump startled Namjoon. He turned around as he heard the sudden noise. He eyed you for a second and then noticed the closed book under your hands. He put down the coffee spoon he was holding. “Uhm… Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Your eyes are like… this wide.” He put a fair distance between his thumb and his pointer finger.

Quickly shaking your head, you scrambled for words. “It’s nothing. I-I thought I…” Yeah, what did you think? It was hard to lie when Namjoon looked at you like that. Your brain couldn’t come up with anything. Instead, you just gulped heavily.

Namjoon’s coffee was now forgotten, its owner too curious about what you had read and seen. He had, of course, noticed your nervous behaviour, growing suspicious of what you were trying to do. His slippers scraped along the floor again as he casually made his way over to you. With his gaze never leaving your face, he followed your every move.

Clambering for the book, you secured it in your arms before Namjoon could reach for it. He couldn’t find out. Not about the dream. Not about the feelings you held for him. But especially not about the dream. The sinful scenes replayed themselves in your head again and you felt your cheeks heating up once more. “There is nothing in there,” you exclaimed, trying to sound as convincing as possible. But there was a crack in your voice. And you could see it in his eyes. He knew.

Scrambling to sit up right on the couch, you shook your head ‘No’, keeping the book tight in your clutches. Over your dead body would it fall into his hands.

“If there is nothing to see, why are you keeping it from me?” He tried to reason with you, stretching out a hand towards the book that you kept clutched in front of your chest, your arms wrapped around it like it was the most precious treasure you had ever possessed.

Namjoon was not one to accept a ‘No’, you knew that. You could spot the determined look in his eyes already. There was nothing that would keep him from finding out. And that had you scared like hell.

You could only stare at him, not having an answer for his very true and logical question. He would always catch you with his well thought-out reasoning. It made you want to tear your hair out every time. Right now, though, you were paralysed by fear.

“Well, you leave me no choice,” he approached you slowly, trying to read you, trying to calculate which escape route you would take. Because whatever stood in that book, had you all jittery and he had to know why. Though he knew that you would never show him voluntarily.

Panic, your brain screamed. And your body scrambled up from the couch, trying to get away from Namjoon. You still clutched the book in front of your chest with both hands.

“No, no, no!” he lunged forward, reaching for you. “You’re not getting away!” He got your left foot before you could escape safely from the couch. Your body fell back onto the cushions, knocking the breath out of your lungs. But you didn’t let go of the book, no matter the pain it would cost.

In his haste to prevent your escape, he knocked down a few wooden reindeers and snowmen from the coffee table. Luckily, there was no glass there. You had told him right in the store that you would not be buying any glass decorations if he would be around. With his clumsiness, he would knock them down within mere seconds. Hell, he had almost dropped something right then and there in the shop. But you both had other things to worry about right now than your Christmas decorations.

“Namjoon,” you shout out anxiously. “Let go of me!” But his grip on you didn’t ease up.

“Not before you show me the freaking book, Y/N!” And he kept his word, his hands desperately trying to seize the book from your tight grip. But you wouldn’t give up so easily. You once more tried to get away from him, grasping for the armrest and pulling like your life depended on it. But he was just too strong, with one hand grabbling for the book and the other holding down your legs.

While fighting him off, you didn’t notice how he’d crawled up your body, getting in nearer reach of the book. And suddenly he was way too close to your face, hovering above you in such an intimate way he never had before.

There had been moments of course. Where he had caged you in a little at your door, when he had leaned in too close, when he had pulled you into his warm embrace… But that had been something different.

Now he laid on top of you, covering your body with his. His chest heaved against yours as he tried to catch his breath from fighting with you. His grey-dyed hair fell in streaks into his eyes and once more his skin glowed in the warm fuzzy light of the fairy lights that framed his head. For a second, the both of you just... stopped.

He looked deeply into your eyes; his pupils overshadowed with an emotion you couldn’t grasp. Your heart beat even faster and your brain felt like it would explode any minute. Your senses were heightened, and you could feel his skin burning on yours. It was… ravishing. Your body couldn’t get enough of it already.

Suddenly, he snapped the book out of your hand, forcing an evil laughter out of his mouth and the moment was gone. He had shamelessly used your messed up state to his advantage and now the book was in his hands.

He scrambled back up from his position on top of you, quickly getting away from you and taking the book with him so you wouldn’t come up with the idea of snatching it back from him. Well, you had resigned already anyway. There was no way you could stop the inevitable from happening now. You said your last goodbye to your friendship. He took one last look at your dishevelled and defeated state before he plopped down on the armchair.

Thump, thump, thump. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears like the drums of that one Christmas song that they always played on the radio, and your stomach took a heavy leap. No, you couldn’t watch this. It was just too much to handle. You grabbed for the plush Santa Namjoon had gotten you as a joke last year, and hid your face in the red fabric of his cloak. You peeked out anxiously, watching Namjoon.

Pages rustled as Namjoon slowly opened the book. His heart beat just as fast as yours as he searched for the right page. Not because he was anxious, but because of his excitement as to what he would get to read on that page. And then he finally found it.

He was not surprised that it was about you. He had actually predicted that. Why else would you react that way if this didn’t reveal something about you? But the content had him gasping out in astonishment.

To actually believe it, he had to read it more than once. It beat all of his wildest dreams. Not only had you caught feelings for him, but he had of course caught feelings for you as well. And quite some time ago too. He had wanted to confess more than once but he hadn’t had the guts. He was very afraid of losing you as well so this came as a very pleasant surprise to him.

Unable to help it, he read the passage once more and let his gaze on the image of you linger a little longer, feeling arousal crawl up his body. He had caught you staring at him here and there, when going for a swim in the summer or when he read a book, when you didn’t think he would notice. He had never given much thought to it though. He would have never guessed that you had thought about him, dreamed about him.

He needed a few to gather himself, to brace himself for what was to come. He couldn’t let this slide just like that now that he knew that you felt the same for him. Now that he knew what you were craving. And he wanted to give you exactly that. All night if you wanted to. He wanted to give you the pleasure that you deserved, see you writhing underneath his fingers, calling out his name so that everyone could hear what he did to you.

A mischievous grin passed over his face. He would take care of that wish of yours, as a Christmas gift. That he promised to himself and gathered all of his confidence for. His heartbeat was going through the roof but he didn’t want you to know, and tried to keep a calm face.

You peeked out once more as he closed the book. You tried to read his face, but there was nothing to work with. Had your friendship been ruined already? Would he just leave and never say a word to you ever again? You expected the worst, already feeling tears prick in your eyes.

Namjoon slowly got up from the armchair and now you were sure he would leave the apartment. You felt embarrassment, shame, and regret overwhelm you. But there was something in you that fought back. Your eyes grew big, you couldn’t just let him go like this. “Namjoon, I-“

But he cut you off mid-sentence. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” He shook his head, putting the book down on the table and shoved it over towards you. Your gaze fell back to the image of you, a moaning mess in the bed. You couldn’t handle looking at it and instead gazed up at Namjoon and being met with an expression that you hadn’t expected at all.

He looked like a boy who had gotten the biggest present for Christmas, but there was also something a lot less innocent in his eyes. Holding your gaze, he came back over to the couch and crouched in front of you.

“You’ve been –“ He swallowed visibly, nervousness getting the best of him for a second, before he proceeded with confidence “–a very naughty girl, Y/N, haven’t you?” He cocked an eyebrow while putting both of his hands next to your legs that rested on the edge of the couch.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. Never had you imagined that Namjoon would speak like this to you. You could not say much, your throat going dry, and just slowly nodded your head.

“Hmm, thought so,” he answered while letting his gaze wander over your form. “Well, what do we do about that? Naughty girls need to be punished, right?” His eyes drifted back to your face, satisfied he took notice of the effect he had on you. How your legs unconsciously rubbed together at his every movement.

With the heat rising from you, he felt drawn to you.

“But I think you’ve been pretty nice this year. I think we leave the punishment for another day and instead–“ He nodded towards the book, referring to the description of your dream under the picture. “– keep working on this.” He turned back towards you. “What do you think, Y/N?”

His words were music in your ears. This was more than you could wish for. You pinched yourself for a second, making sure it wasn’t another dream of yours, that you hadn’t just fallen asleep again in your bed. But it was as real as it could get. Arousal is already pooling in your panties, Namjoon’s deep voice resounding in your head.

By now, he was drawing small, soft circles on the skin of your thigh, patiently waiting for your answer. He wouldn’t do anything about it as long as you hadn’t given your consent. There was still a little voice inside of him that wasn’t sure if you really felt the same. He had no time to think too much about it though.

You cleared your throat, the effect he had on you clear as day. “I’d… love that.” You shyly answered, carefully putting a hand on Namjoon’s cheek. He leaned into your touch immediately, closing his eyes for a second to enjoy the feeling of the gentle action.

He pushed himself up a little, his face hovering in front of yours. You held your breath, excited for what was to come. He was even closer than before. You could feel puffs of his hot breath gently caressing your lips. His eyes kept yours caged, his pupils blown looking like black holes that swallowed you to take you to another dimension.

With his hand moving up to the side of your neck, it gingerly brushed against the skin and he left it at the nape of your neck. His face inched closer, barely any space left between your lips now. Your thumb grazed over his cheek, the skin underneath warm and tender. You could stay like this forever.

“May… may I kiss you?” Namjoon asked, gaze drifting between your shining eyes and your tempting lips. You took his breath away, making him weak in the knees. Why hadn’t he confessed to you sooner? He could have had it all already. You had both missed out on so much. But there was still so much time to make up for it all.

It took all of your willpower to not kiss him right then and there, but to answer his question first. You looked deep into his eyes, “Yes, I beg you to.”

And that was all that was needed for Namjoon to desperately press his lips against yours without hesitating for even a second. Both of you closed your eyes, relishing in the moment of the first kiss shared between the two of you. It was not at all how you had expected it to feel but so much more. Your heart took a leap at his soft lips that moved so lovingly against yours while his thumb stroked your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin.

Namjoon had to take a break to catch his breath, soft laughter escaping his lips. His hand remained at the back of your neck and so did yours on his cheek. But this break didn’t last long because both of you were already hungry for more. Your other hand went into his hair while your mouth landed back on his.

Tugging a little at the strands, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan, his lips opening to the kiss. His tongue darted out, tapping against your lower lip and begging for entrance. You let him stew a little until both of your tongues met in a heated battle.

Slowly, Namjoon could feel himself getting hard. Your sweet lips got the best of him and he couldn’t do anything against it when his mind imagined them wrapped around his cock. He could feel it twitch in his pyjama pants, begging for attention. But Namjoon wanted for you to cum first. The outlook of getting to taste you with his tongue between your folds was too promising.

In fact, he didn’t want to wait any longer. As much as he enjoyed making out with you, he wanted to dig into the real fun. He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead softly against yours. This time you had to catch your breath.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?” Namjoon whispered softly, asking for your permission to go on.

You pecked his lips adoringly. “I mean I’ve been dreaming about it.” Both of you chuckled lightly, caressing each other’s skin. “I couldn’t wish for more this Christmas.” You had to stifle a laugh. This was the most interesting Christmas you had ever had. And you loved it.

Namjoon made his way over to your ear with featherlight kisses to nibble on your earlobe before he hushed into your ear, making you shiver at the nickname he used for you, “I want you to tell me if you feel uncomfortable, baby girl.”

“I will,” you breathed back, enjoying the shivers that ran down your spine as Namjoon’s breath tickled your skin. You buzzed with excitement, awaiting his treatment.

“Okay, baby girl,” he moved down from your ear to your neck, nipping at the skin and grazing his teeth over your shoulder a little. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

While your breathing got heavier at these few words already, he gently pushed your thighs apart with his hands, his upper body moving in the space in between to have better access to your neck. His hands wandered over your inner thighs, setting your skin on fire and your blood boiling.

Another quiet moan escaped your mouth. It all felt just too heavenly. And it made Namjoon proud to know he was making you feel good. You deserved it and he was ready to give it to you for the rest of your life if it meant he would hear your sweet little moans.

As he nibbled lightly on your neck, his hands crawled up your shirt, pushing it up over your chest. His mouth unlatched to attach itself again to one of your nipples immediately, drawing sloppy circles around it. While one of his hands held up the shirt, the other sweetly caressed your other breast, brushing against the sensitive bud and making it stand up, aroused.

Throwing your head back, you pushed your upper body into Namjoon’s face. The treatment he blessed you with was paradisiac. If it was up to you, he could do that for the rest of eternity. Still, there was one place where you needed him a lot more…

“Joonie.” His nickname left your lips in a faint, breathless hush. He let out a breathy moan against your nipple. God, now his mind would forever replay this moment and your needy plea whenever someone would call him by this nickname. You were his rise and his fall.

He pecked your nipple one last time before looking up from in between your breasts with hooded eyes. “Yes, baby girl?”

“I need you,” you breathed out, hands still playing with his soft hair.

He cocked his head, one of his eyebrows rising. “Need me how?”

You let out a quiet, frustrated sigh. He knew exactly how, teasing you in a vulnerable moment. With your cheeks heating up, you looked away for a second. This was still very unchartered territory to you.

Feeling one of his hands back on your cheek, he tilted your head to look at him. Eyes full of genuity, he softly told you, “You don’t need to be ashamed when you’re with me. You can freely tell me what you want because I want to make you feel good.” He took your hand and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, softly muttering against your skin, “I want you to feel safe with me.”

It was easy to tell he was being serious and honest. How did you deserve this man? You mouthed a quiet ‘thank you’ to him, feeling more at ease now. And it gave you the confidence to state your desire.

“Joonie… I need your mouth on me and your tongue in me, please,” you begged as you didn’t break off the eye contact. His eyes lit up at your words and he nodded eagerly, pressing one more kiss on your knuckles before he let your hand go.

“If you need something to hold onto, my hair is as good as anything else,” Namjoon told you, winking at you saucily before levelling his head with your clothed core. You held in a breath as he put a featherlight kiss to your inner thigh before nipping on the smooth skin.

His hands wandered over your lower legs towards your waist where they played with the hem of your pyjama shorts, ghosting over your skin. He could smell your wetness and it drove him crazy. He was just as riled up as you were.

He looked up from between your legs, giving you a very similar view as your dream had. You still couldn’t believe that this was all actually happening.

“Baby girl? Could you do me a favor?” His hands slipped back under your shirt for a second, drawing soft circles on your lower back.

You nodded eagerly, willing to do anything as long as he’d continue his exploration down your pants.

“Could you lift your hips for me a little?” He nodded towards your hips. “We need to get these out of the way.”

You obeyed his request, leaning back while lifting up your hips from the couch. All you wanted was his mouth on you.

Namjoon sucked in a breath, preparing himself for the view he was about to get. He had dreamed of that moment many, many times. In the shower when the thoughts of you got over his head, in bed when he had had another vivid dream of you in his arms.

He gently pulled down both your pyjama shorts and your panties, dragging them slowly over your legs to fully enjoy this moment. The clothing items in question hit one of the snowmen in the face as Namjoon carelessly threw them over his shoulder.

You felt the cold air hit your sensitive skin, dragging in a breath as it came in contact with the rough material of the couch. You needed release desperately right now, even little things like these throwing you off. You sank back into the couch a little.

Heartbeat strumming in his ears, Namjoon’s gaze wandered between your legs, laying eyes on your glistening folds for the first time. It was a sight to behold, at least for him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, dragging one hand through his hair while lowering back down between your legs.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered while pushing his arms under your legs and pulling them up on his shoulders so he could get better access. You relaxed your upper body on the backrest while shifting your hips up to the edge of the couch so that not only you were comfortable, but it would also be easier for Namjoon.

He gave you one last smile before pressing his head between your legs, his hair pleasantly tickling the inner skin of your thighs. You could feel hot puffs of breath hitting your sensitive folds, making you shiver around him. He hummed lightly, pleased at your reaction.

With his hands gently holding down your thighs, he pressed soft kisses around your pussy, nipping at the skin here and there and biting down softly. He closed his eyes, savoring the last moment before he would get to taste you.

With one hand holding you up, you entangled the other back into his hair, threading through the strands. Your soft gasps filled the air, encouraging Namjoon on.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, dropping a sloppy kiss onto your pussy. Tongue darting out between his lips, he took a long lick along your glistening folds. You tasted so good, he was glad that you would be the first meal of his day besides the coffee.

A strangled moan reached his hair and he opened his eyes to watch you throw your head back in pleasure. You looked like a goddess in the dim light of the morning and the fairy lights, the sinful image burned into his mind forever.

One of his hands reached around your leg to spread your folds for him, your clit coming into view. He latched his mouth onto it, sucking it in like a starved man.

Waves of pleasure rolled over you, feet pressing down on Namjoon’s back. If he kept this up, you would be falling apart in mere minutes. Your hands tugged on his hair, urging him to continue his treatment of your pussy. “Don’t stop,” you breathed out.

He replaced his lips with his thumb, caressing your bundle of nerves while his mouth moved further down. His tongue hungrily lapped at your walls, desperate to catch every taste it could get.

Your hips moved on your own as they pressed themselves against his face willingly, desperate for a release. You could feel your orgasm slowly approaching as Namjoon worked his magic on you.

As his tongue found your entrance, he slowly pushed it inside, before swirling it around a little. You gasped for air as you could feel it massaging your walls, back arching up from the couch. After letting you adjust to the feeling of his tongue inside you, he started darting it in and out at a rapid pace, thumb still fumbling your clit.

His nickname fell from your lips like a waterfall, wonderful music to his ears. You begged him not to stop, promises of you being close spurred him on, going down on you even faster. He could feel his rock-hard cock straining against his pyjama pants, begging to be released. But it was not yet the time.

He needed you to cum all over his tongue first and, hell, he would make sure of that. Feeling your walls contracting around his tongue, he put a little more pressure on your clit, circling and rubbing it gently with his fingers, trying to take you over the edge. You were almost there, he could feel it.

“Joonie, fuck, I am-” The sentence got lost between a heavy mess of moans and whimpers as you finally came with one last stroke around Namjoon’s tongue. You closed your eyes, orgasm blazing through your body in pleasurable waves.

Namjoon lapped up everything he could get, guiding you through your orgasm. As the moans and the whimpers lessened, his mouth, albeit grudgingly, detached from your folds, pressing one last kiss to your inner thigh before he looked up about you through his lashes.

As you looked down, you were met with a very vivid image of your last night’s dream as Namjoon’s skin glowed from your juices that were smeared all around his mouth. His hair had fallen into his eyes, not able to hide the playful glint in his eyes. His cheeks were a flushed red, chest heaving for air.

“That was… amazing,” you whispered as you cupped his cheek, thumb caressing the hot skin. You leaned over him, stealing a kiss and tasting yourself on his tongue. “Thank you.”

Namjoon chuckled lightly, taking pride in making you feel so good. He nuzzled his face in your neck, breathing in your delicate scent. “I think we both actually have someone else to thank.” Both of your gazes fell onto the book that still laid open on the coffee table.

You grinned from ear to ear at his words. “Well, thank you, Santa, I guess then? For helping us idiots?” Both of you couldn’t hold in your laughter at the situation. What a naughty Christmas it had been for sure!

Quietness settled over the two of you for a minute as you enjoyed each other’s company. As Namjoon slowly got up from his kneeling position, you noticed his hard manhood through his pants. Licking your lips, you felt yourself getting wet again. Your hunger for Namjoon had only just awakened.

“How about… a shower?” you proposed, cocking a head at Namjoon. “I think it’s time I’ll take care of you.” Pushing yourself up from the couch, you let your hands roam freely over his upper body.

Namjoon snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you against him. “As if I could say no to that.” You could feel his cock through the soft fabric of his pants pressing against your thigh. Namjoon leaned down, his lips against your ear.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he whispered as he softly started kissing you again under the shining lights of the fairy lights and a mistletoe magically grew down from the ceiling. Santa has his way in fulfilling wishes…

© nottodayjjk 2021 - all rights reserved.

[shurisneakers]

perceive

Summary: In which he reclaims his five senses of perception

Word count: 1k

Warnings: angst, anxiety, ptsd, mentions of death and torture, sensory overloads but also fluff

A/N: behold, i actually wrote it. try prying filter coffee from my cold dead hands but since chai is more popular, i included pakorey to compensate even though it’s tasteless and i hate it

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

1.

He’s not usually one for soft blankets.

Hell, for the longest time he’d find comfort on the cool tiles against his skin. Fevers stealing away nights of peaceful sleep, body aching from the stress of carrying all the sins of the world on his back.

Blankets were too soft, too gentle. It worked hard at his years of pain, felt almost completely strange against his skin. Too kind. He did not deserve the kindness. The harsh cold punished him in ways his mind couldn’t and he thought that maybe, this was his redemption.

2.

Coffee was dark, bitter, many a times lukewarm. It was hard to explain his inclination to this variation of it when there were so many more available in the free world. But things were constantly changing, there was never a rug that stayed long enough under his feet to initiate shock when it was pulled away again. And when for seventy years one of the only constants he has was this garbage, he stuck to it, hoping that it tethered him in a world that seemed like it was spinning out of control around him.

There was never any effort put into the drink. Usually grabbed off the desk from a lower ranking agent, or stale from day or two prior. Years later, coffee any other way was just too sickly sweet. Anything more than the cheap beans and water felt foreign on his tongue. Too luxurious. He doesn’t want to afford luxury, not when he took away the chance to experience it from countless others. 

The only exposure he had to coffee was a quick adrenaline shot before he’s sent out to wreck havoc quietly and maybe, that’s all he should be allowed to have.

3.

Silence was his best friend. If there was silence it meant that for a second, perhaps he could drown out the cries. Silence meant that he wouldn’t add a name to his list of redemption, it meant that his ears wouldn’t strain to hear what new serum they discussed injecting into him to improve efficiency. In the silence, it was just him. 

Did he love the silence or did he love the absence of noise? 

But he learned to pay attention to sounds, even when he’s out of confinement. He never felt like there was a moment where a sound is just what it claims to be. He paid attention for footsteps while leafing through books in the library, angry shouts in a crowd of squeals at a carnival, gunshots near the loud chatter of a construction site. He was always searching for more.  

If he focused on one sound, he risked ignoring the rest. He would never know peace.

4. 

With the number of times his nose had been broken, you’d think that he altogether lost his sense of smell. A several thousand times he wished he had. Old gunpowder, the cement dust from falling buildings, and fuck, he thought the stench of blood was the worst but one time he unwittingly catches the fresh scent of perfume before he kills the wife of a Hydra victim waiting for her husband to return home. It sears into his brain. He can pull it from memory even years down the line and the terror from that night drags him back into a spiral. 

It was an unlikely enemy. He didn’t even know how to explain it. 

5. 

Days with sensory overloads were common. His home for majority of his life was in the darkness; sometimes his body existed while his mind forced itself to think of something other than the cold. He always took time to adjust when he was pulled out of the ice, blinking and adjusting an environment different from the last time he opened his eyes. Years’ worth of distinction. 

His sensory attacks happened a lot more in Bucharest. At least now it’s down to about two or three a month. He remembers the newspaper clad windows and cowering under a blanket, hoping that the familiarity of darkness would stop it. 

There is so much around him all the time- seasons keep changing in front of him, wild hair colours and hundreds of billboards and he thought, God, sight has to be the worst of them all. 

He wore black. Constantly, everywhere. It gave him less to look at. 

He just wished that everything would stop. 

Years later, he’s glad it didn’t. 

6.

Things were different now. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s you. He’d recognise your voice anywhere. 

Bucky drags his eyes away from the lawn in front of him. There are flower pots you’ve arranged, filled with any kind of plant you find pretty. He finds himself spending hours looking at the bright pink carnations and the sunflowers he picked out. It brings a certain liveliness that he adores. 

“How many pennies do you have?” Lifting up the blanket, he offers you a place under the warmth beside him.

You settle down next to him, taking him up on his offer, nudging yourself under his arm. “I’d say I have enough.”

His body is a warm security against the cool wind that the storm brings.

The smell of rain on fresh grass is intoxicating. He’s long added it to his list of favourite scents, only next to the fresh waffles from the diner downtown.

Your hand extends a cup of filter coffee towards him. A content smile grows on his face. What initially was too sweet, too sharp, now is a lingering sense of comfort. He was damn near addicted to it.

He takes it a little too eagerly. 

“New sweater?” you ask, and he hums in affirmation. “Blue looks good on you.”

“Thank you.” It’s something he’s working on- accepting compliments. It won’t hurt anyone if he just accepted that some people like certain things about him, he was reminded over and over again by his therapist.

A stray droplet lands on his cheek. He closes his eyes. 

He feels your fingertips wipe it away softly. He leans into you.

Your hum of an old Kishore Kumar song reverberates through you, a soft melody to accompany the rain. He simply listens, willingly zeroes in on it.

The world has been rough for years but maybe this cup of coffee, fleece sweatshirt and the plate of pakorey beside you will be soft enough to help for the next few.

[after-witch]

Yandere Ransom Imagine

“That's some heavy-duty conjecture.”

Word Count: 2700ish

notes: unhealthy relationships, emotional and physical abuse, financial abuse, yandere

Imagine being a struggling adult working a full time job plus freelancing gigs just to get by in your one-bedroom apartment where the ceiling always leaks when it rains and you have to perform a complicated maneuver to make sure the door doesn’t jam up on you and you’re constantly worried about your landlord raising the rent.

Maybe a well-meaning friend gets you a gift card to an upscale bookstore because they know you haven’t had a new book on your shelves in years, or maybe you find $20 on the street like a veritable Charlie Bucket but instead of buying a Wonka Bar you head into a this fantastic artisan coffee shop on the rich side of town, a place that everyone always raves about on Instagram, just so you can try an expensive latte with hand-ground beans and flavors you’ve never heard of before--because don’t you deserve a treat, for once?

Whatever it is, wherever it is, Hugh Ransom Drysdale is waiting inside and sees you there.

And oh my God is it obvious that you’re out of place right off the bat. I mean, what the hell is someone like you doing in this part of town?

With your worn out clothes that are worn from necessity and not from being fashionably thrifted and your ratty purse stuffed with papers and candy wrappers that spill out when you dig in for your card or cash and your winter boots that you’ve probably worn 5 years in a row, ripped in the hell and patched with black tape that you hope people don’t notice.

It becomes even more obvious that you’re out of your element when something goes wrong. The gift card isn’t activated. The $20? A fake, probably a movie prop that blew in the wind. Whatever goes wrong, it means that you’re suddenly at the register, impatient people with real money tapping their expensive shoes behind you, unable to pay. You’re left standing there like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to do or say.

Normally he might just roll his eyes and remind himself that people like you ought to stick to your own shops, your own place. But something about the way your eyes go all downcast and you seem to shrink down in embarrassment makes him take pity on you. Like a stray cat in the alley hoping someone will toss it some scraps.

So he strides up and flicks out a card and hands it to the cashier, dropping a friendly greeting to them because he spends like crazy and they probably know him by name at this place, and he’s the one who hands you your coffee or your bag and your hands touch ever so briefly during the exchange.

He leads you away from the register--don’t want to piss off the spoiled debutantes and assistants on lunchtime coffee runs--and you stammer out a thank-you-thank-you and you promise you’ll pay him back as soon as you can and Jesus Christ, isn’t that just adorable? Someone like you, some lost kicked puppy who can’t even afford new boots, promising to pay him back?

He doesn’t care if you pay him back, but he finds that he would like something out of this exchange, so he says that instead of paying him back you can do him the honor of going to lunch with him. His treat. 

He insists. And you can’t really say no, can you? You are hungry and he did just pay for your things and it’s the least you can do to oblige his request.

He’s not stupid. He doesn’t take you to some razzle dazzle fancy restaurant where you’ll feel embarrassed and out of place. Instead he takes you to a quiet diner, classy not greasy, where you can have an easy conversation and tell him all about yourself.

It’s funny. Normally he brings up his family name, his grandfather’s books, to women he picks up, to get them impressed and hooked and pliable. Something about you, though. Something about you is making him want to turn this into more than a lunch date and pressure for a quickie in the car to repay him. 

So he holds back to see what he can do with you on his own. No quickie in the car, but instead before he drops you off--at a bus station, you insisted--he brushes his hand over yours. Can he get your number? He swears he can feel the heat coming off your cheeks as you fumble for your phone and let him put his number in your contacts.

He waits a day, then asks you out again. Dinner, this time. He asks you if you know any good places and you recommend a dive bar that you can go to after work (because 1) schedule and 2) cheap) and shit, he’s all for it. There will be time in the future to impress you with restaurants that have dress codes instead of sticky floors. You sit close on the stools and you buy him a drink (real cute, real real cute) and just for you he keeps the baggie in his pocket there all night instead of heading to the bathroom to liven things up.

Your relationship develops with an almost shocking speed. He knows just how to reel you in. I mean--look at you. Working your ass off at some dead end job, living in an apartment so shitty it takes you almost a month before you reluctantly agree to let him see it.

He can understand, though. Because you’re not that stupid and you know he’s wealthy, even before he casually brings up his family in a “it’s no big deal but I don’t want to keep things from you because we’re getting serious” sort of way. 

You pretend to be casual about it all, but he can tell you’re suddenly wondering: why the hell would someone from this wealthy family want anything to do with me?

It’s a question Ransom asks himself a lot. He asks himself this when he’s snorting coke off another woman’s stomach (hey, you’re dating, but he’s got needs and they aren’t met with hand-holding) or when he’s eating another greasy burger at a shitty bar because you refuse to let him buy you a nice dress to wear so he can take you out somewhere fancy.

You’re not the type of person he normally goes for, not at all. He has strings of girlfriends and flings, but they all tend to fit that same cookie cutter mold: wealthy do-nothings with their parent’s credit card who want someone else to spoil them for a while, without caring who it is or what they’re like. They’re easy pickings that Ransom can burn through and then toss aside when he’s bored of them. Some of them cry but a few days later he’ll see them on someone else’s arm, it’s the circle of life.

With you, though, there’s more. You don’t expect him to pay for dates or anything at all (even when he wants to spoil you a bit) and you have actual conversations and you seem to actually give a shit about what he says and does. You argue with him, too, when he wants you to do something (just let him take you shopping, for Christ’s sake!) or he asks you to move in (again) and you say no (again). I mean, you really fight with him, spitting words and all.

And unlike his previous girlfriends, you don’t come crawling back a few hours later because you want to buy a new purse with his shiny credit card. Instead, you make him apologize first. Fuck, that’s hot. It’s also something he tucks away in the back of his mind to work on later--but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit that he sometimes has the overwhelming urge to push you against the wall and fuck you for the first time right after a good argument. 

But he knows that would destroy your image of him entirely, so he holds back. He’s good at crafting a version of himself that appeals to others when he has to, and you’re maybe the first person that’s been worth all the effort he’s put into you so far.

But you need a push, a push that makes it so you can’t go running back to your shithole apartment when you fight or when you question whether or no you two have a future. You do, you’re just too naive--too inexperienced with money, to say it charitably--to realize it.

So he tips off the fire marshal about your apartment building’s shoddy fire escapes and well, damn, in the process of the investigation all the little corners that your landlord has cut come crashing down. At least they were discovered before it was the building that came crashing down.

But the evacuation of the building leaves you--and countless others--high and dry. You don’t have any family in the area, and your only half ass-decent friend in the city lives in the same building but her parent’s aren’t going to let a stranger move in.

When you finally realize you have no options and call him, voice tentative and embarrassed, he knows just what to say to get you to pack your meager belongings and wait for him to pick you up. He’s no-nonsense about it. 

He knows how to avoid deflating your pride, how to keep you from deciding you’d rather stay in a shelter than take his charity. You’ll pay him back, he says, you’ll figure out a rental plan or whatever. He even teases--he’s not the best landlord, but he won’t take 2 weeks to change the toilet if you submit a maintenance request. It makes you crack a smile and bam, just like that, he knows he’s gotten in.

That night, after takeout and wine and a Netflix movie neither of you paid attention to, you fuck for the first time on his expensive sheets on his expensive bed and afterwards, when you’re both sweating and cuddling and reveling in the afterglow, he makes a note to buy you some new lingerie. 

It’s all very homey, for a while. He could do without you leaving for work and working your ass off, with your freelance shit, sometimes staying on the computer until two, three in the morning. But it’s nice to have you close all the time, available to him whenever (almost whenever) he wants. He brings home takeout and you snuggle on the couch and he finally even convinces you to go out with him to a nice restaurant wearing something he’s bought and hot damn, do you look good, head-to-toe in the clothing he’s chosen for you. Especially, later that night, in private, in the lingerie. 

Does he love you? The word hasn’t left his lips yet, hasn’t crossed yours either, but he can feel it underneath the surface. No. It’s more than love. He wants you. He wants to have you. And not just for the afternoon or the summer, but forever. 

He spins daydreams about how he’ll clean you up nice and introduce you to the family. Probably to Harlan, first, because everyone knows that’s whose opinion really matters. Harlan will like you--he would probably like you without any primping or fixing, actually, which is more than he could say for his parents or anyone else in the family. Then once you’re in, you’re in--you’ll come to family dinners and vacation retreats where people always end up in ridiculous arguments, and you two can exchange snarky comments about the family on the ride home.

And yeah, sure. You fight sometimes.

He throws out your old clothes and buys you a wardrobe befitting someone he wants to integrate into his family. You fight about that.

He makes comments about you how you should quit your job or at least try to get a degree--he’ll pay, as long as you agree to go to a university within driving distance--to work somewhere more respectable than a chain restaurant. You fight about that.

He gets pissed when you want to meet some “friends” at a bar without him, because why would you need to go anywhere without your loving boyfriend in tow, unless you were trying to flirt with someone else? You definitely fight about that.

And, okay. Maybe he’s hypocritical.

Maybe he goes out late at night when you’re stuck doing your “freelancing work” and he’s in a rotten mood about it, and he ends up on the floor of a swanky club with drugs in his system and lipstick on his neck. He doesn’t come home until the next morning and you’re pissed and red-eyed and arguing with him, accusing him even, but you have no shitty apartment to stomp back to anymore so you’re stuck. 

Until you’re not stuck. Until he casually snoops through your phone and sees that you’re looking up cheap-ass apartments and hey, you’ve already booked a few interviews already. The thought of you slipping through his fingers makes him more sober than he’s been in a while. He’s got to do something. Not to himself, of course. But to you. To keep you with him.

It’s easy enough to get you fired. He’s a ‘Thrombey’ after all, and some nice crisp bills anonymously sent to the right hands is all it takes for you to come home one night, cheap mascara (he notes: buy you some better quality makeup soon) running down your cheeks. Your freelancing isn’t nearly enough to get you into an apartment.

He assumes that you’ll give up on the idea after losing your job, but you’re nothing if not stubborn (one of the reasons why he likes you) so you start the job hunt the next morning, fresh mascara in place. 

Damn, do you keep him busy. Anonymous calls. Cash in nice white envelopes. Rejection after rejection. You get so sad, so depressed. You don’t even want to go out to restaurants, so he orders in and you snuggle in his lap while he feeds you bites of orange chicken and rubs your back. It almost brings you two closer again, starts to mend the rifts that began when you refused to get over his occasional late night out.

But then you break the uneasy mending by snooping and woah, you don’t like what you find on his phone. 

You fight. 

Damn, do you fight. This time there’s no pretense of potential forgiveness as you begin wildly throwing your clothes into your ratty duffel bag from the back of the closet, telling him to fuck off fuck off fuck off, telling him he’s crazy, telling him that what he’s doing is fucking illegal and--

It’s the shock that hurts you the most.

The shock you feel when he grips your wrist hard and pushes back on your shoulder when you try to yank away, pushing you against the wall with a hard thud. It’s like having a rug pulled out from underneath your feet when you feel a slight ache in your back, on your shoulders, when you tell him to Let go, goddamn it and he only pushes back harder to keep you in place. It’s Ransom. It’s Ransom who’s doing this.

His voice feels unrecognizably cold when he leans in and hisses in your ear.

“You think you can just leave me? After all I’ve done for you? Let me tell you something--you won’t get another job within one hundred miles of here, within one thousand miles of here, unless I say you can. So just put your clothes back in the closet, chill the fuck out, and stop being such an ungrateful bitch.”

It’s the shock that makes you numbly hang your clothes back up in the closet, fold them again with shaking hands, and sit on the bed until the dam breaks and you cry.

And oh fuck, he’s sorry. Really. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and then he’s the one who’s crying and confessing that he didn’t want you leave him because yeah, he knows he’s a fuck up, he knows he’s got a drug problem, but he loves you. 

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud. He loves you. “I love you,” he says, again and again, half-laughing.  And he tells you you’re the only person he’s ever dated that made him want to be a better person but he doesn’t know how.

You don’t know what to say because maybe you do love him--but he hurt you and got you fired, but the tears on his face seem so genuine and he tells you he’ll never, ever hurt you like that again and fuck, he says, if you want to go get a job he’ll drive you to the interview right now just-let-him-blow-his-nose-first-please.

You make him sit down and then you’re the one apologizing and the rest of the afternoon is a shaky truce between you two as you drink hot chocolate and order in takeout and watch a movie together.

It’s not until you’re both under the sheets, satisfied and then showered, that you think about what he did to you in a clearer light. The thoughts weigh heavy on your mind, pulling and tugging. You think you might love him. He hurt you. He took care of you when no one else would. He cheated on you. 

I love you, he tells you, when your mind is starting to tug itself into sleep.

He hit you. He said he was sorry.

He hit you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Into The Woods

Warnings: noncon sexual acts; vaginal, anal.

This is dark!Lumberjack!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re sent to make a delivery to the man in the woods.

Note: This is for @imanuglywombat​ and @nellblazer​‘s Lumberjack Challenge. I couldn’t see if they were accepting dark fics so if they aren’t, I guess it’s just another fic lol. But anyways, the challenge inspired me.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“You sure Dezy isn’t going to make it?” You asked as you helped Gerry load the crate onto the trailer. 

“I’m sorry, I got all the other deliveries sent out with Milo but this one’s too far for him.” Gerry grunted as he closed the back of the open-top trailer. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Dezy. Second day in a row and yet I hear he’s down at the Horse every night.”

“Well, he’ll run out of beer money sooner than later,” You sighed as you pulled on your gloves. The air was starting to bite as the brief autumn was turning. “You sure you can manage without me?”

“Slow day in the shop,” He shrugged. “You just be careful.”

“Alright. I’ll do my best.” You climbed up onto the four-wheeler and fumbled with the thick key with the grizzly bear charm attached to it. “Maybe next time give me the easy ones.”

“I’ll tack an hour of overtime on your pay, how about that?” He chuckled. “You need to get out anyway. I know this place is small but you can’t spend all your time reading those harlequins in the dry good section.”

“They’re not harlequins,” You turned the engine and raised your voice as you gripped the handlebars. “They’re fantasy, Ger.”

“Sure, sure,” He backed away. “You go or you won’t make it back by sundown.”

“Never far off these days,” You mused as you revved. “See ya, Gerry. Don’t forget to down stock the fishing wire.”

“Which one of us is the boss?” He called after you as you pulled out, the small trailer rumbling behind you.

You turned off at the end of the street, past the business fronts that looked like cabins. The town looked straight out of Western but with more snow. The first of the annual powder had yet to fall but you could feel it coming. You headed over the lumpy tundra past the sparse trees that grew thicker the further you got. The paths turned narrower and you steered slowly through the damp forest.

You only went so far out when your uncle took you ice fishing and rarely in this direction. You slowed as the path grew more uneven, carefully traversing the thick roots and deep valleys. The noise of the engine bounced off the trunks of trees around you. It was more than an hour before you reached your destination. At least, you thought you were in the right place. Weren’t too many cabins hidden in these trees; well not many still inhabited.

You pulled into the clearing and killed the engine. You hopped off the ATV and stretched your legs, your thighs tingled from the rumble. You went to the trailer and open the door and slid out the heavy trunk. You braced yourself before you lifted and gave a grunt. You’d packed the load yourself. You carried it past the old motorcycle and the neat stack of wood which marched the way to the broad front porch. You slowly ascended the three steps up and set down the heavy crate beside the door.

A bench made of logs, likely by hand, stood just a few feet from the front door, a woven blanket folded over the seat. The curtains were drawn within and you started to wonder if there was anyone there or if this was just another forgotten scene. It all seemed so eerily still.

You knocked and waited for an answer. Nothing. You tried again with the same result. Then, after a cold silence, you heard a door open and snap shut but it wasn’t the one before you. You turned as a man appeared beside the far corner of the porch. He appeared disturbed by your presence as he emerged from the old shed, his flannel jacket marked with patches of dirt and his dark hair poking out from beneath a woolen cap.

“He usually just leaves it there,” He clapped his gloved hands together as he brushed away the filth. “Thanks.”

“Uh, sorry,” You turned and ambled down the steps. “I didn’t realise.”

“Don’t be sorry,” He stayed near the corner, kicking his foot up onto the stump where an ax waited to be used. “Better get going before the sun beats you.”

“Sure,” You went back to the four wheeler. His eyes bore into you as you climbed up. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just--”

“Thanks,” He said again. “Driving out here all this way. Appreciate it.”

“No problem,” You turned the key. “Have a good day, sir.”

The engine roared to life and you carefully turned around, the empty trailer clattering behind you. You couldn’t help but feel him watching you still. You wanted to look back, but didn’t. You twisted the throttle and delved back through the treeline. You hoped Dezy would get his shit together, you weren’t keen on doing deliveries.

🪓

The next day, you were back to your usual fare. You stood at the long counter of Elk’s General, watching the locals as they wandered in and out, perusing the aisles of groceries, clothing, or novelty goods. You rung them through on the outdated till and smiled after them as they left with their paper bags.

The usual midday lull came and you pressed flat your latest read on the counter. You crossed your arms over the edge and bent over the pages, losing yourself in the fantastical medieval setting. Gerry didn’t mind so much as you kept an eye on customers. 

The rusty bell above the entrance tinkled and you looked up suddenly. You turned your book over before you could lose your place. You stood up straight and smiled at your newest customer but froze as his eyes met yours. It was the man from the day before, to whom you had delivered the weeks worth of goods.

He ignored your usual greeting and marched over to you. He planted the bill for his delivery on the counter.

“I ordered six cans of maple beans. I have only four.” He said plainly.

“An oversight. I’m sorry, sir. Just a moment.” You gulped and flitted off to check the shelf. There were only the tomato beans in stock. You went to the back room and checked there. Nothing. You returned to the counter. “Looks like we’re all out but I’ll make a note to have them delivered when we get more. Or we can remove the charge from your bill.”

“Keep ‘em on,” He said as he reached into his pocket. “I can wait.” He unfolded the worn leather wallet. “I have to pay my account anyway.”

“Sure,” You reached to slid his bill closer and keyed the amount into the machine. “You could have called--”

“I don’t have a phone,” He growled as he counted out the bills. “I don’t like to be disturbed.”

You took the money and counted it. You avoided his gaze guiltily. You sorted the bills in the cash door and handed him his change. His gloves brushed your skin and he tucked the money away with his wallet.

“Good book?” He pointed to the novel.

“Alright, so far,” You answered quietly.

“I read his other one. The one set in Ancient Egypt. It was… interesting. Not my usual reading material though.” He tapped his fingers on the counter. “You have a good day, miss.”

He turned and left you as you returned his farewell. The door snapped shut behind him and you looked back down at the book. You opened the front page and read the list of works by the same author. You’d have to look into them.

🪓

Several days late, you were helping Gerry restock shelves with the newly acquired truck. The night before, you’d helped unload it and left it for the next day to sort through. Dezy sat behind the counter, half-keeled over on the stool, trying not to puke into his hands.

“Damn shit is hungover again,” Gerry muttered. “I got a whole list of deliveries today and he can’t even stand straight.”

“I can do it,” You offered. “Long as he can manage the till.”

“I don’t know if I even trust him to do that,” Gerry said. “You sure you wanna do the deliveries?”

“We got any of the maple beans on the truck?” You asked.

“A good amount.” He said.

“We owe two cans to-- well, I didn’t get his name. The man who lives way up in the trees.” You frowned, only then realising you new nothing about him. In that town, everyone knew everyone.

“Mr. Barnes?” Gerry reached over into the box and moved around several items before pulling out a can. “Quiet man. Doesn’t like to be bothered. Must’ve scared Dezy good to get him to shut up.” He took out two more cans. “If you’re willing to head up that way, you give him and extra can on me. He’s the only customer in town who pays on time.”

“Sure,” You stood, thankful not to be forced to kneel all day at the shelves. “The list?”

“Pinned up behind the counter as usual,” He caught a box of Corn Pops he hit with his elbow and swore. “Take a radio. Snow’s comin’.”

“Will do,” You said. “I should be that long.”

“Chill blowin’ in from the lake, bundle up before you go too.” He said.

“You sound like my mother.” You laughed.

“I feel like you’re mother,” He shook his head. “Now go, before I get sentimental.”

🪓

Gerry was right, it was cold. The four-wheeler seemed slower as the wind swirled around you. You stopped by each house and knocked before leaving your haul. You smiled away tips and bid each resident a good day before you rushed away under the protests of another delivery ahead of you.

Your last would take the longest, though it was the smallest. The tree cans rattled around the trailer so you stopped at the shop before you continued on and detached it. You placed the cans in a small box and secured it to the seat behind you with bungee cords. You fixed your gloves and pulled your cap over your ears before you set out once more.

The sky grew paler the later it got. A harbinger of snow. You took the same route as before, getting off once to push the ATV over a fallen branch caught beneath it. You carried on, the frigid air lashing your cheeks.

You drew up to the clearing as you had before. The motorcycle was gone, likely pushed into the shed in preparation for the first snowfall. The piles of wood had grown taller and the front door was open, the screen door a poor barrier to the looming winter.

You unhooked the box and climbed up the steps. You bent to set it down and be off. You looked up as you sensed something on the other side of the screen door. The man, Mr. Barnes, stared at you through the mesh, a mug in hand. You stood and smiled nervously.

“Your beans. An extra can for the inconvenience.” You said. “Have a good day, sir.”

You turned but caught yourself before you made it down one step as he spoke. 

“It’s pretty cold.” He remarked as he took the box in his free hand. “You like coffee? I just made a pot.”

“I appreciate it,” You turned to him. “But I don’t mean to impose on you.”

“I wouldn’t ask if you were,” He said stiffly. “I’d feel worse letting half a pot go to waste.”

“I don’t know, I should--” You glanced behind you at the trees.

“You came all this way to give me beans in this,” He held the door with his elbow and stepped through. “You don’t like coffee, I got tea.”

You took a breath as you looked back to him. “Sure. I’ll have some coffee.”

He nodded and stared at you. He blinked and moved to hold the door open. “Well, you wanna come inside? Or do you prefer your coffee frozen?”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” You kicked yourself and stopped right before the door. You smiled awkwardly and offered your name. “I just… figured you wouldn’t want a stranger in your home.”

“Bucky,” He returned and waved you inside. “Not many strangers in town. Not really.”

You entered and he followed you. The entryway was lit by an antique lamp and the front room was entirely dark. You knelt to unlace your boots as he stepped around you. You kept your coat on as the wind continued to seep in behind you.

“Kitchens just down the hall past the stairs,” He said as he continued across the wooden floor. 

“Okay,” You slid your boots off and stood, following his shadow to the kitchen. 

As you passed through the doorway, he placed his mug on the table and went to the cupboard. He took down another thick ceramic cup and sidled over to the stove. He filled it from the percolator and returned to the table to place it before you.

“Milk? Sugar?”

“I’m fine, black is good,” You accepted as he slid the cup over to you.

You sat, hesitantly, and removed your gloves. You tucked them in your pocket and wrapped your hands around the steaming cup. He pulled out another chair and sat. He looked into the mug and slowly drank from it.

“I didn’t know anyone still lived out here.” You said.

“Sometimes,” He answered carefully. “Spring and summer I spend working the lumberyards south of here.”

“And you live all the way up here?” You wondered. He gave you a sharp look. “Sorry, it’s just… curiosity.”

“I like it,” He shrugged. “It’s quiet.”

You nodded and resigned yourself to silence. You listened to the wind outside and looked around at the tidy kitchen. Most of the original structure remained, renovated but not replaced. Even the curtains seemed to be of another era; faded but without holes or tears. All the way up here, time always seemed to stand still.

“You finish your book?” His voice jolted you.

You looked back to him and sipped the hot coffee. You nodded again.

“I did.” You answered. “It was alright.”

“Just alright?” He asked. 

“I’ve read better and worse,” You said. “It was… entertaining.”

“Mmm,” He mumbled and drank his coffee. You mimicked him, eager to leave.

Ten minutes of silence and stunted small talk left your mug empty and your stomach gurgling. You stood and nervously teetered on your feet.

“I should go. It’s snowing already.” You glanced out the window.

“Sure,” He rose and gathered up the mugs and took them to the sink.

“Thank you.” You said and turned rigidly to head through the door. 

You trod down the hallway and stopped to pull on your boots. You adjusted your cap and shoved your gloves on. He neared and you pushed open the door and glanced back at him.

“Coffee was good.” You said.

He caught the door behind you and you marched across the porch. You rushed down the steps and shivered as you neared the four wheeler.

“Be careful,” He said in monotone. 

“I will, thank you,” You called back as you climb onto the seat. “Enjoy your beans.”

He waved and you turned the engine. You backed up and turned around. The snow had already left a thin powder across the ground. You steered into the trees and carefully began to weave around the trunks and along the uneven forest floor. 

The snow thickened the more it fell. You had to slow as the ride became more precarious. The downfall formed a thick carpet beneath the tires and soon, even beneath the shroud of branches, the snow formed a curtain all around you, making it nearly impossible to see. You stopped and left the motor rumbling.

You pulled the radio from its holster down beside the wheel well and turned the dial until you picked up the signal. It was static and crackled.

“Gerry? Gerry!” You held the speak to your lips. “Gerry?”

“Yeah, i--me, ---okay?” His voice went in and out.

“I’m okay but the snow is… I can’t see. It’s going to take me a while.”

“Wha-- breaking up--” The radio broke off with a high pitched scratch.

“Damn it!” You shouted and tried fixing the dial. It didn’t help.

You sat for a moment and put the radio back. You couldn’t stay and let yourself get snowed in. You’d have to keep going, slow but steady. You carefully pulled past the trees, blinking away the flakes as they gathered on your lashes. You stopped again to pulled your scarf higher over your cheeks and pressed on.

The third time you paused, you realised you were lost. A brief lull allowed your vision to clear and you had no idea where you were. You kicked the side of the ATV and cursed. You grabbed the radio again and turned it on.

“Gerry?” No answer. Several more tries with nothing but static.

You hung your head and clicked the radio off. You gripped the handlebars and looked around. You’d have to turn around and try to trace your way back but the snow was starting to get heavy again and--

“Hey,” You jumped as the voice sounded from behind you. “You okay?”

You turned to find Bucky standing by a tree. “How--”

“Looks like you just went in a big circle,” He said. “You’re about ten minutes from my place.”

“What are you doing out here?” You asked.

“Wanted to grab some kindling before the storm got too bad, then I heard you.”

“Kindling?”

“Dry it out, obviously, but might run out of what I have before this clears,” He looked up. “Look, it’s only gonna get worse. Why don’t you wait it out?”

“I don’t-- I can’t--”

“There’s more than enough room for both of us. Might be a bit dusty but… Wouldn’t feel right letting you get lost out here.”

You exhaled and looked at the radio.

“Alright,” You relented.

“I’ll lead the way.” He came up beside the ATV and passed to the front. “Just don’t get too close.”

“Okay,” You turned the throttle just a bit and kept a snail’s pace as he guided you.

He barely seemed bothered by the gusts or the deepening snow. Even as the air turned almost completely white, he didn’t waver though you squinted to keep an eye on him.

“You like beans?” He yelled back to you as he broke through to the clearing around his house.

“Maple beans?” You asked dryly.

“They go great with toast,” He said as he continued onto the shed and unlocked the wide doors. “Warm you right up.”

🪓

You sat at the table, alone. Bucky had excused himself after clearing his own plates. You still picked away at the beans and sausage, listening to the movement above. You scooped the last few bites up and swallowed, washing it down with a gulp of water. You stood and went to the sink to rinse your plate. As you set it in the rack, you were startled by a creak behind you.

“I cleared a bedroom for you. It’s a bit dusty around here.” Bucky said as he leaned against the door frame. “Bit cold, too. Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” The windows shuddered. “Better than out there.”

“I put some clothes out too. Might be a little big.” He explained. “Dinner okay?”

“Yeah, it was…” You tried to smile. “Alright. Um, just one second.”

You neared him and he moved aside. You went down the hallway to where your jacket was hung and pulled the radio out. He watched you as you fiddled with it and the speaker crackled on.

“Gerry?” You held it to your lips.

“Kiddo?” He said, clear but not entirely.

“I’m okay,” You said slowly as you held the button down. “Staying until storm clears. Call in morning.”

“Roger, kiddo,” He returned. “Be safe.”

You turned off the radio and placed it back in your coat pocket. You looked up at Bucky as he stared at you dully.

“Just wanted to make sure someone knew,” You said. “Wouldn’t want them to worry.”

“Of course not,” He said. “You want a beer?”

“What?” You were thrown off by the sudden offer.

“Beer. If you want you can grab a book from the study,” He pointed to the doorway opposite the front room. “Sit in front of the fire where it’s warm.”

“I’ll take the book,” You said. “I’m not much for beer though.”

“Hot chocolate? Tea?” He stepped a little closer.

“I’m fine,” You squirmed. “Thank you.”

‘Just let me know if you need anything,” He said softly. “Haven’t had a guest in a while but… I can be accommodating.”

🪓

You read three chapters before you found your way upstairs. Bucky showed you the room he’d prepared for you but didn’t say much more before he closed himself into his own. You changed into the long sleeve tee he left you and the jogging pants with the drawstring waist. You tucked your feet into the wool socks and rolled under the blankets. You were still cold. The top floor was entirely untouched by the fireplace below.

You drifted into a shallow sleep. Maybe an hour or two before you woke, shivering. You sat up and  reluctantly climbed out from beneath the covers. You took one of the blankets and wrapped it around you as you shuffled to the door. You slipped through, carefully not to let the hinges whine and plodded through the dark down the stairs.

In the front room, the fire burned a low amber. You crept over to it and took a log from the wrought iron basket just beside it. You placed it over the coals and stoked it with the poker until flames began to lick. You held your hands to the glow until you were no longer shaking.

You took a cushion from the couch and dropped it on the carpet. You laid down before the fire, wrapping yourself in the blanket as you basked in the warmth. You listened to the violent winds outside, softened by the heaps of snow which had gathered all around the cabin. Your eyes closed as you began to sink into the darkness around you.

You dreamt of the four wheeler, of the snow swirling around you, of losing yourself in the pure white. The trees curled and clawed at your as you were thrown from the seat. The snap of twigs filled your ears and your eyes snapped open. The fire popped as it burned, the room lighter but not much.

There was a heaviness around you. More than just the quilt, the thick arm wrapped around your middle held you close to the warmth at your back. Startled, you wriggled against the body and a groan slithered along your ear.

“What the--” You hissed as you grasped his wrist, his hand tucked beneath you. “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold,” His breath was hot as it seeped into your scalp. “You were shivering.”

“Let me go,” You tugged on him.

“Shhh,” He hushed. “It’s early.”

“Dude, not cool,” You pulled harder on his arm.

“Stop,” He said more firmly. 

“Get off of me.” You growled.

“You’re not a very gracious guest,” He snarled as he retracted his arm, only to grab your shoulder and push you flat on your back.

You latched onto his wrist, he was strong. He didn’t budge.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Scaring you?” He removed his hand. “How? What do you think I’m gonna do?”

He sat up, his broad shoulder stretched the waffled shirt he wore as he rubbed his eyes. He pushed his head back and took a deep breath. You pushed yourself up slowly beside him.

“What do you want me to do?” His hand settled on your thigh and he squeezed.

“Stop,” You tried to push his hand away and he flipped it to grasp yours. 

His grip slipped to your wrist and he twisted. He wrenched it over your head until you were forced onto your back. You cried out as he leaned over you, the blanket slipping entirely from your bodies.

“Came all this way for a few cans of beans,” He whispered. “Really?”

“Stop!” You repeated. “Please.”

“But you’re cold,” He uttered as he leaned closer. “You need to warm up… you’re shivering…” His nose touched yours. “Or… shaking?”

“Get--” His lips smothered yours as he shifted his body atop you. 

You struggled as he released your wrist and reached down to grab your knee as he forced his legs between yours. He bit your lip as he pulled and his hand clawed at the waist of the loose pants. He pulled until he snapped the string within and you kicked around him.

“What are you doing?” You beat on his shoulders. “Stop! Stop!”

“I don’t talk to people, they don’t talk to me,” He snarled. “I keep to myself. Even that dumb delivery boy of yours knows better.”

“No, no,” You slapped his chest as he sat up suddenly. 

He tore the pants down your legs until they were around your knees and pushed them up. The fabric kept you trapped beneath him, legs bent to your chest as he leaned over your once more. He brushed his nose against your cheek and snarled.

“You asked for this, honey,” He sneered. “You just couldn’t leave me alone… The way you smile at me, I can see it.”

“I was just--” You pushed against him. “--doing my job. Please, get off of me.”

He moved against you, his thighs pressed to yours as he felt between you. He pushed his own pants down and you tried to shove him off of you with your legs. You only made yourself dizzy.

The fire flickered against you, setting shadows across his features, his blue eyes caught the flame and glowed sinisterly. His rough finger tickled your cunt as he guided his cock along your folds. You grunted as you fought harder beneath him. He pressed along your entrance and you gasped, a horrified scream as he impaled you in a single thrust.

“Go on and scream.” He said. “No one will hear you. No one but me.” He jerked his hips and you cried out again. “I kinda like it.”

He moved his hips in sharp, short thrusts. He grunted with each, lower and lower, almost like satisfied purrs.

He sat up and hugged your legs to his torso as he rutted faster. He clung to you as if he was desperate, as if he couldn’t get enough. You scratched at the carpet. You whimpered each time he slammed into you, each tilt of his hips harder than the last. The clapping of your flesh mingled with your voices. You closed your eyes, holding back the sobs that threatened.

And then he stopped. Suddenly. He stayed inside of you as his grasp on you loosened. His body quivered and a low growl rose from him. He pulled out of you and pushed your legs aside to that you fell onto your side. Shakily, you pushed yourself, on knees and elbow you tried to crawl away, your pants tangled around your feet.

He grabbed your ankles and dragged you back as you slipped onto your stomach. He climbed over you, pinning your legs between his. He kneaded and pinched your ass, dusky, thick breaths rose from him. 

He pressed his thumb between your cheeks and you reached desperately for anything to get away. The edge of the carpet rolled in your grasp and you kicked your feet with a panicked whine. He pressed his thumb against your asshole and you shook your head as he buried your face in your arms. He pushed inside and you let out a shrill cry.

He poked in and out of you, your tight ring burned around his thumb. He withdrew it and forced his index finger in, then added his middle. Your pained groans only seemed to encourage him as he stretched you around a third finger.

He pulled his hand away and bent his arm over your shoulders as he lifted himself over you. He lined himself up with your ass as his hair hung around his head and brushed the back of yours. He took a breath and you held one in. He entered you slowly, letting out a choked grunt as you strained around him.

The tears pricked at your eyes and your arm shot up as you blind grabbed at air.

“Please, please, please. Stop.” You begged. “I can’t--”

He pushed deeper and your voice fizzled. He pulled back and thrust in again. Every time, he went a little further. Soon he was buried in you to his limit and you couldn’t breathe or move. He held himself inside of you and shuddered.

He began to rock and you moaned. Despite the pain, the fire that radiated from your core, it felt good. The more he did, the better it got. The pressure built, unlike any you’d felt before, and you gulped and groaned against the carpet. Shocked by him, by yourself.

He got faster and faster. Louder two as his snarls filled your head. You tensed and then in an instant, your strength drained from you. You came, harder than you had ever in your life. You murmured as your head lolled and he kept going.

He lifted his head and his fingers gripped the back of your neck as he lifted himself over you. He hammered into you from above as you lay prone and helpless beneath him. He exclaimed and you felt a warmth flow into you. 

He stopped and fell atop you. His weight held you down, suffocated you. His arm stretched up and he grabbed your hand, twining his fingers with yours.

“Stay as long as you like,” He rasped. “Snow’s not letting up anytme soon.”

[superworldunkown]

It’s a date! (x3) Part 1 - The Agreement

AN: I’ve wanted to draft this one out for awhile but I don’t have the time to crank it all out in one go so breaking it up into 4 parts! Can’t wait for you all to read.

Summary: You’ve done it again. Thrown yourself in harms way and now you’ve left Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugou to take care of you. When you half assed admitted you wanted all of them to take you out on a date for your heroic deed, you were surprised that when you had awoken, they agreed and set the plans in motion. 

(Sorry Kiri with the beautiful bouquet - you aren’t in this story but that is because you’d literally blow all these emotionally constipated beans out of the water. The world isn’t ready for your level of manliness and quite frankly we don’t deserve it!) 

“Y/N! Y/N Please, please keep your eyes on me okay!” Midorya’s voice was frantic, on the verge of several different emotions that all seemed to be vying for attention. 

“Yellin’ ain’t going to fill the hole in her fucking chest ya damn nerd!!” Bakugou’s brash voice cut through the panic and the surrounding chaos around them, “Icy Hot where’s the damn first aid...and don’t you dare die on me, ya hear. I still haveta kick your ass for that stupid stunt you pulled back there.” 

Todoroki, ever so calm and lacking emotions, though inside he was screaming, "Both of you need to calm down. Y/N try to stay awake for a little longer. Medics are on the way.” 

Despite your lungs collapsing and your blood escaping at an alarming rate, you found the situation quite hilarious. “Please,” you managed to gurgle out, “Don’t tell me you boys...are fighting over me again.” 

“This isn’t the time for jokes,” Todoroki hushed while placing torn piece of his uniform against your chest, “You need to heal.” 

The green haired student was on the verge of tears, “Please don’t die-” 

“Shut it Deku!” Bakugou snapped.

You rolled your eyes, gasping slightly, “I’ll live, on one condition,” Your eyes became a bit glazy, “You all gotta take me on date when I wake up, okay?” 

“Deal.” Izuku was the first to speak up, his hand clutching around yours. 

“Sure,” Todoroki agreed while putting pressure on your wound, “Just stay with us, help is almost here.” 

Bakugou was last to confirm. He muttered a quick fine before his calloused hands drew themselves to your neck, checking your pulse to ensure you had enough fight in you before he darted off to blast the bastards that got them all in this mess in the first place.  

You had kept your promise, holding on until the medic team arrived and you promptly passed out once you were airlifted to the hospital. 

The week after the attack was hell. You had an enormous amount of healing to do. Your body had to practically learn to breathe on its own again. But, each day you slowly gained more of your strength, and eventually the levels of oxygen you needed lowered to a point where you could see the light, and your discharge at the end of the tunnel. You still needed a small oxygen tube in your nostrils - after all, you could barely make it around the hospital floor without collapsing. 

But, it felt good to almost, almost be up to speed again. After a day of rehab your body stretched in the armchair in your hospital room, your eyes studying a text book as you attempted to regain a weeks worth of school before you were allowed back to class. However, the familiar arguing of your three favorite heroes-to-be distracted you once again. 

The door slammed open and Bakugou, Midoriya and Todoroki stumbled into the room as if they were racing to see who would get in first. Your mind flashed back to the Sports Festival from your first year at UA. Things were so much simpler back then. And the relationship between the three of you was much less complicated. You were rivals and nothing more. Now you found yourself in an an emotional web. You were close with all of them in your own way, but the emotions between them varied. 

You held such a deep emotional bond with Midoriya. His heroic energy drew you in and his soul was pure in ways yours could never be. He help you be a better person and you were forever grateful and in his debt for that. 

Todoroki you cared for on a personal level. You knew his struggles of acceptance, defiance and trauma first hand. The two of you would often get lost in conversation that only spanned 20 words or would spend hours walking along the campus grounds saying nothing or talking absentmindedly. Plus, his deadpan sense of humor was an absolute joy to be around. 

Then, there was Bakugou. Oh, Bakugou. All of them had their own flaws but of course you had to be enamored with the one with a raging ego muddled with imposter syndrome mixed with perfectionism. He was terrible, but wonderful. A loner, and Loyal. Like you he had a very backwards way of showing his kindness and care towards others, but you’ve grown to love the way he challenges you, motivates you, and stands by you (even if its far away from the corner of his eye). You couldn’t help it. He was your person. But, both of you were too shy and stubborn to admit it. 

“Y/N...are you alright?” Your green haired little bean asked, putting your mind back to the present moment. The three of them were standing next to you. One with a look of innocence, the second a look of emotionless concern, and the third...anger and spite. 

Ah, those were the faces of your boys. 

“I’m fine,” You reassured them, “Tired, but fine. What are you all doing here?” 

“We’re here about our promise.” Todoroki spoke first. Bakugou grunted while crossing his arms and Midoriya clasped his hands together, “And we talked it over on how it will work out.” 

Your confused face further irritated the blonde, “See, I told ya she’d forget. Way to put it back in her brain IcyHot.” 

“...is this about the date?” It finally clicked, “Guys, I wasn’t serious. I mean, not all the way.” 

“Well we promised.” Midoriya reiterated. “So this week we’re taking turns! I’ll be taking you out this Monday. Then Todoroki will on Wednesday, and then its Kacchan’s turn on Friday!” 

“You’re serious? I’m still in the hospital, I can’t even breathe on my own!”  You protested.

“Well we figured that into the equation so we’re doing it all here in the hospital. You don’t even have to worry about leaving. So, what do you say Y/N?” 

All three of them eyed you while awaiting your answer, some with hopeful orbs, others with a ‘just out with it!’ expression. You let out a sigh with a smile while nodding your head, “Okay, I agree. This should be very...very interesting.”

Oh, and it was.

AN: First part complete! I’ll be breaking this up into 3 parts with each new part as a date. First up, Midoriya! Click below!

[sadachmesarthim]

yes this is a rewrite, feel free to fry my ass on anon about it.

content: starker being mean to each other, peter parker has Supportive Friends™, tony has daddy and mommy issues, quentin beck is a Mean Boss™, smoking, secondhand smoke.

word count: 3.0k

square filled: coffee shop au  -> link to playlist here

part two is here!

a little vocab lesson before continuing: mobster = really high up in the chain of command for this group of coffee shops. they go around training new hirees, and often decide who gets to move up the line of command. they get to travel on company money, and are very well respected in the workplace. mobsters usually come in groups - siblings, hires from the same groups, etc. 

Tony didn't like Richland.

Sure, okay, it was a serious step up from Federal Way. He was free from his parents, he could do whatever he wanted in a house all to himself, no one knew who he was - it was a refreshing change, one he definitely needed now that he was graduated, all grown up.

He'd moved back east about two months ago. He'd wanted to get as far away from home as possible, stretch his legs - he went under the guise of missing his grandma, wanting to go to school. He wasn't a terrible liar, either. Howard and Maria'd eaten it up, encouraging him to go as soon as he could.

"If you go now, you could get there in time for summer classes. Maybe even get a job before they stop hiring seasonally. You never know, but you might as well try!"

So here he was. Still jobless, still not yet enrolled in school. Enjoying his time in the (now autumn) sunshine, biding his time before he ran out of money. He'd planned well - he had enough cash to keep him covered for a while, as long as he didn't go blowing it.

He'd blown it.

He was a sucker for good coffee, though, and he missed Outback. He'd worked at one back home for almost a year before he left, and now... now, it was like an itch he couldn't scratch - he needed the interaction, needed to go make friends. He was too much of a social butterfly.

Yet again, he found himself in his truck, on the way to the nearest stand. He was pathetic, really. Here he was, wasting more money on coffee, when he could be out hiking or climbing or... literally doing anything else.

He knew it was worth it the second he pulled in. The cutest kid was running lines that day - shorts hugging his tight ass deliciously, in a way Tony knew his operator would get in trouble for if a Mobster or Coach saw.  Christ, they lettin' just anyone work here now, that it?

He had to keep his thoughts to himself, though - the kid had just finished the cars in front of him, and was headed straight for Tony, iPad in hand. He took a breath, putting on his best poker face. He needed a fucking cigarette.

"Hey handsome! Welcome to Outback, what're we drinkin' today?" Shit, he's cute. All bright and cheery - it might be fake, sure, customer service voice and all - but boy, did he play the part well. All big eyes and wide smile. He looked up at Tony expectantly, right hand hovering over the screen of the runner iPad. Shit, he still has to order something.

"Hi, just a small iced white vanilla breve please." Tony watched as the kid pressed a few spaces on the tablet, shocked at how fluidly he moved. Tony'd never seen him at this location before, but he obviously knew what he was doing. Location transfer, maybe? Mobster? He wasn't sure.

"Perfect! I've got you in - anything else, love?" God, he was too much. There's no way this was just the sickly facade Outback enforced - no, this was all him. "Nah, I'm okay. I'm paying card today, too." He reached his hand out for the tablet, wanting to tip this kid specifically.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, this card reader's broken. The one up at the window's working though! My girl Maia'll be up there waiting for you!" He turned with a smile, skipping off to the next car.

Jesus, who was this kid? And what did Tony have to do to see him again?

•|||•

Return an application, apparently.

Maia, the girl at the window, had let him know that they were hiring. He didn't have to feign interest - he had relevant experience, could work his way up if he needed to - and he'd get to see the mystery boy again. She'd ran and grabbed a small stack of papers for him, which he dutifully filled out and brought back a couple of hours later.

The closing shift lead had briefly interviewed him, practically giving him the job on the spot. Apparently she'd met his sister on a Mob trip, before - it paid to have connections, but damn... someone in town already knew who he was. Oh well. Not a big deal. These were still new people, fresh faces - he could make a clean reputation for himself, a fresh start...

It was exactly what he needed. And if he needed to use a bit of his influence with his sister to get it... so be it.

•|||•

"Emma, please, just... don't be a dick when he calls you. I need this job, it'll be good for m-"

"Save it, Tony. I don't want your excuses. If I say I'll do it, will you leave me alone?" She was being unusually short with him. Fuck. She and Rhodey were fighting again.

"Yes, yes, anything. Thank you so much." He was met with a bored sigh.

"Whatever, dude. I'll put in a good word. Talk to you later." She hung up before he could say anything else. Whatever - it wasn't the worst conversation he'd had with his sister, but it left a lot to be desired.

They hadn't been doing well since she & Rhodey got together. It was on-again-off-again... and they were honestly both to blame. Neither one of them was good at commitment, and it showed.

It put strain on both of their relationships with Tony, and didn't do much to help keep him in Federal Way. He sought comfort in the isolation of a new town, but it didn't seem to be helping anything.

Leaving never did, but it was really all he knew how to do.

•|||•

Peter hadn’t been at Outback long, but he’d enjoyed every minute of it.

He’d gotten hired almost immediately after graduation, not wanting to waste a second of his summer not making money. It was a bit of a difficult transition - he wasn’t a big fan of Beck, his boss, and training was really overwhelming. But after he’d hit that twelve week mark... it’s like something just clicked.

He was a whiz on bar, he was making friends right and left. He and Maia’d even gone to get tattoos together a couple weeks ago during a flash sale. He was getting faster and faster at running cars, he knew almost all of his regular customers. He genuinely felt like part of the family.

That didn’t really change when Beck hired a new group, either. There weren’t too many of them, helping keep their group small. They’d been spending a bit of time in the stand here and there, going over the rules, the ins and outs of making coffee, taking their menu test.

The three he was introducing today seemed okay enough. He just barely caught the tail end of Beck's “congrats on becoming a full employee” monologue before the man set the fresh meat loose. Not that they could really go far - it was maybe a good spit's distance from corner to corner. But, if it helped them get their bearings...

He was pulled from his thoughts before they could take off too far. “Hey, Parker! Come say hi to the green beans!”

•|||•

The red haired girl was nice enough. They'd introduced themselves, exchanged snap usernames, gushed over Peter's tattoos, and bonded over the typical new job anxiety. He'd forged a sweet new friendship with Bri, and was hopeful she'd stick around. He'd seen people like her get chewed up and spit out in this industry, and he liked her.

The tall guy... was pretty boring, actually. He stayed on his phone for the majority of the introduction, opting to ignore Peter entirely. It was fine - he'd probably be gone by the end of the month. Not like they’d miss him - he barely passed his menu test, from what Peter’d overheard.

Then came Mr. Short, Dark, and Brooding - Tony, apparently - Peter remembered him from a few weeks ago. He’d given Peter a poorly concealed once-over, tried to take the runner iPad from right out of his hands... if he wasn’t so attractive, Peter’d pin him for a fuckboy.

Despite how much he looked like he’d wanted to back then, when given the opportunity, he didn’t really engage with Peter. He apparently wasn’t the type to keep eye contact, go in for a hug, make small talk. 0 for 2. Disappointing. Oh well. That’s fine - Peter was perfectly content as the only guy at this location (sans Beck, of couse). Too much testosterone didn’t foster a healthy working environment, and they all knew it.

The girls, especially. They all gushed over Peter - apparently being the token gay guy in the stand somehow made him exempt from the targetted harassment. Nearly every guy they’d hired had left within 9 months - coffee was definitely a female-dominated field.

Peter was excited to see how these two fared.

•|||•

The tall guy was gone within a week. Didn’t even leave notice, just up and stopped showing up to his shifts. Not that it was the end of the world - he was still in his probationary period, so he wasn’t even making tips. No sweat off Peter’s back.

Bri did really well, in comparison. Beck was unusually strict with her - lashing out during her initial first shifts, generally being a hardass. It was unnecessary, and everyone knew it - Peter often found himself having fridge or bathroom meetings with her to help calm her down. But she kept showing up, kept trying, and after a few weeks she was doing just as well as Peter and the rest of them.

Tony was even better. Peter’d heard through the grapevine that he’d worked at a different location when he was still in school. Why he had to go through training again was lost on Peter - Beck tended to be thorough when it came to these kinds of things, but Tony was arguably more experienced than some of Peter’s coworkers...

Apparently, it’s because he wasn’t one to play nice.

•|||•

It took them quite a while to work together. Peter’d found himself getting the shit end of the schedule, working 7-1s religiously. It was by far his least favorite shift - dealing with the morning and lunch rushes were nothing, if not exhausting. But he pushed through, and finally got a say in what he worked - a very comfortable 5 - close.

Tony seemed to fill the between-shift gap - 2-8 was his jam. He liked working later, but still getting home before dark. Apparently being a newbie meant drawing the short straw sometimes -

And the short straw just so happened to be barring with the twink from a few weeks ago.

He hadn’t been... avoiding him. Tony just... didn’t like the way he worked. Peter was flighty, always moving. It irked him... he was just so much, it made Tony’s head hurt. If he wasn’t so engaging he might actually piss Tony off - but he knew the kid had nothing but good intentions, and that made it bearable.

It didn’t translate to the bar, though.

It seemed nearly impossible for them to work well together. Tony’d been assigned the milk station for the last three hours of his shift - a long stretch, but nothing he hadn’t done before. Peter was on shots almost the entire time. Poor kid.

Tony’s sympathy ran dry when they actually began working. They were almost always on top of each other - Peter crowding his space and trying to do too much. It grated on Tony’s every nerve, made it difficult to function. Peter didn’t seem to notice at all - or if he did, he didn’t care.

It came to a head when Peter went for the fridge. 

It was a pretty well-known rule that the person on shots doesn’t reach for the fridge. Not only was it too far away from their position on machine, it requires them to go behind their bar partner, which is dangerous in a shop this small. Hot liquids, ice, sugar... they can cause spills, burns, falls... 

So of course this dumbass goes for the fridge. Opens the door. Grabs a can of cold brew with his bare hands before turning back around. 

And running into Tony face first. 

This would have been fine if it were literally anything other than a cold brew. This would have been fine if Tony wasn’t holding a fresh drink! But no - the universe lined things up just right, laid out the most well-planned disaster. 

As they made contact, Peter’s hands flew up in shock, dropping the very pressurized can. It exploded as it hit the concrete, spraying nitrogen and foam-y coffee all over them. This caused Tony to let go of the drink in his hand, coating both of their lower halves in hot, sticky milk. 

It was picturesque, the mess they made. 

Tony looked up at Peter in absolute shock. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Why were you in the fridge?!” 

“I was just trying to help! You were busy, I figured I could-” Tony cut him off before he filled the stand with more hot air. Not in the mood for his bullshit excuses. 

“I don’t care how busy you think I am - you ask before doing something outside of your station. Do you understand me?” The look in his eye was one Peter’d never seen before - it probably should have scared him, but frankly, it just made him angrier. 

“Who do you think you are to be giving me orders?” He was huffy, he could feel his cheeks burning red. He was an angry crier, and knew he was struggling to control his face. 

“My sister’s a Mobster. I think I know what I’m doing.” Oh. That explained it - his experience, his proficiency on bar... why he was such a dick. Peter’d never met a Mobster he liked, and if this guy was related to one... shit just made sense. 

•|||•

He spent the remaining few hours of Tony’s shift hiding in the back. They were better off separated, and neither complained. Tony could handle himself up front, and Peter was productive enough. He had chores to do, dishes to finish, the closing list to start... Getting an early start benefitted everyone. 

By the time 8 rolled around, the atmosphere in the stand had relaxed. They’d both had a chance to clean up, the girls on window had helped ease the tension with casual conversation. Bri had been running, and Peter spent plenty of time in the back with her, hushed enough to avoid the ears a few feet away. 

“I don’t see why he gets to walk all over us. You’ve been here longer, and the attitude isn’t necessary.” She was sitting on the edge of the sink, goldfish making their way to her mouth between words. “You know I don’t like him. I don’t see why you keep trying to be nice.”

Peter sighed. He knew she was right. “I just... I don’t want anyone here to feel left out, or like I did at the beginning. Beck can be mean... I want all of you to feel welcome.” It wasn’t a lie, either - he’d made a point to make everyone feel at home, to make this stand a family. Until Tony showed up, he’d been doing a great job. 

“I know buttercup. Just... don’t go bending over backward for someone that won’t even look you in the eye.” With that she hopped down, ready to clock out. 

Tony shuffled past them both, excited to do the same. Maia’d taken over the bar for him, alleviating him just before the four minute window was up. He didn’t even excuse himself, just inserting himself in their personal space without concern. 

Bri shot Peter a look before she left. Talk to him! 

He opted for bravery. He deserved an apology for Tony’s harsh words earlier today, and he was going to get it. 

He checked the cameras before walking back, making sure Maia wasn’t gonna wind up swamped if this took longer than necessary. Tony was collecting his things - he had to do this fast. 

“Hey, listen.” Tony looked up, unamused. “I know we didn’t exactly have a good shift, and yeah I’m partly to blame for that... but Beck doesn’t really vibe with hostility, and the girls...” 

Tony cut him off halfway through. “What, it makes them uncomfortable? They don’t like it when a man takes charge, has a little outburst? Sheesh, y’all really are a mess.” What the fuck?

“Okay, seriously. I tried to be nice. You owe me, and the rest of us, a serious apology for today, or I’m going to Quentin about it. It’s not that hard to say you’re sorry, Tony.” Good job Parker, firm boundaries. 

“I’m sorry? Sorry for what, doing my job? Fuck that, man. I’m out of here.” He opened the door and left, skipping past an oncoming car and heading toward his own. 

Peter followed him. It was stupid, sure - but he needed to assert himself here. This was his stand, his home - and he was damned if he was going to let some... some asshole trample all over his home like this.

He caught up to Tony quickly, stopping him before he could open the driver’s door. “Why are you such an asshole? The girls are obsessed with you, you clearly have a leg up against everyone else in your group. There’s no reason for you to be acting like this, dude. You’ve been here all of what, a month?” 

Tony took a long drag from his cigarette before answering. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Now be a good little closer, and run inside. Finish your shift.” He exhaled the smoke into Peter’s face, getting into his car and driving away without another word. 

What a douchebag. 

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 8

Masterlist

In this chapter, the reader learns more about Viking traditions, tries to talk to Eda again and finally becomes a member of the clan.

CW for food/alcohol, nudity, death mention, men giving unsolicited hugs (yikes)

Inspo Pic by @classicnovaproductions​

Stand by Me

While Eivor got dressed for the day, you stacked some more wood in the fireplace to make sure you and Birna would be warm. Holding up the bloody tunic, you told Eivor that you would try to save it but could not make any promises. You took the opportunity to ask her if you could by any chance have more clothes, maybe a dress or a warm shirt and pants. She was terribly sorry she had not thought of it earlier and suggested going to the village’s merchant right away to get you some appropriate clothes for your ceremony tonight. 

You wrapped yourself in your fur coat, then you had some more bread and Eivor reluctantly drank some of Valka’s bitter brew before heading out together. The merchant had set up camp down by the water and the sun was peeking through the clouds, lifting your spirits on the way down the hill. As you passed the longhouse, you heard someone yell Eivor’s name.

Randvi came rushing toward you, her hair unusually untamed and her face red from agitation. Eivor instinctively stepped in front of you, shielding you from whatever might come. Randvi stopped a few feet in front of you and put her hands on her hips. 

“Y/N, I think I need your help.”

You were surprised but pleased to be seen at eye level by her. You nodded and Eivor stepped back next to you, crossing her arms and waiting for Randvi to explain.

“It’s about Eda. She is refusing to eat or drink again. I fear she will not live to see another night. I have spent hours with her, trying to get her to understand why all this had to happen and why she still has a chance at a good life if she just finds acceptance within herself. She will not listen.”

Damn it. With everything going on, you had completely forgotten about your friend that was still sitting in her cell. Randvi looked seriously concerned and you could tell it was serious. It also made you realize how you had seen that none of the Vikings really wanted to harm innocents, they would fight anyone who raised arms against them but you had gone with them freely and they honored that. Randvi did not want to be responsible for the death of an innocent woman, she wanted to give her a new life here.

You nodded.

“I will speak to her, but I cannot promise that she will listen. Last time she would not even look at me.”

Eivor laid a hand between your shoulder blades and turned to you. 

“Do you want to do this now or after? I can wait.”

You thought about it for a moment, then you decided to give Eda some time to think after her conversation with Randvi. You would get your new clothes first, then you would go to the longhouse and sit down with Eda. Randvi thanked you sincerely, then she left without a word toward Eivor. She did not seem hostile in any way, but rather respectful and distanced. 

Eivor seemed to have noticed the same and was deep in thought as you made your way to the merchant’s tent. He greeted you with enthusiasm, explaining that he had already heard much about you and that he had the perfect clothes already picked out for your ceremony tonight.

He turned to the table where he had already laid out some things for you. He picked up a beautiful linen underdress for you to see. It had long sleeves and would fully cover your legs. The fabric was dyed a blue color, like Forget-Me-Nots in spring. The second dress he proposed to wear over the first one was shorter, only reaching the top of your knees, and would be held up by two straps that were secured with golden buttons on the front. It was a pale blue, like the morning sky, and there were tiny white flowers stitched into the fabric at the chest. 

Eivor explained to you that this was traditional Viking clothing. Women would wear a long under-dress and a shorter woolen hangerock or apron over it which could be embroidered or embellished with shells, gemstones, or other ornaments if the woman wearing it could afford it. Brooches could also be used to fasten the clothes to each other or to pin jewelry on them. The merchant had picked out two golden brooches with ravens on them. Three lines of red and blue glass beads were strung up between them. They were beautiful.

Eivor and Randvi wore men's clothes because they had become drengrs at a young age and of course, dresses were extremely hindering in fights. Women were generally not allowed to wear men's attire, but for anyone involved in fighting or hunting it was best to wear protective and advantageous clothing. Part of you suddenly longed to see Eivor in a dress, her hair flowing freely and adorned with flowers, her body decorated with jewelry and beautifully colored fabrics. 

Meanwhile, your drengr seemed to think of the opposite. She was browsing through some furs and thick woolen pants, testing a leather sheath for a dagger and inspecting a pair of boots.

“I wonder if I will get to see you in clothes like these one day,” she said, turning to you. Her remark caught you off guard. Had Eivor pictured you as a warrior in the same moment you had imagined her in traditional women’s attire? You thought back to Valka’s predictions for your future and had to smile at the unsuspecting woman in front of you. 

“Maybe you will. Would you teach me how to fight?”

“Would you like to learn?” Eivor gave you a surprised but appraising look, her eyes beginning to glow with a deep passion. 

The merchant cleared his throat behind you, probably worried about losing your interest in his precious goods. You turned around and gave him a disarming smile. He took a step back and lowered his head respectfully. 

“Yes, Eivor, I do,” you answered without looking back at her. “When can we start?”

-

Eivor not only bought you the dresses and jewelry without question, but she also picked out grey linen trousers with straps at the bottom that would prevent the leg from sliding up in the snow, a woolen kyrtill, a thick overtunic that would keep you warm in the cold days to come, and a belt with several pouches to carry your belongings as none of the clothes had pockets. 

She did not even flinch when the merchant named his price and paid in silver coins. He wrapped all your new purchases into a large cloth made of rough linen and Eivor took the bundle and swung it over her shoulder. 

You thanked her several times, overwhelmed by her generosity, but she just shook her head and told you that you deserved this and that she would gladly spend all she had on you. She promised to bring the clothes for the ceremony to Valka and suggested you go straight there after speaking to Eda so the healer could prepare you for everything that was going to happen.

As soon as you entered the longhouse, Randvi was with you and gave you a bowl of steaming hot beef stew with potatoes, beans, and two thick slices of bread. She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead and sighed.

“In the last few days, I’ve visited her more than a dozen times offering her food and promising whatever she wanted if she only decided to stop fighting me. The other two men that were still with her left the cell yesterday, they’re with our boatbuilder now. From what I have gathered, she usually is a very upright, smart woman, but she is also extremely hard-headed and will not let go of the things she puts her mind to, even if it destroys her.” That sounded very familiar. You wondered if Randvi had noticed she was describing herself. 

“If you can find it in you to save this woman, I would be in your debt. I cannot let her perish in my care, her life is worth too much to sacrifice it like this, for nothing.”

She gave you a solemn nod and vanished into the map room. You took a deep breath, then you went toward the back of the hall and into the side room in which the wooden cage was now empty but for a single bundle in a corner. 

Eda’s eyes were glazed and she seemed to be somewhere else in thought. Her body had dwindled into nothing but a fragile skeleton and her face was white, almost grey. Dag got up to open the door for you, but you shook your head. You went around the cell and reached your arm through the wooden bars to place the bowl next to Eda, then you sat down with your back to hers. She did not react. 

You sat in silence for a while, then you pulled your knees up to your chest and decided to try your luck.

“Eda. I have known you since the day you were born. We grew up together, we had fun, went on adventures, and learned our lessons. One thing I always admired you for is your strong sense of right and wrong. Remember when you accidentally chased one of the dogs off the edge of the hill and he broke his leg and had to be put down? You told your father the same night that it had been your fault. He raved and screamed bloody murder, but you just stood there, stone still and silent, and waited until the storm had passed.”

You had been there that night, pressed into the corner in fear as William had thrown candles and trinkets around the room, spilling hot wax everywhere and ruining one of the expensive oriental armchairs. Eda’s strength and courage had seemed unmatchable back then and it still did now, looking back at the scrawny girl with the messy braid standing in front of her father like a pillar of salt.

“I know that what happened to your family was cruel and your mother’s death was wrong, it was horribly wrong.” A tear rolled down your cheek as you said a silent prayer for the salvation of your poor, tortured mistress. 

“But it happened and there is nothing we can do about it. The storm has already passed, there is nothing left to wait for. No one is threatening you, no one is trying to hurt you. And none of this was your fault. But Eda, if you starve yourself to death now, if you leave this world” - you could not suppress a sob rising from your chest and pressed your palm to your mouth before taking another deep breath - “if you leave me, I will blame you. I will blame you for giving up, for not fighting for a better life. Your father did terrible things in his lifetime, and he paid for them. You have done nothing wrong, you do not deserve to sit here and waste away.”

You could hear Eda’s shaky breath behind you. She was silently crying. 

“Please choose to do the right thing. For me, for your mother, for Delia. You have an opportunity for a life with respect and purpose here, one without serving as an instrument for your father’s plots and schemes. You can be free. You can still live by my side. Please, Eda, please choose to be free.”

You buried your face in your crossed arms and let your tears flow freely. This could not be the end of her life. What a terrible waste that would be. 

As you turned your head slightly, you saw that there was only one piece of bread left in the bowl. Hope immediately started burning inside of you. She was listening. She had not said anything to spite you this time. You leaned your head back against the bars and waited. After what felt like hours, you could hear the spoon scrape against the wooden bowl.

“Thank you,” you whispered, filled with deep gratitude and hope for a future for your friendship. The bowl suddenly appeared next to you, held by a slender white hand. As you took it from her, your fingers touched for a second and Eda did not pull away. 

You turned around to her, crouched on the balls of your feet. 

“Can I bring you anything else?” There was a moment of silence, then a weak, raspy voice answered.

“The auburn-haired woman. Randvi. She really tried to help me. Can you send her to me? I need to speak to her.” 

Relief washed over you. Did this mean Eda wanted to leave her cell and join you?

“I will let her know right away.” 

You rushed to the map room where you found Sigurd and Randvi quietly discussing something. They were standing behind the big table, both with their arms crossed and faces filled with frustration and hopelessness. You knocked on the wooden archway to make your presence known and they immediately separated, putting the length of the table between them. Randvi gave you a hopeful look.

“Did you have any luck?”

You held out the empty bowl.

“She wants to speak with you.” 

Randvi gave Sigurd a cold look, then she nodded and came to you, taking the bowl from your hands and calling out to Sfáva, giving her instructions in Norwegian while she rushed off. 

You were about to turn away and leave for Valka’s hut when Sigurd said your name, stopping you in your tracks. You bowed your head to him and stepped closer.

“I take it you have not changed your mind? You will join our clan tonight?” He was watching you closely, his eyes squinted in contemplation. 

“Yes, Milord. I have chosen to stay at Eivor’s side.”

His eyes showed a hint of realization, then he smiled and nodded. 

“I see. My sister will take good care of you. Your three companions have also chosen to stay with us. They will partake in their own welcoming rite right after your ceremony.”

This news filled you with joy. You had known them for a long time and you were glad to have them by your side at this important moment of your life and in the days to come. You thanked Sigurd for his hospitality and generosity, then you excused yourself and finally made your way up the hill to the little cottage at the edge of the woods. 

The sun was setting earlier these days and it had already said its goodbyes for today, letting the colors around you fade to pale grey. You shivered and pulled your coat more tightly around your body. Smoke was rising from Valka’s chimney and warm golden light was welcoming you from the windows. 

You heard singing when you stepped up to the door. It stopped abruptly when you knocked, then Valka opened the door and gave you a loving smile. 

“Come in, little bird, I’ve been waiting for you!”

She grabbed you by your upper arms and steered you to a chair, kicking the door shut behind her. She had lit dozens of candles around the room and the pleasant smell of incense filled your nostrils as you looked around. Valka had dressed up for the occasion. She wore several layers of fabric and fur, accompanied by a great number of beads and brooches, chains, and pendants on leather strings. 

Her face was painted with intricate detail, black paint forming runes and patterns on her cheeks and forehead. She gave you a jug of hot tea and opened the bundle of clothes Eivor had dropped off earlier, immediately calling out in joy at the fine quality and beautiful colors. 

“You are going to make a wonderful Raven. Strong-willed and sweet-tempered, generous and empathetic, giving and driven at the same time. You and Eivor will be unstoppable.”

She asked you to stand up and gently lifted your tunic over your head, then she motioned to the back of the room in which a wooden tub filled with steaming water and dried flowers stood waiting for you. 

“For me?” You could hardly believe your luck. When had you last bathed? It seemed years away. 

Valka sang for you while you soaked in the hot bath, then she used a soft cloth to clean your body before washing your hair with pine soap and combing it thoroughly until it was free of tangles and knots. 

You lost all reservations with her, gladly standing naked in the middle of the warm, cozy room while Valka rubbed scented oils into your legs and arms before drawing sigils on your palms and feet with a red oil mixture. She also drew a straight line down your spine and a rune on each of your shoulder blades. When the mixture had sat on your skin long enough to stain it, she wiped it off with a warm, wet cloth, leaving behind reddish-brown marks. 

While she helped you dress, she explained that it was not necessary for everyone to undergo these rites before being welcomed into a clan, but because she had seen your future and because you would not only be a servant to the clan but Eivor’s right hand, she had asked Sigurd to do this her way. You were extremely grateful for her, not only because you were clean and smelled good for the first time in forever, but also because she helped to calm you down; she let you breathe and be present in the moment. 

Your hair was still slightly damp when you were fully robed and decorated with your new brooches. Valka gently ran her fingers over your scalp, massaging a small amount of oil into your roots and smoothing out your hair so she could braid it. She parted it in the middle, then she braided it backward on either side, only taking small strands from the top of your head and along your temple so the rest of your hair could fall freely. This way, it could not disturb your face, but instead hung down your back, long and shiny. 

Finally, Valka rubbed a red powder mixed with a drop of oil into your cheeks and dabbed it on your lips. She stepped back to take in her work and nodded with deep satisfaction. 

“You look beautiful, fairer than the dawn, and graceful as a dove.” You could swear that there was a twinkle in her eye. How did she come to know those things?

There was a knock at the door and Valka’s smile grew wider. 

“Come in, Eivor!”

The blonde warrior entered with snow in her hair and a confused look on her face.

“How did you know it-” She froze when she saw you, her mouth hanging open in awe.

You felt strange, as if you were suddenly a different person than you had been the last few days. You lowered your head to look at your clean, soft hands, then you gazed up at Eivor through your eyelashes. She looked like she did not know where to put her hands and finally resorted to pressing them to her chest. Valka seemed greatly amused.

“Y/N, you look…” Eivor nervously ran her fingers through her hair. “You look wonderful. People won’t recognize you.”

You did a little curtsey, partly serious, partly just to provoke a reaction from your drengr who still looked like she had been struck by thunder. Without even thinking or hesitating, Eivor bowed deeply before you. Valka was stifling a laugh. 

“Shall we, ladies?” The seeress motioned to the door and you picked up your coat from her bed. Eivor was next to you in a heartbeat, taking your coat from you and holding it open for you to slip in. Valka blew out most of the candles and let you both pass her, then she stepped out into the night behind you and closed the door. Thick snowflakes were dancing through the air and you could hardly see the rest of the village. Luckily, a few torches were lit along the path.

You walked in silence, each preoccupied with her own thoughts. You passed Eivor’s hut and asked her whether Birna was safe inside. Eivor assured you that the cat had a whole bed, a fireplace, and some fresh meat all to herself. You were just about to joke about Birna being the queen of this village when you lost your footing in the thin layer of fresh snow.

You were sure you were going to land on the hard frozen ground and have to suffer through the ceremony with a wet behind, but Eivor caught your arm just in time and pulled you up with an iron grip. She held you upright with both hands until you completely regained your balance. 

“Are you hurt?” she asked, sounding seriously concerned.

“Not at all, thanks to you.” You sighed and wiped your damp hands on your dress. “I will be more careful where I step now.”

You made it to the longhouse in one piece. Two warriors stood at the entrance and welcomed you with respectful nods. You entered first, Valka and Eivor walked behind you side by side. Most conversations slowly came to a halt as people started noticing you and you instinctively straightened up, glad to have two more strong women behind you. 

Sigurd and Randvi sat at the high table, both raising their heads at the same time to look at you and going through the same expression of wonder, realization, and astonishment. You heard someone beside you mumble the words “a queen,” someone else spoke of a “wife” which you hoped was merely a wish and not of any concern in your near future. 

Aelfric, Hal, and Lewin were standing next to a column in front of Sigurd’s table. They were wearing colorful tunics and woolen trousers and their hair and beards were also washed and freshly trimmed. Someone in the back whistled and you turned your head to see Norvid, the man who had called you “Milady” at the feast last night. 

After your long walk through the middle of the hall, you finally reached Sigurd’s table. You did another curtsey and bowed your head before Sigurd and Randvi. Eivor stepped next to you, squeezed your shoulder, and gave you a last encouraging smile before rounding the table and sitting down next to her brother. Valka passed you and greeted Sigurd before announcing that everything was prepared for the ceremony. He thanked her with a generous nod and she took your hand and pulled you with her to the other three that were waiting. 

Sigurd stood up and everyone turned to listen to him.

“Welcome, Ravenclan and friends, travelers, and merchants. Welcome to those who have decided to join us today.” He nodded in your direction. “It is a great honor to see people value our clan so much that they choose to live with us, strengthen our ranks, teach us new ways, and make Ravensthorpe a better place. I recognize you, Aelfric and Hal, Lewin, and Y/N, as equals tonight. As requested by our dear healer and seeress Valka, we shall begin with you, Y/N.” He rounded the table to stand in front of it, then he raised his hand and gestured for you to stand before him. 

A young woman placed a pillow on the floor in front of Sigurd and Valka led you to kneel there, standing side by side with Sigurd and facing you. The seeress took a small tin from a pouch on her belt and dipped her fingers in it. It was a thick reddish-brown mixture, similar to the one she had used to paint your skin earlier. 

Sigurd spoke again, his voice suddenly changing from his hard, brusk English with the strong Norwegian accent to his mother tongue, foreign and melodic. He almost sang the words, and even though you did not understand a single word, it felt like his voice was completely surrounding and encasing you, changing something deep within you and opening up your mind for the things that were to come. 

After a while, Sigurd stepped back and Valka took over. She was now actually singing, her loud and clear voice filling the room as she walked around you and sang to the bystanders who joined in with cheers and sounds of agreement. You had to hold out your hands to show the sigils on your palms and Sigurd accepted them with another verse, then you turned your hands and Valka drew new sigils on the backs. 

As you looked up at Eivor, you stopped breathing. She had a wonderful glow about her, charged from the inside with a flame burning so bright you could see it shining from her eyes, warming you through her gaze. Her face was smooth and carried an expression of complete, utter serenity and happiness. She drew her thumb over her bottom lip, then she gave you the most beautiful, genuine smile you had ever seen on her.

You, too, had to smile and lowered your head again as Valka began to sing louder, holding both her hands over your head and the people around you began singing with her. They knew the words well and you even heard a few of them sing harmonies to the prime melody. The longhouse was filled with the beautiful sound of their voices, with smoke and incense, with clapping and laughter and happiness. 

Valka took your hands and helped you up, then she kissed you on both cheeks and beamed at you.

“Welcome to the Ravenclan, Y/N. May you light our path with your grace and radiance.”

Everyone cheered and raised their horns and jugs to you, then you stepped forward to shake Sigurd’s hand. Randvi now also came around the table, a wooden bangle with intricate golden engravings in her hands. She gave you a warm smile and an almost unnoticeable nod. You both knew and recognized your places here now, your roles in relation to Eivor.

“Welcome, Y/N, to our clan. From now on you will be under our protection and responsibility.” She slipped the ring over your hand and further up until it fit perfectly around your arm just above your elbow. You could feel its warmth through the fabric of your dress; Randvi must have held it in her hands for some time. She stepped back and stood proudly next to Sigurd as everyone cheered for you once again.

You moved to the side, leaning against a column and catching your breath as your three friends stepped in front of Sigurd and Randvi. While Sigurd and Valka started singing together this time and Valka painted the backs of their hands with her red paste, you let your eyes wander around the room. You were surprised by a familiar face in the back of the hall. 

Eda sat at the end of one of the long tables, still looking frail and small, but there was a rosy tint to her cheeks and her hands held a jug of steaming hot mead. She gave you a shy smile. You smiled back, eternally grateful to see her in better spirits and no longer on the floor of that terrible cell. She must have come to an agreement with Randvi to live in the settlement, no longer as a prisoner but a guest. You doubted she would actually join the clan soon, but you were glad she was no longer hostile toward the idea of living here. 

When everyone joined into the last song that they had already sung at the end of your ceremony, you watched Eivor. She sang too, her clear baritone making its way through the room to caress your ears and your mind. There was a new spark inside you, curiosity and a great thirst for knowledge about your clan. You wanted to learn their language and their songs, their customs and stories, you wanted to know more about Eivor and her home in the north, about her childhood and her way to becoming the drengr she was now. 

Aelfric, Hal, and Lewin received their wooden bangles. The two stable men’s arm rings were made of dark wood with runes burned into the smooth surface. Lewin’s was covered in some sort of resin, maybe to protect it from any fluids and stains that could appear during his work as a butcher. 

A boy brought four drinking horns filled with ale and Sigurd waved to you over so you would take one of them, your friends doing the same. Everyone raised their drinks and for the first time, you joined into the loud, unison “Skal!”

After everyone had drunk to your health, Sigurd raised a hand and announced: “Now that we have congratulated our four new members into the clan, let us feast, let us drink and share joy and love in the spirit of new beginnings. May we warm this cold winter night with our hearts and spirits!”

With Randvi at his arm, he returned to his seat and patted Eivor’s shoulder while everyone else got settled at the tables and started passing around bread, cheese, and meat. Your friends were marveling at their new jewelry, but you only had eyes for your drengr . She noticed you staring right away and excused herself from her table, rushing in your direction and meeting you at the side of the hall, under the columns and slightly less out in the open than where you had stood before. 

She wrapped you in her arms, picked you up and whirled you around, beaming up at you with eyes full of joy. 

“My precious dove, my beautiful lady - now you are finally, truly at my side. You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

She gently put you down and left her hands resting on your waist. You could feel a few people staring at you, but you did not care and pulled her into another embrace. 

“Thank you for everything, Eivor. You freed me,” you whispered into her ear. “I belong at your side, we both know that. We are meant to be.”

You took a small step back to look at her, your heart swelling in your chest. Oh, how you wanted to kiss her. You wanted to jump into her arms and let her carry you wherever she wanted and do whatever she liked to you. You were hers. You leaned in closer, her breath going faster as your gaze wandered to her lips.

A hand on your shoulder suddenly tore you from your trance. You whirled around to see Norvid, grinning widely and opening his arms for you.

“Y/N! Welcome to the Ravenclan, beautiful young lady!”

Before you had any chance to resist, he closed you in his arms and pressed your body tightly to his. You were completely overwhelmed by the touch of this stranger, hanging limply in his arms and wondering how you would get out of this with a shred of dignity left. 

Eivor made that decision for you. She stepped next to him, grabbed his hand and pressed her fingers into the soft spot between his thumb and digit, making him cry out in pain. In one swift motion, she had pulled his arms from your waist and pulled him back with a hand in his hair, hurling him away from you and letting him fall on the floor. 

A few people around you laughed loudly at this little act. Norvid seemed utterly confused, then his expression grew angry. Eivor cut him off before he could say anything.

“You don’t touch a lady without her approval and you most definitely do not crush her like that, you uncouth brute!” She spoke quietly so as to not attract any more attention, but her words cut through the air like daggers. Norvid looked intimidated for a moment, then he huffed and got up, brushing the dust off his trousers before turning on the spot and leaving without another word. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Eivor asked you, placing a hand on your cheek and rubbing your upper arm with her other hand. “I should have never let him do that, I apologize for not seeing him coming.”

You still needed to realize what had happened, but you just shook your head. You were already losing herself in her deep blue eyes again. Suddenly you remembered Randvi's respectful nod earlier and how she was sitting next to her husband now, unhappy and alone. Alone after Eivor had ended it with her. You stepped back, freeing yourself from her touch.

“I’m sure he meant no harm. Thank you, Eivor.”

She nodded and asked Lewin to watch over you during the feast, not letting anyone else come too close or get any ideas. He promised to be on his guard, even though you told them you found that ridiculous. You were just some English girl, they would hardly pay you any attention now that you were not even an outsider anymore. 

Eivor stared at you in disbelief.

“You really have no clue, do you? You are by far the most beautiful woman in this room, the most beautiful woman most of these men have ever laid eyes on in their entire lives.” She shrugged and gave you a sympathetic smile. “I can promise you that you will receive at least a dozen marriage proposals by tomorrow night. You are all they are paying attention to.”

She went back to join Sigurd, leaving you completely astonished. Lewin gently took your arm and led you to the table where Aelfric and Hal were already devouring their meals. You noticed you were quite hungry as well and enjoyed some hearty sausages and freshly baked bread alongside the wonderfully cool ale in your new drinking horn. The four of you reminisced about your childhoods at Williamsburg and the feasts and special occasions there. 

Delia had always paid very close attention to the way she looked, often spending days leading up to the celebrations contemplating her dress and hairstyle for the night. Meanwhile, her sister had spent her time outside with you, riding your ponies over muddy fields and steep hills, chasing the chickens around in the yard, or playing ball with Aelfric and Hal. 

“Did you know Eda has finally left her cell?” you asked them and Hal almost choked on his food. 

“She’s out?” he coughed, “She’s out and no one told us?”

“Well, I am telling you now. I do not think she wishes to attract any attention. The only person she has spoken to is Randvi,” you told them and looked around for your old friend. She was nowhere to be seen.

“I think she has already retreated to her quarters, wherever she is staying at the moment. I am sure we will see her soon, let us give her some time to adjust and get her strength back.”

Hal mumbled something into his beard, but they all agreed to give Eda space to breathe. You suggested another round of the dice game they had shown you the other night, but they all immediately protested, complaining about how you had stripped them of all their belongings and left them out in the cold the last time. You laughed and accepted their sentiment - you really had taken everything from them in that last game. 

The rest of the evening went wonderfully. Someone brought a small harp-like instrument, a woman agreed to play the flute, and soon the first courageous people dared to sing, serenading you with tunes they had brought back from all over the world. A few people even made room for dancing and started whirling around, filling the room with more singing and drunk laughter. 

You danced first with Lewin and then with Valka, thanking her for everything she had done for you and for the unwavering trust and faith she had shown you from the first day on. She hugged you tightly, expressing her gratitude for you as well. You had brought excitement, new knowledge, and new life into her existence in this clan and she was happy to call you her friend. 

You were just about to ask her if you could meet her daily from now on and learn more about healing and herbs from her when she suddenly looked over your shoulder and smiled at someone behind you.

“May I?” 

The raspy voice came from behind your left ear and it made your insides melt like candle wax. Valka winked at you. 

“You may,” she said, placing your hand in Eivor’s larger, calloused one. You wrapped your arm around her neck and looked up at her. 

She seemed sober tonight, only a faint note of mead on her breath, her eyes clear and focused. Her hair was plaited back into four long braids and she had smudged a small amount of soot around her eyes. The dark tint only made her sapphire irises shine brighter. 

“How are you feeling?” Her voice was gentle and light-hearted. 

“I feel at home,” you answered. “At peace, finally.”

-

Just a heads up: this is not the end, I still have a few chapters to go! I’d love to hear what you think so far 💘

[nat-20s]

MORE things that definitely happened on the Tardis during downtime

- ABBA's gold album plays while Ten is tinkering with the console and him and Donna both scream sing along to "Chiquitita"

- This leads to:

Donna: Mamma Mia is such a good fuckin movie why did critics decry it. What did they have against fun.

Ten: Eh. I'm more into the second one.

Donna: thEre'S a seCOND ONE?!

*smash cut to them holding hands and sobbing in a theater during the My Love, My Life scene*

-Donna casually mentions that supposedly you can stick a lightbulb in your mouth but you can’t get it back out without breaking it and then she has to physically restrain Ten from doing that exact thing. 

-That gets dropped for about 2 days because they get Involved in something else but right after they’ve just had yet another near death encounter and saved people they’re both like. Are you still thinking about the lightbulb thing? I’m still thinking about the lightbulb thing. 

-they find lightbulb shaped chocolate molds and make them because otherwise it’s just gonna keep plaguing them they HAVE to know if it’s true. 

-pillow. and i cannot stress this enough. fort.

-one time they have to go grocery shopping for like. motor oil or some shit. It goes about as well as you expect for two dumbasses with too much free time and not enough impulse control

-items bought include: four(4) mega semi-automatic Nerf guns, $47.30 worth of candy, the biggest goddamn bean bean chair you’ve ever seen, a baby slitheen, and absolutely no motor oil, the thing they came for

-note: they did not buy the baby slitheen things just kind of happened and they do return it home. 

- skipping??? races??? this one is book CANON folks these two have apparently had skipping contests. Ten insists Donna cheated Donna insists you cannot actually cheap at skipping. I just want everyone to be aware of this

-One time Ten walks into Donna decorating Wilf and singing “Oh Christmas Wilf”. Conversation as follows

Ten: what’s going on? I thought you hated Christmas?

Donna and Wilf: we thought it’d be fun

*cue Ten placing tinsel on Wilf’s antlers as all three of them sing “oh how he shines so brightly”*

-Donna is poking about and finds the Tardis manual. Bored out of her mind because something something space vortex trapping them she wasn’t paying attention she reads a part of it and goes on to fix the Chameleon Circuit. Once they finally get outside and see the Tardis blending in, both of them respond with

“Wait how did you even manage to do that?” “I’ve fixed a LOT of printers in my day and honestly this was easier.”

-Ten teaches Donna to knit. Together they make a scarf for Wilf :)

-FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS!! They make them for each other and neither of them are masters at it but if anyone says anything they’re both like “Back off I’m wearing it forever”. (To this day they both have their bracelets and sometimes wear them as a comfort item, though Donna’s not sure where hers came from or why she’s so attached to it)

-Donna keeps unknowingly incorporating items from Ten’s past incarnations into her wardrobe. The Tardis will just be like *places black leather jacket in front of Donna* and Donna will be like “oh fuckin sick”. Really the Tardis is Droppin Hints and it makes Ten dsjhdsjfh every time.

-They spend a frankly embarrassing amount of hours coming up with and perfecting a secret handshake. 

[the-dream-team]

From National Treasure: ʺ In another life… I arranged a number of operations of… questionable legality. ʺ

Thank you for this incredible prompt!! This is the silliest thing I’ve ever written, so I hope you enjoy :)

Read on Ao3

In another life… I arranged a number of operations of… questionable legality

James Potter had always been a menace.

The vendors who set up their stands in Godric Hollow’s town square knew to be wary of the young boy, whose messy black mop of hair was just visible over their countertops as he skipped from booth to booth. No one was certain where he came from or where his parents might be (though Marcus, the apple harvester, swore he once saw the kid just over the hill with an unexpectedly kind older couple), but everyone knew trouble followed the boy like an obedient puppy.

It started with the usual childhood mischief. He would show up at the farmer’s market, seemingly out of nowhere, wielding twigs from a nearby tree or sometimes a cardboard sword. Always battling an imaginary enemy. Large bursts of energy mixed with childish incoordination would result in smashed crates of potatoes or torn awnings. Farmers turned red with frustration, but their wives brushed them off, absolutely charmed by those big hazel eyes behind even bigger wire-rimmed glasses. The boy would wreak havoc and get off without so much as a loving pinch on the cheek.

But then one summer, once his glasses started fitting his face and those wide eyes became more calculating, the real hijinks began. Peculiar things seemed to happen whenever the young boy made his way to the square. Marty’s carrots would suddenly appear on Andrew’s cabbage display, as if out of thin air. Abigail's piglet disappeared, then reappeared again, squealing up a storm, in Michael’s barrel of beans. Oddities popped up left and right around the child, still too small to reach the booth’s counters without having to balance on his tiptoes. The vendors groveled and knit their brows into headaches, but the boy would flash his little grin and the wives would fawn, offering up samples of their best honey or slices of freshly baked bread.

Eventually, the farmers settled into their new routine of expecting the unexpected. Until one day, when the unexpected turned into the unbelievable.

The boy was making his rounds one sunny morning, peering over the fruits and vegetables, when Helga offered him a strawberry. He beamed, reached out for the piece of fruit, and then yelped when the berry burst from his hand, transforming into a flittering hummingbird.

Those wide eyes turned to saucers as he watched the bird fly off, leaving its strawberry brothers behind in their basket. The look he flashed at the berry farmer was one of deep disturbance and the boy disappeared on the spot, leaving the rest of the vendors to grapple with what should have been impossible.

They didn’t see the boy for days, and the farmers would have reveled in the much-desired calm, but the mystery behind the hummingbird still sat fresh in their memories. But then one morning, the vendors all held a collective breath as the little boy marched down the street, directly to the town square, with a little jingling satchel in hand.

He went straight to the strawberry stand, meeting Helga with a determined stare and a gold coin in his outstretched hand. She tentatively accepted the strange looking currency and nervously handed over a basket of berries, flinching as he reached out to collect his purchase.

The boy looked at his basket, then back to Helga, and grabbed a handful of strawberries. Just like before, the berries erupted into delicate little hummingbirds and flew off through the village. The boy puffed his chest out at his accomplishment and his eyes surveyed the other booths, looking for his next victim.

The farmers were in a state of shock. Possibly a shared psychosis that could only be explained by spending a little too much time under the summer sun. They waited patiently as the boy decided who would receive his next gold coin.

It ended up being Daniel, the cabbage farmer, who watched in awe as his heads of lettuce transformed into a swarm of skittish squirrels with just a light touch of the young boy’s hand.

One by one, the strange little boy purchased, transformed, and set free an entire zoo’s worth of animals. More than one weary eye drifted to the town’s church lingering above them, wondering what kind of miracle or devil’s work they might be witnessing.

And then, he left, a litter of kittens and rabbits following in his wake.

Four years later, the boy with messy hair and glasses (that definitely now fit his face) sat in the Hogwarts dungeons with three other boys, cleaning out cauldrons.

“Bloody infuriating that they took our wands, don’t you think, James?” said the boy with longer hair and sharp features. He lazily scrubbed the same spot on his cauldron over and over, even though it had become clean ages ago.

“Don’t be daft, Sirius,” said James, pushing his glasses up his nose with the back of his hand. “We aren’t allowed our wands in detention, otherwise we’d have this washing done in a minute.”

“My mum says doing things the Muggle way builds character,” added the third boy, tucking his sandy bangs behind his ears.

“Well Remus,” responded the fourth boy with watery eyes, “the rest of us grew up not ever having to do it the Muggle way. Maybe since you’re most used to it, you can take care of the rest of these cauldrons for us.”

“Bugger off, Peter,” said Remus, throwing a very dirty washcloth and hitting Peter square in the face.

The four boys laughed together before getting back to their scrubbing.

“Oh, look who it is,” came a sneering voice from the doorway of the Potions classroom. “Potter and his gang of cowardly lions. What is this, the third detention you lot have had this week?”

“Shove off, Snivellus,” spat Sirius, throwing up a few choice fingers at the greasy-haired boy.

“Come on, Sev, don’t bother with them,” came a softer voice from behind the boy.

“Is that Evans?” called James, his interest piquing. He ran his hand through his hair, forgetting how much grime had coated his fingers during the course of the detention. When the red head girl peaked out behind her friend to see James picking out dirt from his fringe, she giggled.

“Potter, it looks like you’ve been rolling around in the mud with Hagrid’s pigs,” she said with a teasing grin. Severus shifted next to her, his eyes flashing at her playful tone.

“That might be so,” laughed James with his signature lopsided smile, “but at least I’m still not half as greasy as Snivellus, here.”

Severus turned bright red and reached into his robe pocket to draw his wand. “Lutum!” he shouted, and a thick layer of dirt coated the piles of freshly cleaned cauldrons.

The boys jumped up in outrage, but Severus had a wand and they were defenseless.

“This is bollocks!” barked Sirius, a dangerous shadow crossing his face.

“Tough luck,” smirked Severus, turning back to Evans with a smug look across his face. “Come on, Lily, let’s go practice our Pepper Up potions.” And with one last smarmy look, he led her into another classroom across the hallway.

“That’s not fair,” whined Peter, looking at his now-dirty cauldron.

James still stared at the doorway where Severus and Evans stood just a moment before. “Well, we’re not going to let him get away with that.”

“But we don’t have our wands,” pointed out Remus, who had gone back to patiently scrubbing his own cauldron.

“I have a plan,” said James simply.

“Mate, I think Remus has a point,” Sirius said with a huff. “What could you possibly do to Snape? We’re just a bunch of wandless first years.”

“Look boys,” said James confidently, “In another life… I arranged a number of operations of… questionable legality. I learned some skills back then that may prove useful in our current hour of need.”

Sirius, Remus, and Peter stared at him, matching dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

James stood and surveyed the dirty cauldrons around him and looked at his hands. He took a deep breath.

In theory, he knew what he had to do. It was just a matter of concentrating. Focusing on a goal and letting the magic burst through his fingers. There weren’t any fruits or vegetables in the dungeons, but that shouldn’t matter. Maybe when James was younger, when his imagination ran a little wilder and his grasp on transfiguration wasn’t quite as strong, he believed that animals were stuck inside strawberries and ears of corn. But James was a wizard in training now. With a few months of transfiguration under his belt, he knew that any object could become anything new.

So he paced back and forth, letting himself fall back into the mindset of being a little boy sneaking out of his family’s cottage while his parents were busy reading that morning’s copy of the Daily Prophet. He remembered the thrill of running off to the village, just as independent as any other adult visiting the market, and marching up to the stalls of fruits and vegetables and honey. He could almost smell the freshly baked bread, see the kind smiles of the farmers’ wives as they ruffled his hair and sent him off with fresh apples and oatmeal cookies.

He let himself live in those not-so-distant memories and channeled all their warmth to his fingertips as he reached out and touched the nearest cauldron.

With a flash, it became a potbelly pig.

“Bloody hell!” shouted Peter.

“Merlin’s beard!” laughed Sirius.

“Holy shit,” gasped Remus.

James sent them a crooked smile, cracked his knuckles, and swiftly got to work touching every dirty cauldron in the dungeon.

The piglets squeaked with wild energy, dripping in mud and looking for somewhere to run. And James had just the place.

He led his parade of piglets through the classroom, out the hallway, and opened up the door across the way where Severus and Evans had gone to practice their potion-making. The pigs stormed into the room with excited squeals which only intensified by Lily’s and Severus’ screaming as the pigs swarmed them.

“Sorry Evans,” shouted James over the sea of oinking, “you’re collateral damage here! My apologies for the smell, but I assume you’re used to a bit of stench hanging out with Snivellus all day!”

Once all the pigs had crammed into the classroom, trapping Lily and Severus in the far corner surrounded by muddy hogs, James quickly closed the door and the rest of the boys helped drag over a heavy bookshelf to barricade the entryway.

They grinned at each other, quite pleased by their success, and made their way back to the scrubbing brushes and washcloths.

“Well boys,” said James, his hand finding his way back to his hair, “I don’t see any more dirty cauldrons, do you?”

The others shook their heads in glee.

“Then I guess it’s back to Gryffindor Tower for us!”

And with that, they raced out of the dungeons, snickering at the shouts of their classmates, overpowered by the squealing of dozens of potbelly pigs.

[nettles-bo-bettles]

Day 1: Best Friends

Maribat War Day 1: Prompt: Best Friends

Third Person POV:

Tim Drake and Marinette Dupain-Cheng have been best friends for as long as they can remember. It all started when they were five years old. Tim had been running around Gotham at night pretending to be Robin when he found Marinette scavenging a dumpster for food and perhaps clothing.

“Hi! What are you doing in a dumpster?”

“Oh...I’m looking for food and maybe new clothes if I can find any.”

“How come? Why in a dumpster?”

“Well, my parents died or left me before I was born...I’m not really sure but I’ve been a street kid all my life. I usually find everything I need in dumpsters.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t usually get to spend much time with my parents, they’re always busy but they let me do whatever I want and I usually got everything I need at home.”

“I’m sorry too, it’d probably be worse to have neglectful parents rather than dead parents.”

“It’s alright, I still got a roof over my head right? That’s why I feel bad for you. You don’t seem to have a roof over your head.”

“Yeah, I don’t but I’m used to it.”

“Hey! I got an idea! Why don’t you come stay at my house?”

“But wouldn’t that be intruding? And I don’t even know your name or anything about you.”

“Oh, I forgot about that. Well, I’m Tim Drake! My parents are Jack and Janet Drake, though, they’re always busy so you probably won’t see them around very often and I’m trying to figure out who Batman and Robin are!!!”

“I’m Marinette! I don’t know who my parents are or what my last name is and I think you’re pretty cool!”

Throughout the days Tim and Marinette spent together they grew closer, they were almost attached to each other by the hip. The only time you wouldn’t see the two together would be when they went to sleep, had to change or went to the bathroom. They named each other as best friends and swore to never leave the other’s side.

One day when Tim was sick and couldn’t go outside Marinette started wandering around Gotham again. Eventually it turned night and she started to head home, though, she got stopped by three adult men who looked to be drunk and in their mid-thirties, Marinette, at the time was 8.

The men were clearly about to rape her so she got into a fighting stance and got ready to teach them not to mess with 8 year olds, right before she punched the middle guy someone swooped in and knocked them all out. The mysterious person patted down the men, seemingly looking for something. Once the mysterious person found what it was Marinette discovered that this person was most likely only there for stealing valuable items from drunk men.

Although she was right the mysterious figure turned to her and looked her up and down, seemingly looking for signs of injury.

“Are you okay little kitten?”

“Uh yeah I guess I just stayed out too late, who are you?”

“I would’ve thought you would’ve known but I’m Catwoman, and you little kitten seem like you can be quite the feisty one.”

“Well I mean I was about to punch those guys but you got here before I got the chance.”

“How do you feel about me adopting you and you being my little kitten sidekick?”

“Um...I don’t want to leave my best friend. Can I talk to him about it first?”

“Of course little kitten, just meet back here tomorrow if your friend is okay with it.”

“Okay!”

And with that Catwoman left Marinette. Marinette walked back to her home and thought about what Catwoman had said. She went to her room and got ready for bed, contemplating about whether she would even want to accept her offer. A few minutes of thinking about it she decided that she did want to accept it and went to bed.

The next morning Marinette woke up and did her usual routine, grab an outfit for the day, take a shower, go to the bathroom, get changed and meet Tim out in the hallway.

“G’morning Tim!”

“Morning Bean!”

“So last night I ran into Catwoman and she wants to adopt me but I immediately remembered our promise so I wanted to run the idea through you before making a final decision about letting her.”

“I say go for it, we’ll still see each other all the time right?”

“Yeah!”

“Then go for it!”

“I will! I’ll let her know that you said that!!!”

They continued talking while walking down the steps and on the way to the kitchen for breakfast. Once in the kitchen they grabbed their usual breakfast foods, Marinette got her usual froot loops and Tim got his usual yogurt.

The day went on as usual until it was 8pm and it was time for Marinette to go back to the alleyway to meet with Catwoman. She grabbed a good amount of clothes and her favorite pair of shoes along with some slippers and put them in her backpack. She left and said goodbye to Tim, telling him that she’d see him the next day. Little did they know that they wouldn’t see each other until they were 15 due to Catwoman training Marinette to fight and to flirt for when Batman got a new Robin.

It was the day after Catwoman had adopted Marinette and Tim was waiting in his usual spot where he met with Marinette, however, she didn’t show. He went back inside, disappointed that his friend ditched him. He decided to try again the next day, and the next, and the next. This went on for three weeks before he decided to give up. Years passed by quickly and Tim was now thirteen and in the beginning stages of growing into an adult. One day he wandered around Gotham City and bumped into Bruce Wayne, the older man saw something in the young boy and decided to adopt him. Tim’s parents agreed to the adoption, though, they weren’t paying much attention.

When Bruce adopted Tim he told him about all of his nightly activities and asked if he would like to become Robin or to watch everything from the batcomputer. Tim chose to be Robin and Bruce gave him two years of training for it. Eventually it was time for Tim to go out as Robin for the first time and it ended up being against the Riddler. However, a few hours after the Riddler incident there was a robbery going down because of Catwomen who had broken into a jewelry store and stolen thousands of dollars worth of diamonds...at least that’s what she made them think. In reality she just wanted to see Batman and introduce her little kitten to Batman’s new Robin. And it worked. Catwomen’s new apprentice was going to use the tricks that Catwoman had taught her with flirting and everything but the minute she saw Robin she knew it was her old friend, Tim Drake. The one who she would trust with her life with no hesitation, the one she missed oh so much, the one that she would give anything just to see again.

“Long time no see Marinette.”

“I missed you so much, I thought I was never gonna see you again.”

“Me too, that day after you got adopted, and you didn’t show up I- I was devastated. And when you didn’t show up any time at a later date I just gave up all hope to see you again.”

“So...you’ve grown taller.”

“And so have you…”

“This is awkward so I’m uh- I’m just gonna go.”

“Yeah..OH WAIT!”

“Yeah?”

“Can we exchange numbers so we can still be friends?”

“Oh uh sure.”

The two teens exchanged numbers and went on their way, deciding that it was too awkward to continue being in the same place. Soon though, they ended up texting each other every night, they grew closer to each other yet again and the next time they met they ended up becoming inseparable.

One day, Selina decided to bring Marinette to the Wayne’s so she could meet her adoptive mother’s close ‘friend’. When they arrived at the Manor they were greeted by Alfred who welcomed them in. He led the women into the living room where Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson and Tim Drake stood. When the youngest of the Waynes saw Marinette he immediately ran up to her and hugged her.

“Um- Tim, buddy why- how do you know Selina’s adoptive daughter?” Dick asked his younger brother.

“Oh, we used to be best friends when we were little until I got adopted by Selina.” Marinette answered for him.

“Yup, she’s my best friend who also happens to be addicted to caffeine and an insomniac just like me,” said Tim with a grin on his face.

Dick and Bruce wanted to get to know Marinette better so everyone socialized for hours until eventually the Waynes had to kick Marinette and Selina out as they had to patrol Gotham soon.

~Time Skip~

It had been a year since Marinette and Tim got reunited and they were hanging out at Selina’s house and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Soon, however, there was a knock at the door. Marinette opened the door to see who it was and surprisingly it was child services.

“Your name is Marinette Kyle correct?”

“Yes that’s me.”

“I apologize for any inconvenience but you’ll have to come with us because Selina Kyle is not fit for having a minor under her care. A couple in Paris, France has taken interest in adopting you so you will be moving there to be under their care for the next two years until you are a legal adult, you will then be able to move back here if you wish to do so.”

“Wait- WHAT?!?! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!!!”

“I’m afraid I can and it’s going to happen. Please come with me. And, young man if you could please inform Ms.Kyle of what has happened here.”

“I- but- she- she’s my best friend, my only friend you can’t take her.”

“Sir I’ve already explained everything please don’t make me do it again, now once Ms.Kyle arrives back home please inform her of what has happened here today.”

The man grabbed Marinette by the arm and took her with him, he drove to the airport and watched as she went into the plane.

After a long flight Marinette was finally in Paris. She got off the plane and the french couple who adopted her walked up to her and asked if she was Marinette. She said yes and they took her with them to their home, it was a bakery on the bottom floor and an apartment on the top floor. They took her to the room they set up for her, it was insanely pink but she didn’t say anything about it. A few days later she was enrolled in Francois Dupont Highschool, though she made many friends it wasn’t the same as Tim. Years passed and she moved back to Gotham, when she did, however, she couldn’t find her long-time best friend.

Eventually she did find Tim and they became closer than ever before, she met his other two brothers and his sisters and became their honorary sister. It was a few days before Wayne Gala and Tim still didn’t have a date, he told his coworkers who were going to be there that he would have a date but he still didn’t...until he got the best idea, ASK MARINETTE!! And so he did. He asked her to pretend to be his girlfriend for his coworkers and like the good best friend she is, she said yes.

They went to Wayne Gala pretending to be dating and managed to fool everyone, however, during the middle of the Gala when Bruce was introducing everyone, the Riddler decided to show up. He chose Tim to give his riddles to and told him that if he got any of them wrong that he would kill him. Marinette was just hoping that he was going to get them all right.

First Riddle, he got it correct.

Second Riddle, he got that one too.

Third Riddle, he got it again.

Fourth Riddle, and again.

He got them again and again and again. Eventually he was on the 15th riddle, the last one. At this point everyone was holding their breath. He answered it...but he got the answer wrong. It was wrong and before Marinette could even comprehend the fact that he got it wrong, Tim was dead. The Riddler had shot her best friend, he was gone, forever. Her best friend since she was five years old was gone. She would never get to make any more memories with him, all the time she had with him was over, she had too much to say and not any time to say it. He was gone.

[tsumugisindulgence]

Stay for the Night

Since your first day in the Devildom you were disgusted by how often Mammon’s brothers picked on him. They are demons but to channel their hatred onto one person was not by nature, it was by choice and you were sick of it. “So shitty Mammon wouldn’t stay in his room when the newspaper came to interview me today. Ugh I mean how inconsiderate can you be? He is the absolute scum of all three realms. Like are you trying to purposely ruin my image? Not that he could, after all I am perfect but still how dare he!”  Asmo whines about Mammon’s presence in his own home. You knew you could use your pact to shut him up but the issue ran deeper. At that moment you decided to stand up to each brother the moment they dissed your first man. Asmo took a deep breath to blow his nails dry and you slapped him, leaving him surprised. “Oh dear I didn’t know you were into that. Do it again.” he winked. “Quit talking down about Mammon. I am sick of it.” he laughs. “It’s all in good fun dear, don’t worry he can’t even hear.” you stand up from the chair across from his. “Yeah well I can. And you should know something.” You enunciate each word carefully. “Talking trash about people that care about you makes you ugly.” You storm off leaving him flabbergasted. Only a few hours later you caught Levi doing the same thing while you were gaming with him. “And I was like you are more pathetic than a level one boss. Rotfl! He was upset but that newb was going through my limited edition directors cut TSL movie series. I don’t know how you can stand him. He’s worse than the antagonist in My brother is a piece of shit and I can’t wait to kick him out because he is the absolute worst.” For a moment you pondered if his anger was valid but it’s not wrong to look through people’s movies unless it’s Asmo’s sex tapes. “Levi I think it’s endearing that you’re an otaku but the one thing about you that absolutely disgusts me is how comfortably you insult Mammon without him doing anything actually bad.” You stomp out of his room and run into Mammon himself. “Whaha doin human?” For awhile now you’ve had feeling for Mammon that were developing past friendship. It was a challenge to portray this without him being a tsundere. “Hey Mammo chan. I had to leave Levi’s room he was pissing me off.” He squinted his eyes at the door a few meters behind you. “What did he do to ya?” you could tell he was getting aggravated thinking about Levi upsetting you. To calm him down you place your hand on his shoulder. “I’m okay now that you’re here. I wanna talk to you though.” he begins wringing his hands nervously. “Wha-what did I do this time?” You beckon him to follow you and he does reluctantly until you’re outside his room. “Don’t worry I’m not mad at you. Can we talk in your room though?” he places his hand on the knob and opens the door for you. “Phew. That was a close one. Not that I was scared!” you plop down on his couch and he sits across from you. “Levi said you were looking through his TSL movie series. What’s that about?” Once again he gets nervous and starts waving his hands. “It wasn’t like I was trynna take it! I was just looking I swear! I don’t care about that stuff or whatever.” His reluctancy to look you in the eyes made you suspicious. “I think you do. You know if you want to rewatch it with just me this time you could’ve just told me and saved yourself the trouble.” He huffs and crosses his arms. “As if I’d admit that!” His eyes widen at his statement, realizing he inavertantly admitted it. You snicker. “H-hey what are you laughin at human?” Now was a perfect opportunity to spend time together without his brothers. At least you thought. “MAAAAMMMOOOON!” Lucifers voice booms through the door and probably the rest of the house. Mammon jumps ups and hides before the for is kicked open. “If you know where Mammon is I suggest you tell me this instant.” You roll your eyes. “What did he do this time?” “If you must know I had a vintage roast in the cabinet worth thousands of grimm.” He crosses his arms and stares at you. You mimic his stance. “I used it.” He looks at you with fury waiting for an apology or explanation. “Asmo showed me a diy face scrub recipe that called for rough ground coffee beans. I figure it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.” He raises his eyebrows and gives you a look. “Bold. This better not happen again otherwise I won’t forgive you so easily.” He turns around to leave Mammons room and you grab his cape. “I’m not done with you.” He scoffs and takes his cape back. “If you with to discuss this further I’ll be in my room.” He walks out and lets the door shut behind him. Mammon stands up. “Woah you totally stood up to him and didn’t even get threatened to be strung up in the hall.” You walk closer to him and grab  his hand. “I want to finish my conversation with Lucifer. I’ll be back when I’m done. Wait for me?” he blushes and looks away. “Alright not because you asked or anything human. I just don’t have anything better to do.” You laugh at his response and walk out. Thinking about how poorly Mammon is treated by his brothers makes you clench your fists. You were no match for a demon but you would be damned before you let this continue. “I can’t believe you all. You’ve lived with him for years and still haven’t learned to accept his sin.” you mumble walking down the hall and you stop when you hear Satan call your name. He sensed your wrath and decided to check on you out of curiosity. “Is something wrong? It look like you’ve just left Mammons room. What did he do this time?” Your body reacted before you could use reason. Your hand struck his cheek, it didn’t hurt him much at all. You meet his surprised yet inquisitive gaze. “You are all so awful to him! Imagine if I treated you the way you all treat Mammon! He didn’t do anything! Lucifer pissed me off when he accused Mammon of stealing something.” He adjusts his stance. “I understand being upset with Lucifer, but why does it bother you that Mammon was accused. He probably stole it anyway, he’s the most plausible suspect.” You clench your fists even tighter. Through gritted teeth you hiss. “I took it. You bastards always blame him and I’m sick of it.” You walk past him and stomp down to the eldest brothers room. He look up from his desk as you walk in. “I have a bone to pick with you.” You sit in the chair across his desk. “I am sick of you always blaming Mammon. You guys do anything you possible can to beat him up. You degrade him because of his sin. That’s something he can’t completely control. I am aware he could handle his urges better but I doubt you have ever tried to help him in a manor that he would understand. Instead you freeze his card and call him a piece of shit whenever he gives into an urge. Ever stop to think you’re the shitty one for treating him that way. I know your sin is pride, therefore you have this massive ego. Nobody ever criticizes you for being a pompous ass at times. I haven’t even been here for an entire year and I see how you all go out of your way to make sure he feels like shit. I think Beel is the most respectful to Mammon and he still puts Mammon down occasionally.” you continue your rant for a few minutes and take a deep breath once you feel like you’ve gotten everything off your chest. He sits back in his chair slightly surprised about your perspective and how brave you were to scold him. “I see. That’s quite a new view. You haven’t had to deal with him as long as we have. I’m sure you would do the same if you spent a millennia putting up with him. It’s admirable that you have the courage to stand up to me like this. If it is that big of an issue I will possibly consider changing my actions. Doubtful but possible.” You storm out of his room furious that you couldn’t get through to him. On your way down the hall you see Mammon peeping at you from around the corner. When you lock eyes he looks away. Your heart hurts for him. He’s a good demon and you wish he was loved by his brothers. “Mammon what are you doing?” He sheepishly steps out from behind the corner. “You were in there awhile. I figured I should check on ya since I’m in charge of your safety n stuff.” You smile knowing that’s his way of saying he’s worried about you. An overwhelming desire to make him feel loved hits your chest. You’ve had a crush on him for awhile now but he was no resistant to reciprocating affection. Probably because his brothers made him feel like he’s undeserving. That night you sit on your bed flipping through one of the many magazines Asmo gave you with your earphones in.  A message on your phone interrupts the music. Mammo Chan- Where are ya?You- In my room. in under a minute he walks through your door in his pjs. A white tank top and black drawstring pants. You look up and take your earbuds out. He rarely shows this much of his body outside his demon form, which you also rarely see. He has such a nice figure and beautiful skin. To you everything about him was attractive but he was sculpted by god after all. He walks over to your bed and tells you to scooch. “What’re we watchin tonight?” you toss the magazine aside and pick up the remote, happy to spend time with him. “Do you guys have access to human television?” He thinks about it for a second before answering. “I think Levi knows how to connect it. Why ya askin?” “There are a few shows I think you would enjoy. I’ll text him and ask how to do it.” After figuring out how to connect to human television you pull up Pawn Stars. You could tell by his expression he was hooked instantly. He was sitting criss cross on your right leaning forward towards the tv. It’s beginning to drop in temperature as the nights in the Devildom were extremely cold to you. You leave the bed and head over to your dresser. Mammon looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. “Where are ya goin?” He was afraid you were going to leave even though it was your room. You pat his head to ease his worries. “I’m getting cold so I was gonna grab a hoodie.” He sits up straight. “No worries the great Mammon will warm you up. C’mere human.” He beckons you towards him. As you move he pulls back the blanket for your bed and lets you climb in then sits at the edge of your bed. You were hoping he meant cuddle but it was silly of you, he wouldn’t make the first move. So you would have to. You sit up and tug on his pant leg. “Can we cuddle?” His cheeks heat up and he looks anywhere but your eyes. “Yeah sure but only to warm ya up.” The way he stiffly laid next to you made you wonder if he has ever actually cuddled someone or if it was just you. “Can you move like this?” you position his body into the little spoon position and he goes quiet. After all his yeas alive he’s never been in a situation like this, he’s laid with succubi after sex but he was the big spoon and always woke up alone. It hurt to imagine falling asleep with you only to wake up alone. He didn’t want to think about it but he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but your body embracing his from behind, your breath on his neck and your fingers drawing random patterns on his arm. He really liked you and didn’t want to screw anything up like he usually does. He began to worry if this was a prank set up by his brothers. You noticed his body was still tense after a few minutes. “Are you okay? Am I making you uncomfortable?” He sits up and laughs nervously. “Alright which one of my brothers set you up to this? Asmo?” You frowned that he thought you didn’t genuinely care about him. You sit up and move closer to him and look him in the eyes. “Mammon, I  know I only met you a few months ago but I like you.” He puts on his bravado attitude. “Of course you would! Any human is amazed by the great Mammon” You wanted him to take this seriously but you also knew he built walls of false confidence in hopes of making himself feel like more than what his brothers call him. “No Mammon. I like you as in I want to kiss you, go on dates with you, cuddle with you, support your goals. I want to show you that you are so much more than what you think. You’re caring, thoughtful, hardworking, obedient, helpful and so much more.” His eyes tear up behind his glasses. “You don’t mean that. You’re just messing with me aren’t ya?” Frustrated that your words aren’t getting through you take action instead. You push him down on the bed, prop yourself up over him and kiss him. He freezes for a second before kissing back. You’d be embarrassed to admit how many times you’ve thought about doing this with him. His hand moves to your lower back and pulls you onto his body. Now that you aren’t using your hands to steady yourself you run your fingers through his hair. He is insanely good at kissing you. You pull away breathless. His face is no longer fearful but at peace. He’s the first to look away. “I didn’t know ya meant it. Heh why me. I’m the worst of all my brothers.” You cup his cheek and make him look at you again. “You’re my number one man. I wouldn’t want anyone but you. I like you, flaws and all.” His face melts as if this is the first time anyone has ever said that, and it might be. He pulls you into a hug so tight you couldn’t move. He placed his face in the crook of your neck. You feel something hot and wet fall onto your skin and it registers. He’s crying. You lay there on top of him only when he releases you do you notice he’s in his demon form. The awe in your eyes cued him. “Oh um I didn’t mean to. Gimme a sec.” Your arm shoots out to him. “NO!” He whips his head around. “I mean I never get to see you like this. Can you stay like this a bit longer?” “Y-yeah.” He sits there embarrassed as you eye him over. Once you’re satisfied you tell him. “Why’d you turn?”  His usual bravado is gone. “It’s not like you were making my sin act up. I just wanted to.” You interpreted what he was saying, ‘I got greedy kissing you and slipped into my demon form.’ You giggle “Cute.” he switches back. “Hey! I’m not cute! I’m a terrifying demon!” “My terrifying demon.” You smile  at him and he stares at you in awe before his bravado comes back. “Prof course! I’m your first and most powerful!” You remember that the tv is still on. “Oops looks like we missed the rest of the episode.” “NOOOO!” he dives over to the tv repeatedly pressing the backwards button but it does nothing since it’s on a channel. You stand up and walk over to him. He’s on his knees hugging the tv. You tussle his hair and turn to get a sweater now that you’re out of bed. While you’re at your dresser you decide to change into pjs. You figure Mammon is still preoccupied with the tv that he won’t see you. You were wrong. Just after you take off your jeans he turns and begins to ask you a question before letting out a yelp upon seeing your underwear. His hands quickly cover his eyes and he turns away. Now he certainly isn’t looking. After changing you pull his hands off his eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you warn me you were changing?” You shrug. “I figured you were distracted. It’s not a big deal I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of ass in your life.” “Well I mean yeah but you’re my human not a succubus or angel. You’re different.” You smile at his unintended compliment. You crawl into bed under the covers and snuggle in. “Mammo-Chan will you turn off the tv and lights if you head back to your room.” “Whaddya mean if?” “You can stay here tonight.” “Where am I s’possed to sleep huh?” You pull the cover back a little and pat the bed space next to you. “Oh well I guess I should so I keep ya warm.” He starts to walk over. “Turn off everything before you come to bed.” “Oh yea.” He does as you say before climbing into bed with you. You fall asleep on his side with your arm over his chest. 

[pallasperilous]

Funny Bone

The other day Supernatural9917 threw out this meme as a cracky Halloween Dean/Cas prompt and I was SO MAD, because I then had to write it:

And so here it is. Goddammit.

Funny Bone

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761150 Words: 4930 Castiel/Dean Winchester Fluff and Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Skeletons, Bad Pick-Up Lines, No Angels AU, Men of Letters Bunker, Mild Gore Mature (mentions of lewd acts, canon-typical violence, and some truly horrible pickup lines)

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland. It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

Discovering the bunker in the first place was a helluva surprise. The whole facility is legitimately batshit; Dead Guys of Letters knew how to live (and, apparently, die. All at once.).

But after plowing through a dozen rooms worth of priceless treasures and crusty boobytraps, even Sam was looking kinda full up on shock and awe.

“We can hit the basement tomorrow,” he said. There was a big smudge of dust across his nose and some cobwebs in his hair.

“Nuh uh,” Dean answered, kicking the door shut with the toe of his boot. “If there’s shit still kicking down there, we gotta clean it out before it cleans us out. It’s that or we’re sleepin’ in the car.”

“Ugh,” Sam said, as if twenty minutes ago he hadn’t been losing his mind over a rare book about werewolf hemorrhoids.

So discovering that the basement included a no-shit actual dungeon felt more like an unanticipated bonus, and stumbling across a skeleton while exploring it barely even registered. Skeletons and dungeons! They go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong.

It wasn’t even a particularly creepy skeleton; it was in kind of a “just chillin’” pose on the floor, inside a big circle of greasy black ash.  It looked a little mildewy in in places. One ankle was still locked up in a heavy iron cuff, at the end of a short chain leading back to the wall. Snoresville, as dead stuff goes; Dean’s seen worse at Disneyland.

It was the skeleton’s comment about Dean’s ass that really livened things up.

“Welp,” Dean had said, holstering his gun and wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re all clear. Let’s head back upstairs, salt the shit out of everything, and then we can pick up some groceries.”

“Do I get to buy a vegetable that doesn’t fit in a bun, or are we still in the refractory period?” Sam snarked from the corridor.

“I don’t see you cookin’, “ Dean started, shuffling back towards the hall, and that’s when the skeleton butted in.

“Are those astronaut pants?” it asked. “Because your ass is outta this world!”

Dean absolutely did not scream, but it’s possible there was a yelp. 

He almost unloaded a clip into it – unclear what that would’ve possibly done, but it’s good to start with the simple, available solutions. Next he nabbed the lighter fluid off of Sam and dumped out half a pound of kosher salt as a chaser and set the fucker alight.

This does not have the intended effect.

“Baby, I’d like to put my meat on your grill,” the skeleton says, greenish flames dancing between its ribs, “because you’re hot, and I’m smokin’.” Then it sits up a little, just enough to shoot Dean some finger guns.

“What the fuck,” Dean says.

Sam makes a little evaluatory noise. “Sexually harassed by a skeleton,” he chuckles. “I think that’s a new one. Even for you. Is that a new one? I know a lot of strange shit went down in Purgatory.”

The skeleton perks up even more at that, grungy eye sockets sweeping up and down Dean’s body. “Are you a time traveler?” it asks. (Maybe he asks, because the voice is pretty deep and dude-ish, although possibly just on account of its vocal cords being leather shoelaces.)

“Wh…no, I’m not a time traveler,” Dean fibs. He’s more of a time trafficking victim, anyway. “Oh, wait, god,” he says. “Please don’t tell me you’re asking that because –“

“– I can see you in my future,” the skeleton finishes, eagerly, and Dean really wishes this thing had eyebrows so he could tell if they’re waggling.

“Yeah, okay. That’s enough for today,” Dean groans. “I need a drink.” He starts to back out of the room as a pre-emptive strike against Bones commenting on how he hates to see Dean leave, but loves to watch him go. Dean’s working on stumbling back again Sam’s left shoe when the skeleton pipes up one last time, this time with a husky, anxious edge.

“I realize that Purgatory isn’t accessible through a simple chronological shift,” it says, teeth chattering. “But it does require travel between modalities, and if you’re capable of that, I would very much like to speak with you again.”

Dean and Sam’s heads slowly swivel back towards the skeleton, like two little pizzas on the same Lazy Susan.

 An hour later, they’re still in the dungeon, working on dousing the skeleton with every possible anti-bad-stuff solution they’ve got, just in case he’s a vampire skeleton or a ghoul skeleton or a witch skeleton or maybe just a wendigo that’s incredibly bad at its job. In between progress reports, he’s still hitting on Dean.

“Dude, don’t you have an off switch somewhere?” Dean asks him.

“Well, Dean, you certainly make me feel like a light switch,–“

“– because you turn me on,” all three of them say in unison.

The skeleton looks a little embarrassed, which is kind of impressive when you think about it. “You’ve…heard that one before?” he asks.

“I spend a lot of time in bars,” Dean deadpans. “Okay, sage is a no-go.”

Sam strikes a line off on the clipboard he found upstairs. “Is this part of a curse or something?” he asks, glancing up at Bones. “Like on top of being a sentient skeleton, you can only speak in horrible pickup lines?”

The skeleton shakes his head, which produces a sound Dean recognizes from his kneecaps on cold mornings. “No, the spellwork allows me to speak freely on most subjects; except who I am, or how to free me. But it’s helpful to use language modern humans can easily understand.”

“Huh. Well, in a way, it is Dean’s native tongue,” Sam says, smirking.

“You shut your face,” Dean hisses.

“When I first saw you, I lost my tongue. Can I try yours on for size?” Bones asks Dean.

“Buddy, I don’t know where you get your information from, but nobody actually talks that way,” Dean tells him. “Nobody sober, anyway. Who isn’t a virgin.”

The skeleton slumps. “I learned from my last visitor. He tried to release me on several occasions, but he either died or abandoned the project.”

Dean arches a brow. “The project being…you?”

“I would be very valuable under the right circumstances.” The skeleton shrugs and casually holds out an arm for Dean to scrape at with the demon blade. “He gave me lessons in modern vernacular as a way to pass our time together.”

“Sounds like a peach,” Dean says, before he can catch himself. “If you have a peach-related pickup line in there, man, you’d better just sit on it.”

“That’s what-“

“I will smash you with a hammer,” Dean barks.

The skeleton relents, but with obvious reluctance.

 They call it quits before Kansas rolls up the sidewalk for the night and leaves them stranded with nothing but two Clif bars and a gross of septuagenarian cans of franks ’n beans. Bones shifts nervously when Dean leaves – “Which is better, pancakes or waffles?” he asks.

“Pancakes,” Dean says, with a sense of grim duty.

“Because I’d like to know what you’re making me for breakfast,” says Bones, his voice trailing off as Dean books it down the stony corridor.

  By lunch the next day (bologna sandwiches, so sue him, he’ll make something good later) they’re pretty sure that Bones doesn’t pose any known, immediate threat – other than to Dean’s sanity – so they switch gears to springing him. Maybe he will be worth something, or maybe he’ll crumble into dust and Be Free, or maybe he’ll just stop being chained to the basement wall, in which case he can become their skeleton butler or something.

There are weird runes on the ankle cuff, so Sam snaps some quick photos and heads upstairs to feel up the library. This leaves Dean in the basement with Bones, some good old-fashioned power tools, and Bones’s ex-suitor’s gross sense of humor.

“You know I can understand you just fine when you’re talking normally,” Dean says. “You’re just reciting some prehistoric shit that idiots say to girls to get a pity-laugh, hoping it leads to a pity-fuck.”

“What’s a pity-fuck?” Bones asks, all mildewy innocence. Dean’s pretty sure the grunge in his eyeball sockets is dried eyeball.

“Pretty much what it says on the tin, my guy,” Dean answers, and reaches for the acetylene torch.

 “Enochian,” Sam says, when Dean surfaces for another sandwich and possibly a beer. He’s really disappointed about the torch.

“Gesundheit?” Dean replies, around a mouthful of bologna. Like everything else here, the kitchen is pretty schwa, although the inside of the fridge required three exorcisms and half a jug of bleach.

Sam paws around the smelly old book in a way that makes Dean feel sorry for the girls Sam dated in high school. “The symbols on the cuff. I think they’re Enochian. It’s a fake celestial language made up by some sixteenth century con artists.”

Dean coughs up a bit of Wonder Bread. “I respect the hustle, but what’s it doing on an ankle cuff in a dungeon younger than Mickey Mouse?”

Sam frowns. “Well, it could be for show. But just because some nutbars made it up doesn’t mean it’s totally powerless. Maybe it does have some kind of…heavenly mojo.”

“Liwl probbem,” Dean observes, finishing off his sandwich. “Def nuh heggen.”

“Huh?”

Dean takes a swallow of beer. “I said: there’s no heaven.”

Sam shrugs. “We didn’t think there was a Purgatory, either.”

“Okay, but if we find out angels are real,” Dean snorts, “then Bones can fuck me in the ass.”

 Sam reports his findings to Bones, who sits placidly on the back of his pelvis, carpals splayed out on his kneecaps. What’s even holding him together? Dean can see what’s left of his ligaments, but they look like petrified gas station jerky.

“Do you know what they mean?” Sam asks him, pointing at the sigils.

Bones’s jaw creaks open a little, then closes again, and then he shakes his skull (something rattles inside.) Finally he makes a little frustrated noise and replies – “Baby, are you a book? Because I’d like to check you out.”

“Hey!” says Dean. “Keep it in your pants, man, I’m right here.”

Sam squints. “I think…Dean, I think he’s trying to tell us something, but the spell on him means he can’t say it directly.”

Bones clenches his fists, releases them, clenches them again.

“Yeah. Keep him talking. Let’s see how close he can get.”

Clack clack clack.

“Uh,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. Do I need to, like. Give you some kinda opening?” he asks Bones.

“Sweetheart, I’d like nothing better,” Bones answers, then clacks his knuckles on his brow with exasperation.

“Sorry, Christ. Hit me with your best shot, buddy. Dealer’s choice.”

Bones clears his…ghost throat? and tries: “Tell me, Dean…did it hurt?”

Dean blinks. “When I…fell from heaven?”

Sam claps his hands. “Fucking knew it. It is Enochian, and it does have something to do with this. I think he wants me to check the library for another book. Maybe there’s one misshelved or something that I can actually use to translate. Or I can Google around, maybe there’s a subreddit.”

Dean’s pretty sure Bones has never heard of a Google or a subreddit (for that matter, does Dean actually know what a subreddit is?), but it seems like there’s a glimmer of hope deep in those scum-holes.

 Sam gets translations for a few of the words – “obedience” and something he’s fifty percent sure means “millstone” – but the rest is still gobbledygook, and he hasn’t come down with another update in hours. The dungeon is pretty roomy, but it’s not like there’s a foosball table or a cable TV pickup down there, so Dean and Bones wind up lying on the cold-ass ground, staring up into the dark reaches of the ceiling together and, like. Chatting.

Occasionally Bones goes quiet and Dean glances over at him. He really could just be a totally normal, completely dead dungeon skeleton. A good power washing and the right mounting hardware and he’d be ready for a high school biology classroom.

“So if these runes are a celestial thing, does that mean you’re some kinda demonic...thing?” Dean asks. “Cause I gotta say, you’re a much less of a douche than the demons I’ve met.” He snorts. “I know you probably can’t say.”

Bones sighs (how? With what lungs?). “The last person who tried to free me was a demon.” He shifts a little, maybe surprised that he can say this out loud. “It had been so long since somebody had spoken to me…I’m afraid I came close to actually enjoying his company. But he was no better than his kind usually are.”

“Don’t suppose you caught his name? Maybe Sam or me killed him for you already.”

“He called himself—no, I can’t say it.” He makes a sound resembling a harumph.

Then his skull creaks over to look at Dean. “Does your name start with ‘C’?” he says, very deliberately.

Dean is momentarily puzzled, but he works it out by the time Bones wincingly adds “…because I’ve got a D that wants to come behind you.”

There aren’t too many demons under the “C” tab in Dean’s blood-stained mental rolodex, and when he says the name out loud, Bones makes a sound like an entire set of dominos being thrown down a spiral staircase.

  Crowley is pretty pissed, which is fun.

It’s nice that the dungeon floor already has a perfect trap on the floor; they don’t even have to hit up Ace Hardware for paint. A damp shop cloth and a little nail polish (Wet ’n Wild in “Red Red,” don’t leave home without it) brings it right up to working order.

“Why does it smell like a nail salon fucked a bloody wine cellar?” Crowley says, after he’s settled down a bit. He manifested right in the creepy torture chair (in the shackles, even! What service!) and he made some escape attempts followed by angry noises about rust stains. Now he’s recovered his dignity and has kicked back a bit, legs crossed, fingers steepled, oozing maximum levels of 2 cool 4 school.

“How do you know what a nail salon smells like?” Dean retorts.

“I get a monthly mani-pedi. There’s no shame in a little self-care, boys.” Crowley’s eyes trickle down to their feet. “Imagine what fungal horrors those work boots must conceal.” Then he squints, and looks up, finally taking in the whole room. “Could swear I’ve been here before. Little upscale for you, isn’t it? Did we splurge for a vacation rental?”

“Crowley, why don’t we roleplay Titanic?” Bones growls from the wall behind him, and Crowley’s face goes slack. “I’ll be the iceberg, and you can go down.”

Crowley swallows and slowly twists back, as far as the shackles let him. “Feathers, is that you? Well, as I live and breathe.”

“You do neither,” says Bones, with so much gravelly contempt that Dean suppresses a little shiver.

“Oh, I still breathe now and then, when the mood takes me. I’m a sentimentalist.” Crowley cranes his neck a little harder and squints into the dim. “Goodness, you’ve dropped some weight since we last spoke, haven’t you. Finally let go of all that pesky soft tissue?”

Bones tilts forward and kind of clatters onto hands and knees, then tipsily begins to rise up to standing. Dean’s a little concerned he’s gonna topple right over and they’re gonna spend the next two hours collecting him in a basket, but when he moves to help out, Bones waves him off. After a couple false starts he makes it up onto his feet bones and then shuffles out to the end of his chain, right under one of the overhead lights. He’s still a good couple feet off from Crowley, but Crowley looks like he wouldn’t mind a few extra acres.

Bones sways a little bit, just enough for Crowley to wince. “You didn’t come back.”

“I got busy.”

Sam shifts impatiently. “What is he?” he snaps, gesturing at Bones.

“Exceedingly dull,” Crowley says. “I should’ve guessed you were friends.”

Dean uncorks a fresh bottle of holy water.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Crowley amends, quickly. “And even if you did, you wouldn’t know what to do with him. It’d be like giving a laptop to a pair of howler monkeys.”

Dean puts his thumb over the mouth of the water bottle and holds it over Crowley’s head. “Try me.”

Crowley scoffs, rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he is, since he’s useless as long as he’s chained up. And I wouldn’t have left him down here if I had a single clue how to smuggle him out.  I haven’t even been in here since the Bay of Pigs; I’d worked a loophole in one of the defense spells here that let me in. When it broke down, I lost my exploit. Wasn’t worth the bother after that.”

Dean slides his thumb a millimeter north of a perfect seal, and a fat drop of water busts its ass open on Crowley’s forehead and sends up a thin line of steam. “Good thing I’ve got a limitless supply of bother,” Dean notes. “Sam, we still got those syringes in the trunk?”

Crowley snarls. “Go ahead and melt me like the cartoon shoe in Roger Rabbit, it’s not going magically make me come up with a solution.”

Bones grunts and rattles his leg chain. “Do you speak Spanish, Crowley? Because you look like the Juan for me.”

“Did I teach you that one? You absolute xylophone.” Crowley glances back at Dean. “Do your worst, Squirrel, I deserve it.”

Sam frowns. “He uses the lines to get around the spell’s speech restrictions. This is something about speaking languages…were you able translate the Enochian symbols on his cuff?”

Crowley blinks. “What symbols?”

 After a whole lot of faffing around with mirrors and terrible cellphone photography, they confirm that Crowley can’t see the symbols at all.

“More demon-proofing. Clever little buggers, those Men of Letters,” Crowley sighs. “A real shame they were peeled and eaten like bananas.”

Finally Sam just hunkers down with a pencil and pad to transcribe the entire ankle cuff, and Dean awkwardly holds up Bones’s ankle, like he’s being sized for a glass slipper. When they shove the results in Crowley’s face, Dean watches his eyes dart along the words.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, boys. Along with the usual wankery, there are instructions on how to release the cuff. I can translate it,” he finally says, with an unusually low inflection of bullshit, “but I’ll thank you to release me, first.”

Dean is flummoxed. “What, you’re not gonna haggle for a cut of the profits or anything?”

“Activating the release mechanism will free him completely, and restore his…restore him. I’d rather be at a safe distance.” He glances back at Bones, looming in the shadows. “A continent or three should do the trick.”

“If it doesn’t work–“

“I’d be more worried about what happens if it does,” Crowley sighs.  “But feel free to summon me back for tea and sympathy. Here, I’ll even give you my number. But please, no personal photography. I pity you enough as it is.”

  Crowley finally smokes out, and Dean has a beer to celebrate while Sam looks over the list of what they need and Bones clatters his fingertips like castanets. The ingredients are (as always) larded with shit that’s exotic and expensive; Sam is looking crestfallen at some of the items. “I’ve heard of all of this, but I’ve only seen maybe half of it for sale anywhere.”

“Baby, are you a yard sale? Because you’ve got some serious junk in that trunk,” Bones monotones. He’s back to lying on the floor.

At least it’s getting easier to translate this shit. “They’ve got all the ingredients here somewhere,” Dean says. Sam looks skeptical. “C’mon, Sam, no way these dudes would use a lock when they didn’t have the key.”

The ensuing scavenger hunt takes a few pints of elbow grease, but at least by the end they’re both familiar with the Bunker’s floor plan, document filing system, and inventory records. They find virtually everything in-house, though they do end up driving to the nearest farm stand for some hen’s eggs and rosemary (and heirloom tomatoes, because they look bomb).

Dean christens – or maybe exorcises – the kitchen range with some red meat, and they fuel up with burgers before taking the plunge. Dean’s still licking the ketchup off his fingers when Bones pipes up one last time. “Can I ask you something?” he says.

Dean and Sam brace for impact.

Bones sighs. “That’s not the start of a pickup line. I genuinely have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why are you so intent on freeing me? You could have just left me down here. I’m not a threat this way. You only have Crowley’s word that you might profit - or suffer - from my release.”

Sam gives Dean a look; it’s the look that says I sure hope you have an answer, because I think this entire thing has been dumb as shit and half as necessary. It’s a look Sam uses pretty regularly.

“Uh. It’s the right thing to do? As far as I can tell, you haven’t hurt anybody or done anything else to deserve being down here. We went through all those records upstairs, and there’s no note that says ‘by the way, that skeleton downstairs eats babies for breakfast.’ This place is cool, but the dudes who built it were obviously shady as fuck.”

“I see.” Bones sounds a little disappointed.

Sam fake-coughs into his hand, and Dean sets down his paper napkin. “Also, you seem cool. Like, you’re easy to hang out with. Other than the stinky one-liners, and we’re gonna wean you off of those.”

Bones straightens himself out a little. “Thank you, Dean. You know, on a scale of one to ten, I’d rate you a nine.”

“Okay, okay. Why not a ten?”

Bones sets his chin on his knuckle bones with a tidy little clack. “Because I’m the one you’re missing.”

Dean groans, but he thinks the guy might be smiling, somewhere behind that skeletal grin.

 By hour two, Sam’s pretty tuckered out from pulverizing a billion and three mummified dove livers while reciting nonsense syllables, and Dean’s right arm is about to fall off from holding up this giant silver swizzle stick that’s either a really weird short sword or a decorative javelin, but Bones has never looked perkier. He’s lying on a nice white bedsheet and looking fresh as a recently exhumed daisy.

“Okay,” Sam rasps. “Light the candle and we should be good to go. Any last words, Bones?”

“Are either of you religious?” He crosses his arm bones over each other.

“Fuck no,” Dean answers, before Sam gets a chance to launch into it.

Bones shakes his skull fondly. “You should reconsider. Because you’re the answer to my prayers.”

Dean makes a gagging noise and lights the candle.

 What happens next (well, after the cuff pops open) is some of the freakiest shit that Dean has ever seen, and his Freaky CV is pretty fucking impressive, thanks. Bones tells them to avert their eyes, “just in case”, but he takes a peek between his fingers anyway, because he’s an idiot.

For a second Bones is just lying there, and Dean has a second of real disappointment that maybe he’s Moved On Past The Veil or something, but then he starts…foaming. It starts out kind of uniform and colorless, but then it really picks up speed and volume and starts to separate into swaths of distinct and horrible colors and textures. He closes his eyes again for a second to give his stomach a chance to reboot, and when he looks again the foam is gone, and instead there’s a whole lot of angry jelly trying to form into organs.

Just as the jelly is really getting its shit together and looking more like lungs and intestines and stuff, the heart-jelly pulses once and sends out a fistful of big squishy vines…veins? and a fat white worm of nerve scrambles down the spinal column and starts putting out franchises. This is followed by some disturbingly tasty-looking red sheets of muscle that swiftly sheathe over all the whole scene, and then the muscles start sweating out fat and cartilage and this is the point where Dean decides that looking away is actually definitely one hundred percent for the best. Even then, the sounds are tough to handle.

Kinda wild: he’s seen people taken apart, but watching one get put back together is somehow gnarlier. Well, if this guy is even a person. It’s a human skeleton, sure, but god knows even Mickey Rourke has one under there.

Finally everything seems to have quieted down.

“How you doin’ over there, Bones?” Dean asks, and dares to take a peek.

Bones is crouched down in front of them, fists balled up in the bedsheets (it’s a relief that the bedsheets didn’t get accidentally sucked into the muscle layer or something, like one of those surgeons who leaves a sponge behind). Dean sees white guy skin and some dark messy hair and gets the gist of a decent build.

The face slowly cranes upwards, and Dean is really truly ready for anything here; tusks, fangs, Klingon forehead ridges, gingivitis. Instead he gets a faceful of hot math teacher. Bones’s eyes are still closed, but he’s frowning like he’s mentally reviewing his strategy to explain the quadratic equation to a roomful of horny teens.

He slowly rises to standing (yikes! Naked! Dean is a Moderately Bad Man, so he glances, but just long enough to register “nice), uncurling slowly and carefully.

Then he’s all the way up. Bones squares his shoulders and straightens the last kink in his spine, and the frown resolves. Dean’s about to say something, when his eyes snap open, and this cold white light absolutely blasts out of them, and fuck, Crowley wasn’t kidding: this guy is definitely A Thing. The whole room flattens and distorts in the light. Shadows race up the walls like they’re looking for a way out, then snap together into the shape of enormous ragged wings, stretching thirty feet higher than the actual ceiling clearance.

Then the light dies down; the wings fade into regular-grade shadows. Instead of a terrifying unearthly avatar of Oh Shit, Dean’s looking at a buck naked thirty-something math teacher. Who happens to be an unearthly avatar of Oh Shit. And has nice eyes.

“My name is Castiel, angel of the Lord, Seraph of the First Shield,” the avatar says, in a piss-shakingly resonant version of Bones’s voice.

Then: “Do you speak English, Dean?”

“Yes?” Dean fumbles.

“So do I,” says Castiel, and smiles.

Then he makes finger-guns.

  Castiel sticks around for a grand total of five minutes before he’s suddenly gone again, because angels are (a) real and they can (b) teleport? at (c) any moment because (d) fuck you, then he reappears six hours later (clothed) standing over Dean’s bed, having apparently forgotten that humans like to sleep; this time Dean does shoot him, but luckily he doesn’t seem to take it personally.   

“I located Crowley,” Bo- Castiel says. The silver sword-javelin thing is sitting on the kitchen counter in front of him; apparently it’s an Angel Blade and it lives in Castiel’s coat sleeve and can vaporize demons. It doesn’t look like it has any Crowley on it, but maybe it’s self-cleaning.

“Did you kill him?” Dean asks, now that he’s semi-coherent and wrapped around a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

“Not this time,” Cas answers. “He did help, after all.”

“Sure,” says Dean.

“You don’t need to let me fuck you in the ass, either,” Castiel says, and Dean honks some coffee up the back of his nose.

“Oh,” he gasps. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. Didn’t realize you could hear that convo all the way down there.”

“Angels have excellent hearing. Mine wasn’t impacted by the spell.”

Dean can think of at least three very private moments Castiel almost definitely could hear every instant of, and longs for death. Or maybe not, since apparently this guy lives in Heaven and could hear him there, too. “Great. Good to know. Noted.”

“But…” Castiel looks wistful.

“What?” Dean nudges him. Dean Winchester: angel nudger.

Castiel frowns. “If I said…” he stops himself. “This is…what I want to say is very irregular, at least between angels and humans.”

“Jesus christ on a goddamn pogo stick, man. It’s three in the morning, some of us have a circadian rhythm and a limited lifespan. Say whatever it is you gotta say.”

Castiel looks up and drowns Dean in his swimming pool eyes, which Dean has learned belong to a radio ad salesman in Illinois, who Castiel possessed a few years back before jumping several decades into the past to run some errands and getting rope-a-doped by the Men of Letters and then warehoused in their basement; after they all spontaneously bought the farm, he just slowly ran out of the power reserves needed to keep his vessel from turning to mush and hey presto, talking skeleton.

Classic story, really.

“If I said you had a beautiful body, Dean,” Castiel says, solemnly, “Would you hold it against m-“

Dean doesn’t let him finish. {AO3 version}

[thewritewolf]

After the End Chapter 25: Study

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@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“So is this everything you’ve got from daddio?”

Adrien looked at the mountain of paperwork, spread across folders and binders and ledgers, stacked precariously in his father’s old office, then looked back at his best friend with disbelief.

“Did you want more to go through?”

“Chill, bro. Just tryin’ to get the lay of the land, ya know?”

Alya put a hand on both of their shoulders. “Don’t worry, this is more than enough to work with. Let’s just start going through all this with an eye for detail and see where it takes us.”

“I just don’t know what we’re hoping to find.” Adrien let out an exhausted sigh as he pulled up a seat and grabbed a stack at random. “I’ve been pouring over this stuff for months now. What else could there be to find?”

“Adrien, my chaton, I think the world of you, but you don’t have a deceitful bone in your body.” Marinette took up a spot near him and took a ledger. “Besides, you haven’t exactly been in the best mindset while you’ve been on your own.”

“Having a bunch of extra eyes lookin’ at this stuff is only gonna do us some good. I’d bet my hat on it, bro.”

“I’m hoping you’re right.” Adrien’s eyes went distant for a moment as he frowned at a paper in front of him. “Otherwise, I don’t know how we’re going to tackle the Gentlemen.”

The next hour was spent with each of them pouring over documents from the elder Agreste, from anywhere between fourteen years ago and a month before the battle that ended his life. Despite his fears that it would be another tedious slog like it had been the first time, the off and on conversation with his friends kept things lively. At least, as lively as they could be while they were digging through his dead dad’s stuff.

With Marinette sitting so close to him, he was the first one to realize that something was up. He noticed that she was flipped back and forth between two pages, her nose crinkling in the way that he’d long come to associate with intense focus while she was in the mask.

He craned his neck to look at what she was, but it just looked like some internal memo from a couple years ago. There were vague memories of him looking through it weeks ago but it was just another dreary Agreste communication.

“Something up, m’lady?”

She held up one finger without looking up. By this point the others had started paying attention to her. All three of them waited for her to finish whatever it was she was doing. After a few minutes her eyes widened and she gasped.

“That’s it!” Her eyes locked onto his. “There’s some kind of message hidden here!”

“Wait, are you sure?” Adrien leaned over her shoulder but didn’t see anything out the ordinary.

“Yes!” Marinette pointed out a couple words in the middle of the memo. “There are a couple letters that have been randomly capitalized here.”

“Well, Nathalie was usually pretty overworked so I’m not too-”

“But its not just that! There is a lot more paragraphs than what a tiny memo like this would really need. And if you pull out all the capital letters from each paragraph…”

She sketched some notes on the side. Spaced out like she said and with the letters in place, they almost looked like a small sentence. A sentence with completely jumbled up words, but still.

“Okay…” Adrien felt a spark of excitement. He hadn’t expected to find something so quickly. “What do we do now then? It doesn’t make any sense like it is right now.”

“That’s where we come in.” Alya took the paper from Marinette’s hand. “Nino, M - keep digging through those memos. Adrien, find as many of those as you can to pass to them.” Alya pulled out her phone and began typing furiously. “And can you give me any important words that your father might have used as a cipher?”

After another hour of frantic work, they’d compiled a few whole papers of transcribed secret messages. They’d even pinned down that the only ones with messages were memos on the Wednesdays of each week, for whatever reason. And eventually Alya cracked the code - naturally, the magic word had been ‘Emily.’

Working as a team, they managed to get an entire one sided conversation decoded.

“Any idea where the other half could be?” Adrien said as they finished up.

Alya shrugged. “No clue. But these were internal memos, right?”

“Yeah…”

“So the Gentlemen had to have at least one person on the inside of the company.” Alya frowned and tapped at her chin.

“I’d bet that he also had them respond from the inside then too.”

Nino gave him a confused look. “What makes you say that, bro?”

“He was a control freak. There was no way he’d let it go out into something he couldn’t control, like the newspaper.”

Alya frowned in thought. “You might be onto something there, but we don’t know for sure right. We’ll have to make do with what we have right now.” She looked over at Marinette, who was pouring over the notes that they had made. “So… what’s it all worth, M? Was it worth two hours of our time?”

Marinette nodded slowly and looked up at them with her lips pursed into a thin, pale line. “This was without a doubt worth the effort to get it.”

“Well don’t keep us in suspense, girl! Spill the beans!”

“They’ve been working on this for a while, but basically?” Marinette took a deep breath. “They’ve got pieces of the old Guardian monastery and are using that to turn off kwami powers.”

They exchanged looks with each other.

“You’re… gonna have to explain that to us, girl.”

Marinette rubbed her temples. “Okay, so the Guardians are responsible for taking care of the miraculous, right?”

“Yeah…” Adrien glanced at the other two, who were just nodding along.

“Well, Hawkmoth wasn’t the first time a chosen has gone rogue. So they made their main base out of stuff that was pretty resistant to the powers of the miraculous. Or, well, they enchanted their stained glass and masonry to be that way.” She looked at Adrien. “If you tried to Cataclysm their building at the height of their power, it would have absolutely no effect.”

“But didn’t they get wiped out by an amok?”

“Yes - the powers of an amok, not the miraculous itself.”

“Seems like a pretty big flaw,” Alya said, crossing her arms.

“To be fair to them, those powers are both the hardest to account for, and have the miraculous holders easiest to take out in a one on one fight. After all, the butterfly and peacock miraculous don’t help much in a direct battle - they’re only good for attacks from a distance.”

“So - what?” Nino rubbed his temples. “They nicked some old rocks and that makes ‘em supes powerful?”

“Something like that.”

“Wait.” Adrien held up a hand. “Didn’t the old monastery get restored by the Ladybug cure years ago? Wouldn’t the monastery have resisted that?”

“Apparently the enchantments wore off a lot, and they had to spend years restoring them.” Marinette smiled. “But you’re right - the monastery is back. Which means they won’t be able to get more pieces of it, at least not without fighting a bunch of mystical warrior monks who know this stuff way better than they do.”

“But where does that leave us now?” Alya asked, elbows on her legs as she leaned forward.

“It means two things.” Marinette held up one finger. “First, it means that we know what these… let’s call them lodestones will look like. Old masonry, maybe something glass or jewel-like.”

Adrien’s eyes flew open. “Like that egg the Gentlemen dropped to get out of the alley!”

“Exactly! And two,” she held up a second finger. “Once their current stock is gone, they have no way of getting more. I’m also going to bet that they won’t be keeping all their lodestones in one place - between each one being a huge source of protection, from what I understand of Guardian magic, having them charged like this and too close together would break them. ”

“So… where do we start, then?”

“The lodestones need to be activated to work, and I doubt they’re going to keep them turned on all the time even though we know where they are.” Marinette started pacing. “And we know that since Chat’s transformation didn’t immediately drop that powers active before the lodestones are introduced are unaffected.”

Marinette stopped and grinned at them.

“I have a plan.”

[jeranasblog]

Caught in the Spider’s Web

Rating: E

Pairing: Peter Parker/ Tony Stark

Summary: Omega Peter is obsessed with famous Alpha Tony Stark since he was a little kid and he does everything to get close to the billionaire. When he finally gets the opportunity to get to know Tony better, Peter starts his manipulation and seduces the Alpha into his bed. Thankfully, everyone around him thinks he's cute and innocent, so it's even easier to catch Tony in his web.

Line Prompt for @twokinkybeans​: "It only takes a blowjob to fall in love." This challenge is amazing, ty beans <3 

Warnings: Slight dubcon? Both of them want it, but Peter is still manipulating Tony. For further warnings (especially smut) check Ao3

Words: 7160

Read on Ao3

Peter Parker had admired Tony Stark since he was a little boy. In the beginning, it had been hero-worshipping. Iron Man was a legend, and the man behind the mask even more. Peter had bought little action figures, had decorated his walls with posters, and watched every single interview on TV. Tony Stark was an impressive Alpha, broad shoulders, protective aura and Peter had never understood why he had wasted his time with Pepper Potts, a plain and boring Beta.

But the older Pete got, the more obsessed he became. He spent his mornings looking at photos of Iron Man online, fingering himself while he pictured the Alpha’s muscular arms caging him in. The day Tony left Pepper was one of the best in Peter’s life and he had imagined for weeks how he would cheer the billionaire up, imagined that he could replace the empty space in Tony Stark’s heart.

During his first heat, Peter refused the help of an Alpha. He had plenty of options, eager young students that wanted to wreck such an innocent-looking Omega, but Peter wanted to save himself for Iron Man. No one else deserved his virginity, so he made do with his own fingers, thinking about himself bouncing on Tony Stark’s cock.

Years passed and Peter’s obsession only grew. He got older, became even more handsome, even more fragile looking and lots of Alphas tripped over their feet to woo Peter Parker, cutest Omega in Queens. But he turned all of them down. There was only one Alpha, only one person good enough for him.

Sadly, Peter had never met Tony Stark before. He had imagined how their first encounter would go, how easily he could enchant the Alpha with his soft looks and innocent eyes. He worked years to get finally close to the other man. Peter invested his entire energy into studying and became soon the best of his class. With fifteen, he graduated high school and applied to MIT. Three years later, he hadn’t only gotten his bachelor’s degree, he also held a letter of Stark Industries in his hands. Soon, he would be the youngest intern in the history of SI, soon he would be close to Mr. Stark.

Peter knew it was very unlikely he would meet the billionaire on his first day of work, but he was disappointed, nevertheless. A boring Alpha had shown him around, drooling over Peter and it took all his willpower to hold back his disdain. Instead, he had smiled sweetly and asked questions to appear interested. He needed a plan to get closer to Mr. Stark and before that, he shouldn’t do anything he could regret later.

His approach to get closer was based on his intelligence. Tony had once said during an interview that he preferred his partners smart and witty, and Peter planned to use the information. He stayed in the lab longer than everyone else, worked harder and harder to get the recognition he needed until one day, he finally got the opportunity he desperately needed.

Everything started when Pepper Potts, still Tony’s CEO, entered the lab, loudly arguing with an unimportant Alpha at her side. Peter had wanted to hate her first, but she was still one of Tony’s closest friends, and there was no way the Alpha would like him if Peter displeased her. After a while, he could even see that Pepper had no more romantic feelings for Tony, and his instincts to fight her were eased a little.

“We don’t need it in a week,” Pepper yelled and the pathetic excuse of an Alpha flinched. “We need it tomorrow. And there’s no way Tony can fix it until tomorrow. The investors are gonna pull back their offers.”

Peter pretended to be busy while he was actually eavesdropping. “I-I’m sorry, M-Mrs. Potts,” the Alpha’s voice was wavering, and Peter suppressed a snort. How could Pepper give responsibilities to such a weakling? “I told him a week ago, but he didn’t listen.”

Pepper was slowly losing her temper. “You told him once while he was tinkering. What did you expect? Him throwing everything aside to listen to you.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter wouldn’t wonder if the Alpha started to cry.

“You’re sorry? You're not the one explaining to the investors why the battery of the Stark Phone explodes occasionally. I have to live with the consequences.” Pepper fumed and Peter had to admit that she was feisty, for a Beta. “When the temperature is above ninety degrees, they sometimes blow up. Do you think the investors will like this?”

Peter froze. He didn’t focus on the Alpha flinching under her harsh words anymore, instead he thought about Pepper’s words. He knew about the problems with the Stark Phone, knew for a long time they would explode if they got too hot. Peter had assumed someone had already eliminated the mistake, but apparently, no one had. Suddenly, his entire body started buzzing. He knew how to get rid of the problem and this was his chance to get what he wanted.

“I know why they explode, and I could help eliminating the issue.” Pepper and the Alpha were staring at him, Pepper with curiosity and the Alpha with disgust.

“I don’t think an Omega could help,” the Alpha belittled him, and Peter clenched his hands to fist to stop his anger from spilling. He had to stay calm and play his cards right.

Thankfully, Pepper took over before Peter did anything he would regret later. “Since you’ve fucked up anyway, I’m willing to try everything to fix this thing.” Peter couldn’t stop himself from smirking at the Alpha. “What’s your name.”

“Peter Parker, Ma’am.”

“Peter, I’ll give you a few minutes with Tony. If you convince him you can fix the mistake, we’ll pay you a bonus.”

Oh, if she knew. A few minutes with Tony Stark were so much more valuable for him than any extra cash. This was everything he had ever dreamed of. Five minutes to convince Tony Stark that he was worth spending time with. Suddenly, Peter felt nervous. The direction of his entire life would depend on the encounter with the billionaire and he would do anything to make a good impression on the Alpha.

He smiled kindly at Pepper and followed her to the elevator. She was tense and stressed out, but he could also see the hope in her eyes. If he did everything right, she would be forever thankful and that’s exactly what he needed from her. Her first impression of him was important.

 Tony Stark’s lab was impressive. It was nothing compared to the intern lab Peter worked in, even though all of SI’s rooms were well equipped. The Omega swallowed when he entered the room and marveled at the expensive equipment that was scattered all over the floor. From a hidden spot in the corner, Peter could hear a loud crash followed by a few curse words.

“Tony, come out for a second,” Pepper called the genius and Peter held his breath when the Alpha approached them.

He was handsome, even more handsome than he was in the million pictures that were all over the internet. Tony was wearing jeans and a black tank top, his muscular arms on display. Peter could barely stop himself from purring and he ogled the oil strains on the billionaire’s forearms. Tony Stark looked like a model from the cover of “Alpha’s Health” and Peter wanted nothing more than to claim the man as his. But there was still a long way to go.

Suppressing his arousal, Peter smiled innocently at the Alpha and ducked his head. The gesture was a submissive one, giving Tony the illusion, he was in control. Peter watched in excitement that Tony was looking him up and down, his pupils dilating a little. He could see a faint gleam in the billionaire’s eyes, making it obvious that the man liked what he saw.

“As much as I like lovely company, Peps, why are you bringing me a young Omega? I have to work on the Stark Phone issue.” The words made Peter heat up in arousal and he covered his body reaction with an innocent blush. He wanted to jump the billionaire, wanted to ride him, claim him and bounce on his knot, but he would be nothing more than an easy fling if he misplayed the situation. Instead, he focused on looking bashfully.

“Tony, this is Peter Parker. He’s one of our new interns,” Pepper explained while she was already halfway leaving the room. “I’m sorry, but he claims he knows the source of the problem with the phones and at the moment, we need any help we could get.”

Before Tony could assume that he was a stupid Omega with attention issues, Peter took the lead. “It was very thoughtful of Miss Potts to bring me here. I’ve actually detected the mistake a few weeks ago and just assumed someone had already fixed it. My apologies.”

“That’s my cue,” Pepper barged in, giving the billionaire no time to complain. “I actually have a call scheduled with the investors. I’ll pick Mr. Parker up in an hour. Don’t kill him, Tony.”

The Alpha grumbled when she left, and Peter took a deep breath to get his nerves back under control. This was it. This was the moment he had always waited for. The Tony Stark stood in front of him and if he made a fool out of himself now, there was no chance for his plan to ever work out. He had to be clever, smart, and irresistible.

Peter gave him another sweet smile and the bobbing of Tony’s throat showed him that he should try the innocent approach further. The billionaire was certainly reacting to him acting bashfully.

“All right, Peter.” The Alpha didn’t even ask if he was allowed to use his first name. “I’m pretty busy, but I’ll give you a chance to show me where the problem is coming from.”

These words coming from any other Alpha would have offended Peter, but since he was talking to Tony Stark, he let the casual use of his first name slip. This was his chance to prove himself and he wouldn’t sabotage his goals because someone was underestimating him. He would show the billionaire what he had worked for.

“Do you have a Stark Phone here?” Tony nodded and led him to the other end of the lab where the billionaire had been before. Peter used the time to get a good look at his ass. It was muscular and round, perfect to dig his nails into when Stark was fucking him through the mattress. The thought made Peter shiver and he took a deep breath, containing himself and focused on the task on hand.

“The solution is pretty simple,” Peter explained while he stepped next to the Alpha in front of the workbench. He came a little too close, so Tony would pick up a hint of his scent. Peter knew Alpha’s went wild for his smell, he had tons of unworthy men going crazy for him, and he always knew how to use his assets right. Out of the corner of his eyes, Peter could see Tony’s nostrils flare, clearly not unaffected from the scent, but otherwise, the Alpha stayed calm.

Before he could lose himself further in the thought, Peter picked up the faulty Stark Phone and opened the case with a small screwdriver. He disconnected a few wires to take out the battery and laid the electronics of the phone open.

“I’ve actually detected it when I was working on increasing the storage capacity. Do you see the solder joint here? First of all, it’s too big and the material was a bad choice. When it gets hot, the solder joint will melt again and possibly cause a short circuit. That’s the reason why the battery can but doesn’t have to blow up when the phone gets too hot.”

Tony stared at him amazed before he threw back his head and started laughing. The sound was deep and full, rushing immediately into Peter’s cock and he had to bite his own lips to stop his hole from slicking up. There was no way the Alpha wouldn’t notice him getting wet and it wasn’t the time for his seduction plan yet.

“That’s pretty embarrassing,” the billionaire chuckled and grinned at him. “Such a rookie mistake. Whoever made the mistake should go back to school immediately.”

Peter swallowed and chose his next words wisely. He had certainly made an impression on the Alpha, but it wasn’t good enough to linger. “Mr. Stark, Sir. If I might suggest an improvement?”

He could see surprise in Tony’s gaze, but also curiosity. “Sure, go along.”

“What if you replace the battery in a few Stark Phones with your arc reactor technology? Obviously not for every model because the price would increase significantly, but there are a lot of rich people who want to contribute a part to the environment. Your clean energy in a phone is an amazing solution. And on top, the board would get accustomed to your invention, as well as the shareholders. It would be an easy possibility to establish the arc technology.”

The Alpha didn’t say anything. He stared at Peter and the Omega could see that he was pondering about it. He had done a lot of research about the billionaire and he knew Tony was fighting with the approval of the board since he had closed the weapon manufacture. Nothing was more important to him than to prove that SI was a valuable company even without the shady business, and Peter had given him a suggestion to strengthen the reputation of his arc technology.

“I’ll consider it,” Tony answered, and Peter smiled bashfully, pleased that he had played his cards right. He wouldn’t hear anything more than that today, but he had proven his first point: Peter was smart enough for Tony Stark. Now there was only one other goal: Show Tony Stark that he was irresistible.

Peter congratulated himself for his subtlety. After the billionaire had made a few calls and yelled at a few people to change the solder point of the phone, there was still half an hour left until Pepper would come back to pick him up. He spent the time chatting with Peter and showing him some of his inventions while the Omega could physically see that Tony reacted to him.

Every time he blushed and batted his eyelids, Stark’s eyes sparkled; every time he played with his curls, Stark’s expression was filled with hunger. Peter made a game out of it, acting all bashful and innocent while he bent over low to pick up the screwdriver he had accidentally dropped. He had years of experience, manipulating Alphas he didn’t even care about, but today was the day it had to work. Today was the day Tony Stark would be enchanted.

They talked about engineering and their studies at MIT. Tony had more experiences, but since Peter had done a ton of research on Tony Stark’s work, he could easily keep up. With each passing minute, the billionaire relaxed further and further in his company and when Pepper picked the Omega up again, Tony had even given him his private number, promising to call Peter when he needed his help again.

Peter felt like a spider and he would do anything to catch Tony Stark in his web. The Alpha was his.

 Now that Tony Stark knew who Peter was, things got easier. He didn’t need to make an effort for the man’s attention anymore since the Alpha was staring at him anyway when they saw each other fleetingly. Instead, Peter focused on riling the man up. He knew a few minutes every day would be enough if the impression lingered.

The most important step was to meet the billionaire overall. Peter worked in the intern lab on the second floor while Tony’s lab was right next to his penthouse, so they wouldn’t see each other accidentally. And since Peter wasn’t even allowed to enter the top floor, he had to think about a plan that forced the Alpha to come down. When he overheard one of the board members complaining about Tony’s mood because his coffee machine was broken, Peter got an idea.

The Omega came to work early, so no one had arrived yet. The lab was empty, the hallways were empty, and even more important, the kitchen was empty as well. He tiptoed to the coffee machine and exhaled relieved when no one was there yet. Quickly, Peter replaced the cheap beans with Hawaiian brew and from now on, he spent his breaks drinking expensive coffee in the kitchen, waiting until the rumors about the amazing coffee spread. Not even a day later, Peter saw Tony again.

“Peter, what are you doing here?” Everyone was looking at the Omega when the Tony Stark addressed him by his first name.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter gave him his sweetest smile that made all the Alphas swoon. “I’m working on this floor.”

Tony looked startled for a second, he had probably forgotten that Peter was only an intern. “Right. What are you working on?” Although the billionaire was talking to Peter, he eyed all the other Alphas in the room. A surge of hot arousal rushed through Peter’s body, but he pushed the feeling away before everyone could smell his slick. Seeing the Alpha already so possessive over him woke the urge to smirk and climb him like a tree.

“Still on the storage capacity of the Stark Phone. I’ve made progress, but it’s slow because I don’t have enough resources.” He batted his eyes innocently, acting as if he wasn’t following a goal. Say it, Alpha. Come on, offer it to me.

“You can use my lab if you want,” Tony offered, and Peter had to suppress a complacent smirk. It was so easy to manipulate Alphas as long as he acted sweet and innocent.

Peter opened his eyes widely and feigned shock. “But Mr. Stark, I can’t accept the offer. I would only distract you.” You want it too. Say it, Alpha.

“Nonsense, it’s spacious enough. Let’s go upstairs.”

Tony led him out of the room, his hand placed on Peter’s back. He could feel the heat through his shirt and enjoyed the first victory of the day, knowing that he had Tony Stark exactly where he wanted him. All eyes followed them, Alphas envious that Tony Stark had snatched the cute looking Omega away, and the rest envious that Peter could leave with Tony Stark. Peter felt euphoric, everything went according to plan and it was only a matter of days until the Alpha was his, until the country's most eligible bachelor was wrapped around his little finger.

 Although Peter wanted nothing more than to throw himself at the man, he took it slowly. Tony might show signs of arousal, ogling Peter, and his scent turned spicier, more masculine, but the time wasn’t right yet. Peter needed him crazy with arousal, so he kept acting innocent while he stepped up the game.

It started with his scent. Every morning Peter would finger himself, spread his slick between his thighs, and clean himself after, but a hint of his arousal was still lingering in his scent, driving the Alpha crazy with lust. Additionally, he changed his clothes, subtly of course. His jeans got tighter, his shirts shorter and he bent over the workbench more often, showing off his plump ass and a stripe of his bare back. He could feel Tony’s eyes on him, could feel that the Alpha got wound up, but he didn’t snap. Yet.

On top of showing off his assets, Peter also controlled their conversations carefully. He demonstrated subtly his intelligence, talked about topics he knew Tony was interested in, and lured the billionaire in by admiring him and his skills. He didn’t even have to act it because there was no one like Tony Stark out there, no other Alpha that clever and strong. Peter had long ago decided that the genius was his.

Every day they spent together in the lab, Tony loosened up more, until he was completely relaxed around Peter, defenseless against the Omega’s attack. He got trapped more and more in Peter’s web, caught in the seduction of his body and mind, until one day, the Omega made his move.

 It started with the first time Tony called him.

“Peter? I have a problem.” His voice was higher than usual, stressed out and Peter’s guts clenched with the thought that his Alpha felt bad. “I know you don’t work today, but I have a board meeting in an hour, and I can’t leave the palladium mixture alone. It has to keep its temperature. Could you help me out? Pretty please?”

No one could blame Peter, really, Tony gave him the perfect excuse. He didn’t need an hour to get there, but the billionaire didn’t have to know. “I’m on my way, but I don’t have time to change. Could you maybe let me in through the back door? I don’t want my colleagues to see me in my free time clothes.”

Either Tony was just naïve, or totally stressed out because he didn’t suspect anything, relieved Peter could jump in. “I owe you one, Peter. See you soon.”

After Tony had hung up, Peter changed into his nicest lingerie, put on his shortest booty shorts, and a tight crop top that showed a glimpse of his stomach below the hem. He was dressed decently enough that Tony wouldn’t get suspicious, but he revealed enough skin to drive the Alpha wild.

Before he left his apartment, Peter grabbed an oversized jean jacket to cover at least a little of his modesty. Then he took the subway to Stark Industries. He knew today was the day. Tony was exhausted and Peter would use it to make his first strike. If today worked out, Tony Stark was his.

 The elevator that brought him to Tony’s lab was at the backside of SI, so none of his co-workers got the chance to see him dressed like this. Peter smiled while JARVIS took him upstairs. Everything worked out exactly how he had planned it, now he only had to lure the billionaire in.

Tony’s gaze traveled immediately to Peter’s bare thighs when the Omega entered the lab. Raw hunger was written on his face, poorly concealed. It took Peter his entire willpower not to smirk, the Alpha was already yearning for him. He turned around, took off his jacket, and laid it folded on the floor in the corner of the lab, making sure to bend low and present his barely covered ass. He could hear the billionaire curse quietly, a sound of pent-up arousal and longing.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter whimpered when he faced the billionaire again, his eyes huge and innocent. “I know I’m not dressed appropriately, but I didn’t have time to change, or I couldn’t have been here on time.”

He could see how Tony swallowed, guilt about his inappropriate feelings bringing him back to reality. The billionaire’s guards were down, stress was taking its toll, and Peter knew persuading would be even easier when the billionaire came back since he was already on the verge of giving in now. And the best, Tony didn’t even know what Peter was doing.

“What can I do for you?” Peter asked a little breathless, but not too much to raise suspicion. He came closer, invading Tony’s personal space to lean over the workbench and inspect what the billionaire was experimenting on.

The Alpha cleared his throat, taking a few seconds to gain back his control. “I’m experimenting with the arch technology and I have to increase the temperature of the palladium by one degree every ten minutes until it starts to melt. If I heat it too fast, it could get brittle and I have to go to the meeting. Could you take care of it? Could you heat it slowly until it starts to melt and decant it into the intended test tube after?”

Peter smiled at him, genuine and stunning. “Of, course, Alpha- I mean, Mr. Stark, Sir.” The slip was intended, and Peter could see with giddy excitement what the word did to the genius. Tony’s pupils enlarged immediately, and a barely audible rumble left his chest.

“I count on you, Peter.” The billionaire gave him a smile, half predatory, and half ashamed while he walked towards the door. “I’m back in two hours.” When the door closed behind him, Peter could finally smirk.

 Taking care of Tony’s experiment didn’t take much effort. JARVIS was increasing the temperature on his own, and Peter only had to decant the palladium into the test tube once the palladium started to melt, so he was basically just sitting around, waiting for the billionaire to come back. As soon as Tony would enter the room, exhausted and relieved that Peter took care of his experiment, the Omega would make his final move. But before, he had to up his game one last time.

Peter walked over to a chair in the back of the lab, close enough to watch the palladium in case something went wrong, but hidden from the door, so Tony wouldn’t see him, even if he came back earlier. Carefully, he took out a towel he had brought from home and placed it on the chair, so he wouldn’t leave traces behind. Then he pulled down his shorts and panties and spread his legs to get better access.

The first finger was barely a tease, nudging his hole and playing with the muscle until it gave way, until it welcomed the intrusion. Peter moaned slightly when he felt the wet heat, slicking up for an Alpha that wasn’t even here. The underlying arousal he had felt for weeks around Tony was flaming up, rushing to the front of his mind, and forcing him to savor the feeling. His instincts were strong, overwhelming, fighting him to use a second finger, to spread himself for his Alpha. But that wasn’t Peter’s plan.

Although the anticipation hurt, although he wanted nothing more but to ride his fingers in Tony Stark’s lab, surrounded by the scent of his Alpha, Peter held back. He couldn’t come all over the floor, there was no way the Alpha wouldn’t notice the heavy smell, and he only wanted to tease. Begrudgingly, Peter pulled out his finger, leaving his hole empty and twitching, begging for an Alpha. A frustrated moan slipped from his lips, but he stood firm.

Carefully not to leave proof of what he had done, Peter opened his bag again and pulled out wet wipes and a plastic bag. He cleaned up all the slick that had leaked out and sealed the plastic bag after he had put the wipes and the towel inside. Now the only smell of his arousal was coming from him, faint enough that no one could suspect he did it on purpose, but strong enough for an Alpha to notice.

JARVIS’ voice interrupted his thoughts, announcing that the palladium had reached the melting point and Peter decanted it into the test tube, careful not to spill a drop. Everything was done and all Peter had left to do was wait. When he heard footsteps on the hallway, the Omega bent over the workbench, seemingly invested into his own notes while he presented his ass for his Alpha’s view. Let the game begin.

 Tony’s steps were heavy on the floor, a sign of his exhaustion, and Peter’s guts clenched in anticipation as he waited for the Alpha to notice him. He scribbled in his notebook; equations that looked difficult but were actually meaningless. Everything to appear busy.

“Peter.” Tony was only saying his name, but his voice was so full of suppressed emotions that it trembled a little. The Omega looked over his shoulder, seeing the Alpha standing behind him, his gaze glued to Peter’s barely covered ass. Desire was so clearly written on his face that Peter smiled in victory. He kept staring at the billionaire until Tony’s gaze wandered slowly up. He looked guilty.

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.” Tony still tried to hold himself back, but it got harder and harder the more effort Peter put into seducing him.

Deciding to step up his game even further, Peter propped himself onto his forearms, arching his back into the perfect curve. His expression changed, still innocent, but his eyes became darker, hungrier. He was sick of dancing around the billionaire by now. It was time to make a move.

Tony stepped to the workbench to take a look at the vibranium, but he made sure to keep an appropriate distance between them. Peter couldn’t tolerate this. He shuffled closer, masking his attempts by grabbing a pencil.

The moment Tony got a whiff of his scent was clearly visible. Peter could see his nostrils flare, his hands clenched to fists. Omega arousal took over the billionaire’s mind, his instinct screaming at him to take Peter, to mate and breed him. Tony’s morals crumbled, a fight between what was right and what he wanted, completely unaware that Peter controlled his inner turmoil.

“Are you okay, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked oblivious as he turned around, laying his hand on the billionaire’s biceps while his face was twisted in concern.

“I-I’m o-okay,” the Alpha was stuttering, so unlike the strong man he usually was, and in this moment, Peter realized, Tony was utterly at his mercy. The thought was heady, a surge of arousal rushing through his body and he felt new slick dripping out of him, wetting the panties he had carefully picked out.

The new smell broke the last resolve of the genius. With a roar, he grabbed Peter’s hip, pulling him close to his body until he could bury the nose against Peter’s neck, nipping on the mating glands where his scent was coming from. Peter shivered. He had wanted this for years, his Alpha crazy for him, losing his control for him and he took as much of Tony’s domination as he could get.

But as abruptly as the billionaire had snapped, as abruptly he pulled back as well. “I’m so sorry.” Horror was spread on his face, fear that he had taken advantage of the Omega that was too innocent to want this, too pure. Now it was Peter’s time to change his mind.

“Shh,” Peter calmed the Alpha down, placing his hand gently on the billionaire’s chest. “I want it, too. Just let go of the doubts. Let me take care of you, Alpha.”

The words were like magic and Tony relaxed in a heartbeat, allowing Peter to push him towards the couch in the back of the lab. He was mainly driven by instincts now, the scent of Peter’s slick enough to drive him crazy, and the Omega fully intended to use it.

Peter pressed the Alpha in the cushions and Tony spread his legs automatically, giving the Omega space between. It was too easy, and Peter settled between Tony’s legs, kneeling on the carpet in front of him. As much as he liked the game he was playing, his body still forced him to submit to his Alpha, to care for him, so he opened the zipper and pulled out the billionaire’s cock. There was no protest.

Tony was magnificent. He was big, even for Alpha standards, his cock angrily red and already leaking drops of pre-come. Peter’s mouth watered, he wanted to suck it, bounce on it and worship it, but even though the urge was overwhelming, he took his time to appreciate the view. This was his goal, the moment he had worked towards his entire life, and he would make it special. It only takes a blowjob to fall in love, and Tony Stark was already on the verge of falling for him.

Peter watched the Alpha closely when he tentatively touched the hot flesh for the first time. Tony dug his fingernails into the sofa, his entire body tensing with anticipation. He was gorgeous, a picture of barely restrained strength, someone who could protect Peter, who would kill for him. The reaction was fascinating. As strong as Alphas always seems to be, one Omega was enough to take them down.

His fingers danced over Tony’s cock, caressing him slightly without giving him enough friction to be satisfied. Peter needed him desperately to lose his control, until he would fuck Peter’s mouth and dominate him exactly how the Omega longed for. The thought made him feel powerful, the rush of influencing such a dominant Alpha was fueled his arousal.

Peter’s insides clenched in anticipation when Tony growled frustrated for the first time. “Suck me, Omega.” The Alpha’s voice was deep and firm, his morals crumbling with the need to claim, to dominate.

When Peter’s lips touched Tony’s cock for the first time, the Alpha moaned. He hadn’t even taken him in his mouth, just a slight caress of lips up and down, leaving traces on the thick vein that was pulsing with arousal. Pleasuring the Alpha was everything Peter had ever dreamed of. The smell was musky and addictive, clouding his mind and making him forget his plan. Peter whimpered, his lips still attached to the other man and he caught as much of the scent as possible. He felt calm between the Alpha’s legs, his body and mind in sync. 

It could only be described as a tease, Peter’s lips sucking and stroking him, coating him with salvia and making him shine. The anticipation built and built, Tony was barely holding himself back, his knuckles white from the attempts to keep his control, but Peter was on the verge of losing it himself. The billionaire’s cock was beautiful, every Omega’s dream and he had worked for this since he could remember. There was no way he could wait for even a second longer, driven by the need to be closer.

The moment Peter’s lips parted to engulf the billionaire’s cock, Tony lost it. He reached out, tangled his hands in the Omega’s hair, and forced him down, forced him to swallow the entire length without a break. Peter’s eyes rolled back. He loved the thought that he had riled Tony up enough to make him lose control, he loved the thick weight on his tongue and the huge tip prying open his throat. A moan rumbled through his chest, the vibrations turning on the billionaire even more. 

It was clearly Tony’s breaking point. “That’s it, Omega. Open up.” His voice was dark and gravely, demanding Peter’s obedience and ordering him however he pleased. “Let me in. You don’t know what a tease you are, staring at me with those innocent eyes, dressed in the shortest clothes you could find. Did you do this on purpose?”

Peter shook his head as much as possible, not willing to pull back even an inch. He bobbed his head, tears running down his cheeks while his throat clenched around the billionaire’s length. The cock in his mouth felt like a reward.

“God, so innocent, even with your mouth completely stuffed. Do you know that every Alpha is staring at you? They all want you, want to fuck you, but here you are, between my legs. I think that makes you mine, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

The words were the last straw, everything he had ever wanted. He would have smirked if his mouth hadn’t been stuffed with the billionaire’s cock. He knew all the Alphas were staring at him, knew they wanted him exactly how Tony had him right now, but he had decided Tony Stark was the only one he wanted and he would do anything to keep him close. 

All the skills he had learned through training with a piece of plastic at home were finally useful and Peter took a deep breath before he started to fuck his throat on the billionaire’s cock. It was wet and messy, drool ran down Peter’s chin, mixing with his tears. He gagged around Tony’s length, savored every little noise the Alpha made. It was proof that he was doing it right and he wasn’t even sure anymore if the wetness in his pants was due to the accomplishment of his goal or the way his Alpha lost control. 

Tony wasn’t passive anymore. He fixated Peter’s face, one hand grabbing his chin while the other one was wrapped around his neck, and then he started to thrust. Peter’s eyes fell close in pleasure and he couldn’t hold back anymore, forced to take every inch however his Alpha wanted him to. His fingers wandered between his legs, pulling the fabric of his shorts and his panties to one side, and giving him room to sink one finger in his hole. The whimper he let out couldn’t even be muffled by the thick cock in his mouth.

“God, you’re needy, aren’t you?” Peter could only nod. “A cock in your mouth is making you so horny that you have to fill up your hole yourself? Are you a slut, baby? Tell me, how many Alpha’s have knotted you already?”

The billionaire pulled on Peter’s hair, his cock leaving the wet heat with a plop. Peter felt debauched, kneeling between Tony’s parted legs while drool was running down his chin. He whimpered, his mouth felt empty, hell, even his hole felt empty, but his Alpha needed him to answer a question. 

“No one, Alpha.”

The longing Peter had seen in Tony’s eyes couldn’t be compared to the hunger he was faced with now. “Are you a virgin?”

A bashful smile, a bat of his eyes, and a soft “yes” where enough to coax out the darkest side of Alpha instinct. Not even a second later, Peter’s mouth was stuffed again, and Tony went even deeper with every thrust, taking his throat like an animal. The Omega knew the rough behavior was caused by his teasing and the thought made him preen. His Alpha was losing it for him.

“Such a good Omega,” Tony growled while he was entering Peter’s throat again and again. “Still untouched for me, such a rare treat, such a treasure. I’ve planned to fuck you over the workbench, but we can’t do this now since your first time should be in a bed.” Peter whimpered in protest, he wanted to be filled, he wanted his first time with Tony, but when his Alpha insisted on waiting, the Omega could be content with this for now.

 Tony picked up his thrusts, his hand still holding Peter’s chin in a tight grip. Peter looked him in the eyes, the arousal clearly written all over his face. His mind was blank, shut down so he could just take his Alpha’s cock and he couldn’t even concentrate on the finger in his own hole. 

The closer Tony got to the edge, the louder he became. Obscene words left his mouth, urging Peter to take him deeper, to take him faster. His thighs shook and his cock became even harder until he finally came with a shout. 

Bitter cum was flooding Peter’s mouth and he moaned in pleasure. The taste was heavy, masculine, and although it was the first time the Omega had tasted it, he was already addicted. He made sure to swallow every drop, using his tongue to coax surge after surge out of the Alpha. It was so much more than Peter had ever released, a potent fluid, made to breed. 

Tony twitched in his mouth and Peter sucked him until he was empty, cleaning every inch before he pulled back with a plop. Sitting between the billionaire’s feet was amazing itself, but knowing he was the reason Tony had lost control was even better. Peter smiled dopily at his Alpha, content, although he hadn’t even come himself. 

The first thing Tony did when he got the control of his body back was pulling Peter in his lap. “Such a good Omega, so perfect for me.” His hand wandered down on Peter’s back until he touched his ass, kneading the globes and coaxing a moan out of Peter. The Omega hadn’t been focused on his own arousal, too caught up in fulfilling the urge to pleasure his Alpha, but now that Tony was already done, his own needs came back. 

Suddenly, Peter noticed the slick that drenched his shorts and thighs. He couldn’t remember ever being so wet before and he moaned obscenely when Tony pulled his panties aside to tease his entrance. New slick was dripping out of him, his body was preparing itself for an Alpha’s cock.

“So wet for me, Omega,” Tony cooed and pressed his first finger in the tight heat. Peter cried. He had never felt so good before, never had something else but his own fingers or plastic toys inside of him, but finally his Alpha would take care of his pleasure. The feelings were too much, and Peter knew he couldn’t drag this out, too riled up from the first cock in his mouth. 

Tony was barely moving his finger, only little thrusts that didn’t even require him to pull out more than an inch, but it was still enough for Peter to rush towards the edge. He was bouncing on his Alpha’s finger, taking everything Tony was giving him and wordlessly pleaded for more. The billionaire hit his sweet spot every time, so much more experienced than Peter and as soon as the second finger entered him, the Omega was lost.

His orgasm was overwhelming. It started with a buzzing in his stomach, growing larger and larger until it exploded, leaving him shaking and screaming in Tony’s lap. Wave after wave made him squirm, wetness gushing out of him, ruining the billionaire’s pants. He had never felt anything like this before. Here he was, his Alpha finally where he wanted him and while his mind was shattering under the sensations, Peter knew he had reached his goal. 

He came down slowly, nuzzled against the billionaire’s chest with strong arms that kept him upright. His Alpha pressed light kisses against his temples, told him how beautiful he was, how precious and obedient. Tony even apologized for being so rough, for taking his throat mercilessly during his first time. Peter smiled, too tired to protest while he enjoyed his Alpha’s content scent. 

This was what he had wanted, Tony Stark by his side, losing control in bed, but pampering him after. Saving himself had been worth it, all the struggle and all the work had been worth it because when Tony whispered in his ear that Peter was it, the Omega knew. 

He did it, he won. Tony Stark was his. Peter had caught him in his web.