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euphemiaamillais · 1 year ago

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money, power, glory - coriolanus snow

on the night of your victory party, president snow decides that he wants a little more than a kiss from his victor—after all, don’t you ought to show your president just how patriotic you are?

cw: 18+//dub-con//age gap (reader is 18+)//abuse of power//mentions of exploitation//objectification//blowjobs//piv sex//coercion//loss of virginity//creampie//district 7 victor!reader and president!coryo

the party is all for you; the gaud and festivity, the fountains of alcohol, the ridiculously clad guests. you won, they tell you—but it’s a reminder of the children you killed as you fought tooth and claw in that arena. it feels wrong, to be put on display like this when twenty-three children lay dead in their districts. the celebration of murder—it’s as if you’re the prize animal at the circus.

you had been primped and preened by your stylist drusilla all afternoon, gritting your teeth as every part of your body was plucked and waxed, as she pulled your hair back into some elaborate hairstyle, the pins now digging into your scalp. that pain—the dull ache of it—ironically served as a reminder of the pain you had to endure in the games. you only survived because you slit the throat of that boy from two, watching the blood trickle out of his neck as you practically limped away.

you’d since been repaired, though many a time you felt that familiar ache in your ankle—the one that had been broken—and supposed it was punishment for the cruelty of your actions. but put twenty-four helpless children in an arena and ask them to fight to the death, and you learn that the ‘inherent goodness’ in human beings is nothing but a thin veil maintained by law and order.

‘enjoying the show?’ you hear the familiar, cut-glass voice of drusilla, who’s currently festooned in a garish purple gown covered in feathers—with a hairpiece to match.

you shrug, taking a sip of the expensive champagne, feeling the bubbles fizz down your throat as you swallow. it’s all so much, the noise, the people—as if you’re being smothered.

‘you’re being awfully quiet,’ she sighs, brushing your shoulder with her perfectly manicured hand. ‘isn’t there anything to tempt you?’

drusilla is more sympathetic than most in the capitol; she’d listened as you’d told her about your family back in seven, the trees that spanned for miles, how you often lay under their green blanket and daydreamed of a world beyond this one. but still, she would never understand what being a victor was like, there were scarce few in panem who did. many turned to morphling or alcohol upon their return home, and you’d heard horror stories whispered about victor’s being sold for certain services.

‘i’m just tired, that’s all,’ you murmur, reaching for another glass of champagne as a waiter walks past.

drusilla cocks a thin brow, a suspicious look glittering in her eyes. the throng of people is dizzying as you down your second champagne, but you feel your nerves ease, and pray that this night will become more bearable.

‘come, they all want to see you—their victor,’ she grins, pearly white teeth glistening under the golden light of the strings of lanterns.

you take her hand, and she pulls you through the crowd. it’s a vertigo-inducing sea of rainbow; hands clasping together in applause, rich cheers from their panted mouths. you feel your own lips twitch into a smile, but your eyes are somewhere else; far away from this. you can smell the soil back home, see the larks that fly through the trees that reach to the heavens. there’s a dreadful pang of homesickness thrumming in your heart.

and yet you cannot return home, not when they’re all watching you, waiting for the pretty victor to make a witty remark, or to make bids on who will get to have her first. you’re acutely aware that your pink dress is practically see-though, it’s gauzy fabric not leaving much to the eye. your feet ache from the heels they’ve put you in, and you know no matter how much they primp and preen at you, you’ll always be district. an outsider among those in wealthy excess.

among the throngs of people, you spot him—president snow. your breath catches between your lips. you’ve seen him before, obviously. his touch has always strayed a little too much when he’s been around you, but of course, you’d never say anything. you wonder how such a young man—he’s only 24 after all—rose to such power. nobody can deny how attractive he is, piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde curls. if he hadn’t put you in these games, maybe you’d even be persuaded to like him.

drusilla pushes you to him, and you stumble a little, the champagne causing a heady, floaty feeling in your body as you make an attempt to make yourself presentable. you hadn’t expect to be thrust towards him so soon, but the way he’s staring at you is as if he’s been expecting this.

‘don’t be so nervous, you look gorgeous,’ drusilla reminds you as you come to a halt before president snow.

he’s wearing one of his finely tailored suits; this one the crimson shade of red you’ve so often seen him wearing. you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and feel the absence of drusilla’s hand from your back. when you crane your neck—only slightly, so as not to seem rude—she’s disappeared into the throng of brightly clad partygoers.

‘my favourite victor,’ president snow reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to it. his lips are strangely cold. not that you knew what to expect, but somehow it makes sense. his demeanour is like ice.

‘president snow,’ you lean back into curtsy, your bad ankle aching as you do so.

he smiles, icy eyes flickering over your form. he can practically make out your undergarments in that dress; they’re a shade of peach and of such a sheer satin that you can nearly see right through, but it leaves enough for the onlooker to be left wondering what lies underneath. your eyes follow him, and you clutch at your arms shyly, as if half of the capitol hasn’t seen you dressed so scantly.

‘shy tonight, are we?’ he inquires, edging close enough to you that you can make out the slight five o’clock shadow on his jaw.

‘i’m tired, that’s all,’ you mutter, flinching as one of his hands grips at your waist.

‘i would’ve thought you’d enjoy this spectacle, seeing as you made quite the circus out of the arena,’ he leaned in close to your ear, in what you assumed was an intimidation tactic. in spite of being hardened by the arena, deep down, president snow terrified you. ‘the way you killed that boy from two—brutal. but you made yourself the star of the capitol…’

his touch strays further, grasping at the thin fabric that surrounds your ass. one blonde brow arches in surprise, and his lips flicker into what you assume to be a smirk. if he was anyone else, you would’ve pushed him away, but he’s your president. one word and you’d be good as dead; and after enduring the games, you’d rather not come face-to-face with that sort of confrontation again.

‘how pretty,’ he muses, fingers tracing lightly against your form. ‘did you wear this just for me?’

your lips purse, but your body propels you to give a swift nod of your head. ‘do you like it?’

president snow smiles, eyes dancing at your quick wittedness. the girls he has are usually stupid whores who he pays to suck his cock—you, on the other hand, are a precious prize. intelligent, obviously, and startlingly beautiful. and you’re the first female victor since mags flannagan, not that he has any say over her because he was still crawling his way up under dr. gaul then.

‘oh yes, i think you know why,’ he drops the fabric, and takes a few steps away, a blasé look crossing his features.

he watches as your cheeks turn a pretty pink, and you cast your gaze to the ground. how charming; you feigning bashfulness. he’d seen you at your most primal, knife dragging along the jugular of that boy. you couldn’t charm your way out of this one.

the silence pierces the air, and you are prompted to speak—anything to change the topic. the stagnancy between you two has wrapped it’s suffocating arms around you—and you don’t want to choke.

‘i must thank you, president snow, for the festivities,’ you gesture to the ridiculous amount of decorations; the blaring music and the light show.

‘i’m glad you like it,’ he remarks, but his eyes are still trained on you. he wants something from you, and you’re not sure what. ‘i had to celebrate my favourite victor, after all.’

you stifle a scoff; his flattery is sickening. he’s never this charming among company. he’s cold, calculating—you can see it in his eyes, still, but he so obviously needs you wrapped around his little finger. and of course, you can’t resist. who would disobey their president, after all?

‘you flatter me, sir,’ he swallows thickly at the appellation. god, he’d love to hear you call him that as he bends you over one of his expensive armchairs. he wonders if you’d beg him to stop, or if you’d take it. he can’t figure out which type you are, just yet.

‘there’s nothing wrong with flattery, don’t you think?’ he is close to you again, breath fanning your cheek. ‘especially when it comes from your president.’

you feel your body freeze up. there’s something so intimidating about him, and although you want to outsmart him, the way he makes your knees buckle turns you into another one of those bumbling capitol fools.

‘now, if you’ll excuse me, sweetheart. i’ve got a few matters to attend to,’ he backs away, leaving in a flourish of red.

you have to blink a few times to register his absence, and reach for another glass of champagne as a waiter holds out a decadent tray to you. why not? you think, taking time to sip elegantly at this one. there’s no harm in imbibing if you have to make it through this hellish night.

—

drusilla taps you on the back as you’re shoving an expensive vol-au-vent past your painted lips. when you turn around, she’s shocked to see your mouth full of the pastry, cheeks rounded out as you attempt to swallow it. the hunger pangs had grown considerably, and when you finally gulped it down, the effects of the champagne made you giggle.

‘oh honey,’ she shakes her head, reaching for a pristine napkin to wipe at the flakes of pastry by your lips.

the night had drawn on, and you’d been left with an anxious feeling after your encounter with president snow. everytime somebody so much as brushes against you, your head had whipped around as you searched for a head of perfectly-set blonde curls and a crimson coat. to your luck, it had only ever been waiters, carting more champagne. you reckoned you were drunk enough now that you didn’t care how you acted.

let them think you were a fool, you’d be heading home tomorrow anyways.

‘how much have you had to drink?’ she inquires, and watches as you furrow your brows in thought.

‘six, no—seven glasses,’ you admit, and drusilla scolds you with a clucking tongue, her pink curls bobbing as she shakes her head.

‘president snow won’t be very happy with that,’ she remarks.

your mouth turns into a curious pout, watching as her face falters into some sort of cryptic, far-away look. you run the soft fabric of your dress through your fingers as you let the words settle. no, it doesn’t make sense.

‘why would he care?’ you asked, a little piqued by the thought that he’d even be remotely interested in whether you were sober or not.

drusilla’s purple lips are drawn into a thin line, and she bends in close as if she’s ready to tell you a secret. your throat’s gone dry, the anxiety prying at you with it’s cold hands.

‘look, sweetie,’ her golden tone is laced with a little condescension. ‘president snow won’t like that you’re drunk. it won’t make the situation ideal for him.’

your brows quirk into a look of confusion. situation? drusilla sees your loss of words and takes it upon herself to inform you of the events. how naive you are, that you’ve got no idea just what he wants with you.

‘you’ve been asked to stay the night at the mansion,’ her eyes flicker to search for any eavesdroppers, and then she continues. ‘look, i’m sorry if i didn’t tell you earlier, but he’s asked to keep quiet about it. what with the others being jealous—’

‘others?’ your voice falters.

‘well, sweetie, you know how desirable victors are. president snow just wants to make sure nobody else gets their hands on you. that’s why he’s keeping you here, under close guard.’ drusilla bites her lip, revealing that she’s worried for you. she didn’t have much of a choice in your fate, but if she could forewarn you, she would.

you understood now why he’d been so touchy before—clearly he was jealous that somebody was trying to get their hands on his precious victor.

you lose all your words, mouth opening, nothing spilling out. it feels like it’s been filled up with dirt; you can hardly speak. drusilla goes to strike your arm, but is prevented from doing so as she’s whisked away by some blue-haired man harping on about her latest designs. once again, you feel the pangs of loneliness.

you had to reconcile yourself to the fact that the rest of your life—however long that may be—would be a lonely existence. you’d spent the better part of the month on the train, zigzagging back and forth between the districts, reading off prewritten speeches as you had to face the families of the fallen. all those children—their children—dead.

every night, you’d taken those pills prescribed by the doctors, the ones that stopped you from waking up with your hand around your throat as you screamed. you slept a dreamless sleep, but it became hard to not depend on them. what would you do without them tonight?

—

the party draws on long into the night, and you grow bored and overwhelmed. as per drusilla’s advice, and also not wanting to wake up with a throbbing headache tomorrow morning, you resorted to drinking the assorted non-alcoholic beverages.

your head is pounding by one am, but the party doesn’t seem to cease by any means. deciding you’ve had enough, and that nobody would really miss you—after all, nobody’s even talked to you for at least two hours—you stumble your way across the marble steps of the mansion. you hazily remember drusilla telling you what door you were meant to enter by, and you find it manned by a singular avox.

without a word, they let you inside, and you trail tipsily after them up a velvet staircase. your ankles roll as you climb the steps, head spinning, but it doesn’t take long to reach your room. your feet are aching, and when the avox leaves you to your own company, you practically tear the shoes off your feet.

you lay back against the white sheets, revelling in the feeling of the thousand-count cotton brushing against your skin. you’d never felt anything like it, and could feel your eyes shutting as you relax into the plush sheets.

you awaken what seems like hours later, but only twenty minutes have passed on the alarm clock by the bed. the sound of footsteps can be heard outside your door, and you’re surprised you can make it out as the party still booms outside the vast windows of the mansion.

you sit up, heart racing, and head throbbing slightly. you’re groggy from the champagne, and the bubbly tipsiness has given way to the absolute misery of sobering up.

the door opens, a small sliver of light giving way to the shadowy figure that progresses into the room. you squint, unable to make out a face, but pray it’s not one of the men you’ve heard were making bids for the victor.

you sigh a breath of relief when you see president snow, not a hair out of place as he stands beside your bed. your dress is up around your thighs, and you can see his blue eyes dancing across your frame.

‘president snow,’ you murmur into the darkness.

you wondered who had turned off the light in the first place—your memory is hazy at best but you don’t remember flicking the switch. an avox must have come past while you were sleeping.

‘i see my favourite victor has taken some respite,’ he muses, one cold hand reaching out to stroke your thigh.

you flinch back reflexively, not used to the icy feeling against your skin. nor are you used to the prying hands of men. the most you’d ever done was kiss a boy, and even then, that was years ago, you weren’t even sure it counted.

‘sorry,’ you spit out, lips trembling with apology. he only laughs, hand still tracing your smooth skin.

‘no need to apologise. i’d rather you doze here than fall asleep on a bench where any of those men could lay a hand on you,’ he makes a sound of disgust, shaking his head at the thought. ‘i couldn’t let them spoil my pretty victor.’

you feel your cheeks warm—did he really think you were pretty? but you remembered who he was; in fact he was the very reason there were even any games at all. he could put a stop to all this if he wanted, and yet he didn’t. you couldn’t let him fool you with his charm.

‘it’s very thoughtful of you, president snow,’ you offer, not wanting to raise suspicion in him.

in the moonlight, you can see a smile flicker across his lips. his hand moved further up to the apex of your thigh, and your breath hitches. what was he doing?

‘do you like that?’ he murmurs, leaning in against your ear, breath hot.

you can’t think of what to say. your thighs tingle a little with the touch, but you don’t want him there. it’s wrong. he’s the president though, and how can you tell him no when he could have you killed?

‘you’re a quiet one, aren’t you?’ he mutters, but wanting to rouse a sound out of you, he moves his hand to press flush against your panties, thumb stroking the area where your clit is.

you let out a breathy gasp; the pleasant warmth flooding your belly. his brows quirk up at your quick response—you’re so willing. he wonders how far he can push you; of course he wants to have you no matter what, after all, it’s his right as president—but he wants to know how much of a whore you are under those pretty clothes.

he knew what district girls were like. lucy gray—though that name made him shudder—bent easily under his guidance. he hoped you’d do the same; obey him. he had more power now, six years after his stint as a mentor and then peacekeeper. he kept that to himself; everybody else simply thought he’d been struck down with a bad bout of the flu, when really he’d been uncovering rebel plots by day and by night was burying his cock deep inside of whatever district slut would have him.

‘please, president snow,’ you beg, head spinning as he rubs at your sensitive nub.

‘please what?’ he inquires, an undercurrent of menace in his voice.

‘i mean—are you sure we should be doing this?’ you furrow your brows with anxiety. ‘aren’t there men who want to pay you good money for this?’

you squeeze your legs together in the hopes that he’ll stop, but this only angers him and he uses his muscular hands to pry your thighs apart. you can’t deny him this; he wants it, and he’ll have it.

‘oh, they’re not going to get you. no, you’re far too precious for the likes of them,’ he shook his head in disbelief. ‘when i realised you were going to be sold to some scumbag who’s been divorced three times, well, i couldn’t let that happen.’

your mouth stretches into a perplexed pout, and you let out another soft moan as he rubs diligently at your clit. his other fingers brush over your red lace panties, and he sucks in a breath as he feels how soaked you are. surely you cannot deny him when you’re practically begging for it?

‘but…’ your lips tremble and you are almost deterred from saying what you want to by the scornful look painted across his noble features.

‘surely you don’t want me,’ you scramble to find an excuse.

‘why wouldn’t i? it’s not like you’re a girl anymore, hm? you’re nineteen, and ever so pretty,’ his other hand thumbs your cheek. you didn’t feel it, but you’d been crying. his thumb presses against a droplet.

‘please,’ you plead. ‘you wouldn’t enjoy it—i’m a virgin.’

he laughs, shaking his head at your stupidity. he hasn’t suspected it, what with the way you were dressed; the gown revealing far too much of your body to him—he could see the top of your nipples sticking out of the neckline.

‘oh no,’ he clucked his tongue. ‘then i simply must have you. how could let you i waste your virginity on any of those men when i could have you?’

you shake your head, body trembling as you feel yourself give way to his fingers, which were slowly bringing you to your pleasure. you clutch at the plush sheets and feel yourself gush, your panties growing even more damp.

he can’t believe it, how quickly you came. he wonders if you’d ever even touched yourself before. sure, you’d killed a boy, but you really knew very little about the world, and even less of men. it enthralled him.

his cock strained in his suit pants, and he let out a low grunt. you responded with a shocked look, but sighed as he stood up, letting go of your thighs. the way he’d touched you—it was scandalous. surely he’d be in a lot of trouble if anyone found out?

but your heart fell when you remembered that he was president. it’s not as if you were anything more than a hired whore who had to do her duty by him.

‘you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ he called out, combing a hand over his perfectly styled hair.

your mouth went dry, but you stood up, wanting to be defiant, clawing for anything to make you seem like you had some sense of autonomy. it was a lost cause, however. you forgot how he towered over you now that your heels were discarded. you couldn’t face up against him.

‘i said, you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ his voice was wrought with ire this time, and you nodded.

‘yes sir,’ you respond with a clear tone. you’re surprised you even managed it.

he reaches out to stroke your face again, sighing as your warm cheeks meet the cold pads of his fingers. you tremble a little, knees buckling in fear. anything could happen.

‘now, are you going to be a good girl and show your president how patriotic you are?’ he asks.

‘yes, mr president,’ you reply blankly. the name sends the blood straight to his cock.

‘then get on your fucking knees,’ he commands.

your head is spinning, but you somehow find your way to the ground, knees aching as you press them into the wooden floorboards. you hear the sound of something unzipping, and when you glance up, you come face to face with his cock.

he’s hard, and huge—not that you’ve ever seen one before—and he lets out a heavy grunt as he sees how pliant you are. he wants nothing more than to fuck that pretty little face of yours and watch how you gag around his length. he hasn’t known he was so big until he’d gotten to district 12 and the stupid district sluts kept choking on his cock. when he’d dressed in academy rouge he’d only ever known his own hand. but now, he knew what power he could exert with all eight inches of himself.

‘good girl,’ he strokes your chin, and when you open your mouth, he slides his thumb over your bottom lip.

your saliva coats his thumb, and you gag a little as he slides it to the back of your mouth. a small grin flickers across his lips; if you’re choking on his thumb, just imagine how bleary-eyed you’ll be as you gag around his cock.

‘god, i don’t want to think about what i would be missing out on if you’d died in that arena,’ he tuts at the thought, and slides his thumb out of your mouth, smearing your own saliva at the corner of your lips.

your lipstick is smudged now, and he’s determined to ruin it even more; perhaps even have your mascara running down your cheeks as you take his cock in your mouth.

‘when i’d heard that the victor was to be the eighteen year old girl from district 7, well, i knew i’d be able to have you. especially once i got a look at you, in your victory dress. did they make it that short on purpose? to make my cock hard?’ he laughs, reminiscing how he’d taken a whore that night that looked just like you, pretending it was you that he was fucking from behind.

you shiver, terrified by him, his words. they’re disgusting. the way he viewed you as something to exploit—and it can’t even be considered taboo because you’re nineteen, after all. if the president wants you, he’ll get you.

‘answer me!’ he scowls, tugging at your intricate hairstyle, which hurts because the pins holding it together were already poking at your scalp.

‘no,’ you murmur, because it’s the truth. you wore what they told you to, you didn’t think it was supposed to be for him.

‘no?’ he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘well then, tonight at least—they must’ve known i wanted to have you. wasn’t going to let you get away from me this time.’

you swallow thickly, mouth agape in terror, knees trembling against the cool floor. you can feel the bruises forming on them; the dull ache of kneeling is humiliating.

finally, he presses his cock against your open mouth, a little pleased that it was hanging agape in shock, making it easier for him to slide it right in. you freeze, blinking back tears of mortification, but you can't say no, not when he's your president, not when there's that nagging ache in your core that makes you yearn for his fingers back against you.

you open wider, and he slides himself in, cock hitting the back of your throat instantly. you gag, the tears now dribbling foolishly down your cheeks, and president snow just laughs, the sound mottled with undertones of a soft groan. you wrap your lips around him, and move to bob your head up and down, but he grabs your hair and tugs it towards him.

you cry out, scalp stinging and mouth stuffed full to the brim with his cock. his grip tightens as he begins to thrust into your mouth, grunting as feels your saliva coat his length. he can't even fit himself all in, it's pathetic, but he'll help you learn in time how to deepthroat, so he can watch as your mascara runs while you beg him to push himself further down your throat. you'll become his personal fuckdoll.

'teeth,' he winces as he feels your top teeth make contact with the skin of his cock, and embarrassed, you make sure to push your top lip around them.

his lips stretch around a groan, forcing your nose to meet his pubic bone—the sound of your gags are delightful, and when his eyes flutter shut, you know he's enjoying it. he tosses his head back, cock throbbing as he forces it back and forth in your mouth. when his eyes open again, it's to the sight of your mascara running, thick black streaks painting your cheeks as you choke around him.

'so pretty,' he strokes your cheek, smearing the mascara even more. he wonders if you'll still be crying as he stretches you out, filling your cunt with his big cock. probably; he's forgotten how much whining virgins do.

feeling himself close, his thrusts grow more haggard, and you feel his balls slap against your chin as you attempt to breathe—through your nose, of course. his movements are suffocating, you're grasping at his hips, praying for it to be over—and then it is.

hot sticky spurts of cum slide right down your throat as he gives a loud moan, crying your name in praise. part of you—the part you revile—reddens at his praises, you want nothing more than to please your president. the other part of you tries not to gag as the pearly ropes of his cum slither achingly slow down your throat.

'good girl, swallowing it all—you'd do anything for your president, wouldn't you?' he coos, pulling his cock out of your mouth.

your lips ache, and you're sure the back of your throat is blooming purple with a bruise; but you nod, eyes all fucked out because your cunt is dripping wet, all for him.

'well, i really only want one more thing from my victor...' his voice trails off, lips pursing. you can see the desire in his eyes, icy gaze dripping with lecherous intent.

and yet, you cannot deny the fact that he had already made you cum once, that your body is begging for him. you hate it. you want to scream—if only you weren't so tired and your mouth didn't ache so sorely.

'how about you lay back in the bed, hm?' his voice is soft, laced now with the sweet tone he uses to charm the wives of senators and the little girls that give him roses.

you oblige blindly, and rise, knees black and blue, legs trembling, but somehow you find yourself laid back against the plush sheets once again.

‘can’t believe nobody else has had you,’ he murmurs, removing his shoes carefully, and then undoing his suit. it’s brand new, and he doesn’t want to spoil it.

when he’s undressed to his boxers, you can’t help but admire his form. he’s well-toned, biceps muscular, the slight formation of abs on his stomach, and you can see his cock has once again hardened. you press your thighs together in want, and he watches as you gaze at him, half-terrified, eyes blown wide, and yet half-wanton, body beckoning him to take you and make you his.

‘god, you’re so pretty,’ he muses, crawling across the bed and placing his arms either side of you.

you shiver, suddenly feeling brushed with cold, perhaps it’s from him. how fitting, you think, that his name and touch are both reminiscent of the cold. you can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, a reminder of your helplessness in this situation. the way he’s going to do whatever he wants with you.

he slides his fingers under the straps of your dress, forcing it down your arms. you lie still as a stone, letting him slide the dress down your body, exposing your breasts, watching him sigh as your nipples respond to the frigid temperature radiating from his body.

he takes one breast in his mouth, laving at your nipple until it hardens under his tongue. your hands are urging you to clutch at his perfectly styled hair, but you cannot move; the tears are brimming in your eyes and you’re not sure if they’re out of shame that he’s touching you, or shame that your body is so pliant to his touch.

he pushes the dress down further, and gets on his knees until he’s completely stripped you of it. there you lay, among the pristinely white sheets, the party alive outside of your window; completely bare besides your panties. your skin is pocked with goosebumps as he runs his hands over your bare stomach, fingers latching at the waistband of your panties.

‘god, are you wet for me?’ he chuckled as he removes your soaked panties—still evidence that he’d managed to make you cum.

you are unresponsive until he gives your skin a pinch between his slender fingers, and a soft yelp escapes your lips.

‘talk to me,’ he commands, though there’s an undertone of begging. not that the president should ever have to beg. ‘i can’t have my pretty victor keeping silent, especially not while i fuck her. i want to hear the sweet sounds that are going to come from your lips.’

you give a nod, eyes flickering to glance at the ceiling, watching as the hazy lights from outside dance upon the ornate eaves. one of his hands touches your cheek, the chill bringing you back to meet his gaze.

‘gonna make you mine,’ he groans, reaching down to palm at his cock through his boxers.

you push away the tears at your eyes, and your hands go down to clutch at the sheets. you’re still a little floaty from the champagne, but it can’t seem to take you away from what is occurring right before your eyes.

'look at me!' he snaps, hard cock now pressing against the inside of your thighs.

'sorry,' you manage to get out, lips trembling as you brace yourself—he's big... too big.

'fuck, can't believe i get to have you all for myself...but i suppose it's the least i deserve as president,' a soft laugh plays upon his lips, the sound soon mottled by a low moan.

he eases the tip into your hole, sighing at your tightness. your eyes flutter shut, but strangely, your core only tingles as he slides himself into you. it's the ultimate betrayal—your body is yielding to him, growing wetter as he sheathes himself completely inside of you; at least, most of his eight inches.

'so fucking wet,' he grins devilishly, beginning to buck his hips gently.

you look so angelic, hair sprawled out on the pillow like a halo, the soft lights from the party glowing against your skin. coriolanus wants to take it slow, in spite of how much his cock is throbbing, because you are his prize—he must relish you. he can't let your virginity go to waste, after all. half the capitol has been vying for it, and now he is the one to take it. he imagines the disgruntled looks on the faces of the men who had bid for you when he informs them that you've been spoiled—and if any of them complained, well, he's the president. he could see to their... accidental deaths.

as he stretches out your tight walls, a pretty moan escapes your lips, by accident, but he takes this as a sign that you are surrendering yourself to him. coriolanus smiles a little to himself, and fastens the pace slightly, grunting as your body opens itself to his caresses.

‘you like that, hm?’ he inquires, one cold hand moving down to rub your clitoris.

you let out another gasp, this time of shock and pleasure, as his thumb presses against your sensitive nub. his eyes dance with delight as you come apart under him, your cunt growing slicker by the second. you’re so beautiful, and he glances down at the part where you two meet—his big cock stretching out your tight walls. a milky ring of your arousal coats his shaft, only driving him more lustful as he fucks you.

‘president snow…’ you cry out, trying to shove his hand away.

you can see the ire returning to his eyes, and when he presses down on your clit harder you stop and allow your body to relax. you realise it’s fruitless to try and fend him off anymore—he’s making you feel good, after all. but that’s the terrible part of it, the fact that you can feel waves of pleasure washing over you again. he’s smiling sickly, groaning as he ruts into you with grunts.

‘you're so fucking tight,’ he moans, watching you moan with pleasure as his fingers bring you to climax.

‘so good…’ you say, barely above a whisper, but the knowing look he cast you makes you admit it—after all, perhaps he’ll be kinder next time. let you decide when you want it.

‘yeah? you like the way my big cock is filling you out? how your president is reminding you who you belong to?’ he grunts, and you give a lazy nod.

the coil in your stomach comes unbound slowly as the combination of his cock stretching you out and his thumb rubbing diligent circles around your clit drives you over the edge. your toes curl sightly, arms moving up to grip at his back. you find the smooth, cold skin is surprisingly toned; hard muscles prominent under your touch.

you feel your pleasure peaking, body dancing with warmth and want. you try to stifle your moan by turning your head into the pillow, but his hand grasps your chin and pulls you back to meet his gaze.

‘don’t turn away from me!’ he scolds, brows knitting into a pained expression.

‘i’m sorry…’ you murmur, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

you feel a wave of pleasure wash over your body as his thumb coaxes another orgasm out of you—your second one for the evening. your cheeks fill with warmth as your arousal coats his cock, causing coriolanus to let out a breathy groan.

you pray that it ends soon, but your body continues to dance with pleasure and satisfaction, giving into him, allowing him to make his stake in you. his pretty little victor that he was deflowering—and she came around his cock and everything!

‘fuck,’ coriolanus grunts, hands travelling down to grab at the soft skin of your hips as he pounds into you. ‘all fucking mine. taking me so well…’

when you clench around him, he feels his balls tighten, and cock still for a moment as he reaches his own climax. you’re mewling so prettily—half-begging for him to stop by the way your head roles about in a dissociative reverie shows him that if your heart cannot be persuaded to take him, your body will.

‘shit,’ he spits as he slows his pace, dragging in and out of you at a painfully still speed.

he doesn’t want to finish so quickly, but you’re so fucking tight and your slick coating his cock has set his nerves on fire—his tip is throbbing with desire. coriolanus’ fingers are plunged into the supple skin of your hips, digging far enough that you feel a few bruises forming under the skin.

'so fucking tight,' he curses, sliding himself all the way out before filling you up to the hilt again. the sound of your wet cunt squelching around his big cock reverberates against the walls.

another moan escapes your plump lips, egging coriolanus on—clearly you're enjoying this to some extent; you've come twice tonight. next time he might not be so kind, after all, he's only being so sweet because you're a virgin—you're more like a prize to enjoy than anything else.

'gonna fill you up with my cum,' he sneers, eyes rolling shut as he pushes himself against your g-spot. you contract around him in response. 'you'd like that, wouldn't you? taking your president's cum? so patriotic, aren't you?'

the way he's still squeezing and pinching at your hips urges you to respond, so you cast a groggy nod—the champagne is still making your head swim.

'good girl,' he praises, and you respond with a genuine smile.

coriolanus grunts heavily, his balls tightening, and he feels hot spurts of cum spurt out from the tip of his cock. the relief that washes over him is blissful; watching you take every last drop of him makes him sigh deeply. you can't help but squirm at the sticky feeling as he thrusts his cum back up into you. you're trying not to lurch away in disgust—his hands, now clamping down on your shoulders, are keeping you there, close to him.

when he pulls out, he gazes at your weeping cunt in awe as his cum trickles down your thighs. you’ll always be his—he can see that by the tiny smudge of blood that also coats your inner thigh on one side. he doesn’t know if he can bear to sell you to those other men now; perhaps he’ll just have to lock you up here and keep you all to himself.

‘thank you, mr president,’ you murmur, half on the verge of sleep.

your body is humming with exhaustion, and you begin to curl up into a supine position, trying to force away the uncomfortable combination of his sticky cum and the dull ache between you thighs.

‘i’ll be back tomorrow,’ he presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing a few tendrils of hair out of your half-closed eyes. ‘don’t think you can get away from me now, my pretty victor.’

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copinghex · 7 months ago

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Family bonds | T.S

Summary: After a hurtful comment at a fundraising event, you wonder what really bonds Tommy to your child.

A/N: Ok, so as I previously mentioned, I edited some of my old stories and will be reposting one per week. This is the first selected!

"Do you want to sit?" Tommy whispered in your ear, your hand went straight to your belly, moving up and down, where you baby rests and patiently waits to be born.

"No, I'm fine, just take this gin away from me, otherwise I'll be tempted," you pushed his glass away, "are the cute kids working?"

"The wives look more excited than the men, but yeah, four huge donations until now,"

"In less than two hours? That's a new record!"

This was probably the best business idea you ever had. The inauguration ceremony of the Shelby Institute for orphaned children took place in a cozy room, with closed windows and lighted up fireplaces, the cold breeze freezing the bones of anyone who dared to attend without a coat.

Months later, spring came to warm your bones and put a self-giving feeling into Thomas Shelby's heart. In the middle of a boring, typical week, he arrived home planning to uplift the structure of the institute's building.

He told you the idea during the night, with his hand resting on your pregnant belly and although he didn't tell you what made him come up with it, you could clearly see his line of thought.

Tommy could rarely afford nice things, there was no gentleness in survival and for most of his life, that was all he did. Finally, with his rise to new money, he could provide something he never had to children who look too much like him - comfort. Also, being seen as a charitable person would do no harm to the business.

The small change of plans you suggested put a smile on his face, instead of making a typical fundraising dinner, why not make an afternoon tea? The invitations encourage couples to bring their children, seeing those innocent little humans running around shall make them remember why to donate.

A mansion with a huge garden was rented for the event, maids were hired to look after the children and butlers served biscuits and hot cups of tea. For your surprise, the event had more children than adults, most couples - including you and Tommy - were outnumbered by their children.

Your eyes ran through the garden trying to find your little ones, the younger one was the easiest, no place was safest than inside your own mama, but it was better to keep an eye on the other three. Marie Louise Adler, whose hair looked exactly like yours. The twins, Henry and William Shelby, except for the eyes, are small versions of Tommy, from the physical appearance to the mannerism.

Quickly, you found William trying to teach one of John's girls how to use a slingshot. A few steps away, Henry had a handful of biscuits and carried a toy car made of wood.

"Where is Loui-'' before you could ask, a collective ugh followed by a child's cry got your attention.

Louise was under a tree with her knees on the grass, the hem of her yellow dress covered in dirt and the left leg of her white stockings ruined, exposing her bruised knee. Tommy reacted faster than you, his hand slid through your waist as he ran in her direction. You quickly followed after, rolling up the sleeves of your dress.

He picked Louise up, she put her arms around his neck and seemed to calm down a bit. A maid tried to apologize for neglecting your little girl, but you were too focused on following Tommy inside to answer.

Curious eyes followed your trio while you crossed the hallway and once you were in a private room, Tommy tried to put Louise on a sofa, but she didn't want to let go.

"C'mon, love," he encouraged, making her lift her crying face from his neck and allow him to sit her down.

"What happened, Lou?" you took her hair off her face and her stockings off, watching out to not brush her bruised knee.

"I was trying to climb on the tree, but I got scared and slipped up," she brushed off tears with her tiny hands.

Tommy took a napkin and wetted it with gin, after kneeling in front of the girl, he asked, "And what did me and mama say, eh?"

She looked down, ashamed of disobeying.

"You can only climb trees when me or daddy are around to help," you rubbed her back, trying to comfort her.

"I'm sorry," she pouted.

"Now I have to clean your knee, it's full of dirt," Tommy held her leg.

"No! It 's gonna hurt!" she pulled her leg back.

"Just a little, but don't think about it," you sat at her side, holding her head to your chest, "think about the delicious cake I'll get you when we get home!"

"Can we get some too?!" William, who'd been peeking the whole scene from the door, suddenly yelled, Henry tried to shush him and ended up being dragged by the hand into the room.

"Boys! How long have you been there?"

"It was William! He had the idea of following you!" Henry quickly accused.

"That 's not true! You were curiou-"

"Alright, boys, it doesn't matter," Tommy silenced the argument before it started, playfully hitting the twins foreheads with the napkin.

While you were distracted by the kids, Tommy had taken care of Louise's knee and the five of you were finally allowed to go back to the event.

Louise insisted Tommy should carry her, Henry and William took your hands and the eyes of many guests softened to the vision of you walking together.

Soon, the kids dispersed in the garden, Tommy got the attention of charitable housewives, interested in donating to the institute, you leaned on an empty table, sipping your favorite juice and smiling at anyone who crossed your way.

"Mrs. Shelby!" an old woman walked to you with a huge smile, "I must say, this is the most diverse charity event I attended in years!"

"Oh, thank you so much, misses…"

"Thompson, Aline Thompson, nice to meet you," she shook your hand. "you don't drink?"

"Usually I do, but I'm pregnant,"

"Darling! That's lovely! Your husband is already so lucky to have two kids, now one more!"

"Three," you corrected her.

"Pardon?"

"Thomas and I have three children, Henry, William and Louise,"

"Well, if that's the case, I guess you're the lucky one, Mr. Shelby indeed treats the girl as if she's his,"

"Hm," you pressed your lips together. "may I ask who told you Louise isn't Tommy's?"

"It's written in the guest list, Y/N Adler Shelby and Louise Adler, I'm sorry for Mr. Adler, I'm sure he was a good man," she smiled, "now, if you excuse me,"

Aline left you with teary eyes, how dared she speak about your family like this? But what if…? What if she was right? Did Tommy really love Louise? Did he see her as his daughter or an extension of you?

"Seven, Louise falling over had a good effect on them," Tommy held your arm, telling you about the new huge donations.

"Really? That's great, love,"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just a bit tired,"

"I'll tell the driver to take you home,"

"No! There’s still a few hours to go,"

"Ada will take your place, most of the guests are leaving already anyway,"

"Oh, alright then," you drawled.

"Will you take the kids?"

"Yeah, I think," you looked around, searching for them, "just Louise, the boys look like they're having fun, can you look after them?"

"Sure."

The way home was quiet, Louise had asked to rest on your leg and fell into deep sleep, Frances helped you to carry her to bed. After a well-deserved bath, you had put some foundation's papers in order so Tommy could add today's profit without any problem. Night was falling and all you could do was wait for the rest of your family to arrive.

Heading upstairs, your eyes fixed in a spot they usually didn't, the family painting. It took months of persuasion for Tommy to agree to pose and even longer for it to be done, since he only agreed to give away two hours of his agenda.

Your heads leaned together in a sign of unquestionable affection, Louise sat in the middle, where your right and Tommy's left leg stuck together. William was on your left leg and Henry on Tommy's right, they were less than two years old and didn't get a characteristic Shelby haircut yet. All in all, you looked like a family, no one would dare to say otherwise, unless Aline Thompson.

The sound of the front door opening followed by the maid's heels told you Tommy arrived, you decided to wait in the stairs and he showed up alone.

"Where's Henry and William?" you asked with furrowed brows.

"At Ada's, they wanted a sleepover with Karl,"

While you both walked upstairs, he had a hand on your lower back and you realized he didn't ask about Louise, the very first thing you did when Tommy arrived was to ask about your kids, Tommy didn't even bother, probably because Louise wasn't his.

Time passed quietly, Tommy took a bath and asked a few questions about the paperwork, you told him to add today's profit and nodded to whatever else he said. Night could have been good, or at least, peaceful.

He sat on the bed looking through his paperwork and his sudden warning made your jaw clench, "You have a doctor's appointment scheduled for tomorrow, so be home when he arrives,"

"What for?"

"To check on our girl," he answered without paying attention.

"How do you know it's a girl?"

"This pregnancy it's different from the boy's,"

"Oh," you lay down, turning your back on him, "I'm glad you at least care about this girl,"

He sighed and you heard him writing something, a few seconds passed until he asked, "What did you say?"

You didn't answer.

"Y/n, what do you mean?" he touched your shoulder, trying to make you look at him.

"Nothing, Tommy, nothing,"

"No, what the fuck you mean with this girl?"

You sat up, taking a good look at his face before questioning, "How many children do we have, Tommy?"

"Three and another one on the way," he harshly answered and you sighed in relief.

"This is what you say to everyone else, right? Not just to me,"

"Yeah, y/n, of course, why would you fucking ask that?"

You teared up and Tommy's face softened, he cupped your face, catching some tears and patiently waiting for you to speak.

"You only have three, Tommy, the twins and this one," you rubbed your belly.

"Who said that?" he looked at you with disbelief.

"It's the truth,"

"Louise is my child,"

"You know she's not, I know it, you know it, and-"

"Y/n-"

"Aline Thompson fucking knows it,"

"Who 's Aline Thompson?"

"It doesn't matter, Tommy,"

"It fucking does, if there's someone around saying Louise isn't my child, then I have to know,"

"It won't change the facts."

"Listen," he moved closer to you and cupped your face again, "Louise is my child, I'm raising her, she's a Shelby."

"Then why didn't you ask about her when you arrived?"

"I asked Frances, she told me she's sleeping since evening,"

"Oh," your cheeks heated up, ashamed of this huge misunderstanding.

"Who's Aline Thompson?"

"A stupid woman at the charity tea, she said I was lucky for you treating Louise as your own,"

"Lucky, eh?" he nodded, "I bet her husband has a deal with the Shelby Company,"

"No, Tommy!" you giggle.

"Oh, just a few pounds to lose,"

"Tommy! You're mean! Not that she doesn't deserve it,"

Hesitant knocks on the door made you stop laughing, you and Tommy switched a look before he got up and opened the door.

"I'm sorry to bother, Mr. Shelby," a young maid holding Louise's hands apologized, "but Louise wants to sleep with you,"

Too sleepy to speak, your daughter rubbed her eyes and walked past Tommy, climbing on the bed and laying near you.

"Right, thank you-"

"Oh, also, Mrs. Thorne called, the twins want to come home."

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #reader insert

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maxlarens · 7 months ago

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i promise i'm writing my max oneshot CURRENTLY but i had to get the sillies out about this really badly. australian spring/summer i love u i love u i love u!!!! also at this point i think the difference between a one shot and drabble on this account is non existent and simply based on vibes. this is only a one shot bcs it feels a bit more coherent i suppose?

LN: australia street

pairing(s): lando norris x piastri!reader, oscar piastri & piastri!reader

word count: 1.3k+

It all feels very familiar, nostalgic even— though you've never been in quite this situation before. With Oscar sure; you always rope your brother into doing things when you're in Australia again. But this is the first time that Lando's joined you.

It's nice, to be home.

Not that it's yours or Oscar's home anymore (that's not true. It always will be, no matter where in the world you jet off to). It's certainly not Lando's. It's hard to put words to the feeling, you just know it's nice.

You're driving, of course, because Oscar and Lando can never decide which of the two of them should drive. So you'd snatched the keys to the Piastri family '96 Holden Commodore and slammed the driver door behind you before either of them could say boo. Lando had snagged the passenger seat in a mad dash that you'd watched play out in the rear-view mirror, while Oscar had complained all the way to the backseat.

"Whered'ya wanna go?", you half turn your head to ask Oscar, checking your blind spot at the same time.

Oscar hums as he thinks. You can feel Lando's eyes burning a hole into the side of your face.

"Do you remember that fish and chips shop—"

You do, "Where Dad used to take us? Yeah, it closed down," then you add, "Besides, Lando hates fish. Jeez, Osc."

"Ah fuck," Oscar groans, "That sucks."

Lando makes a noise, indignant, "I can't believe you forgot. It's my one thing."

Oscar rolls his eyes, "It's not your one thing, Lando. You have plenty of things."

They start to bicker, devolving into an argument that you only understand about half of, about pet peeves and the things the other one does that get on the other’s nerves. You chime in a few times to agree about Oscar’s annoying habits, the things you'd grown up complaining to your Mum about. Quietly to yourself, you decide on a route to an old Italian place you know is still kicking around— they won't mind.

You roll your window down, feel the balmy spring breeze in your hair, on your face. It smells like the bloom of jasmine flowers, of warmth, of the smoke of people BBQ-ing in their backyards. You breathe deeply, absently aware of the petered-out conversation. Oscar dozing in the backseat like he always does. Lando looking out the other window, watching gum trees and bottlebrush on the sides of the road. 'M looking for koala’s he'd said the other day, which had made you laugh. You'd been tempted to tell him about drop bears, but you're sure that Daniel had already warned him of the dangers.

"Do you miss it here?", Lando asks suddenly.

"Mm," you affirm, "I do."

"A lot?"

You shrug at the question, not sure why he's pressing it, "Sure, Lan."

"Then why do you travel with Oscar?", you spare a glance at him, he's fiddling with a bracelet on his wrist, the one you'd made him that matched the one you'd made Oscar that matched the one you wore, "Don't you want to, y'know, settle down here?"

You raise an eyebrow, scoff a little, "God, I'm not an old maid, dude. I'm not ready to pop out babies yet. Far out."

"No, no," he's blushing, you know he is, you don't even need to check, his tan cheeks growing a little darker, redder, "Fuck. That's not what I meant. You know what I meant."

You snicker. You do. But Lando is fun to rile up.

A latent sigh leaves your mouth, "I dunno," you admit, "It's my favourite place. But I have the rest of my life to come back, and besides, it's more special like this. I appreciate it more when I'm only here for a short time."

Lando hums, turning your words over in his head. You think he may be about to say something else—

"Do you like it here, Lan?"

You're not sure why you ask. No, you are. There's this fantasy that keeps floating around in your head. Little bits of it have been coming true on this trip. Lando standing in the garage with your Dad, talking about project cars and then showing him grease covered parts, explaining where they'll eventually end up. Your Mum roping you, Lando and Oscar into helping her cut vegetables at the kitchen counter. Your younger sisters giving you loaded looks behind Lando's back, you trying to pretend you have no idea what they mean by them. It's a pipedream, it's weird and you need to stop doing it.

But you can't. Sometimes, you look at Lando and your thoughts just pick up and run away with themselves.

Lando nods in answer to your question, "'Course. It's very," he trails off, fingers finding the beads on his bracelet again, he hums, "It's very you. Hm, does that make sense?"

You feel warm all of a sudden. Something creeps up your neck, settles at the base of your skull. You blink a few times, remind yourself to focus on the road.

You skitter out a laugh, an awkward thing, you're trying not to look at him, your hands tight on the wheel, "Yeah— uh— it does. I s'pose."

You lapse into silence for a short while. The sky is eggshell orange and purple and red, stretching out in front of you. Punctuated by the star-brightness of the street lights, terracotta tiled roofs and the shadowed branches of towering Eucalyptus trees. It fills you with a feeling you can't name— there's nothing else quite like it out there. Not in London, not in Monaco, not in any of the many other cities you've traveled to or lived in for a stint.

They're all gorgeous and interesting in their own right, but they don't live up to the special peculiarities of suburban Australia. The flash of a possum's eyes where it's skittering across a powerline. The faint sounds of kookaburras laughing as dusk falls. The glow of families watching TV in living rooms coming through screen doors left unlocked. Old men tinkering in wide open garages. Wheelie bins with red and yellow lids out on the curb— cricket stumps painted on the sides.

It’s special. In the way that home is always special.

Then Lando says, apropos of nothing, “Pretty.”

“Huh.”

He shrugs, gestures around at the neighbourhood, “It’s pretty. Warm too. I can see why your parents live here. Raised you guys here. I can see myself doing that.”

You decide not to tell him about the bipolarity of Melbourne weather. Cold to hot to wet to dry to gusty all in a few hours. You let him enjoy the rare consistent spring day. And you try not think about what he’s saying, what he’s admitting. You try not to think about what you might be admitting, driving him through streets you used to play in, to places you used to go with your family, talking about settling down, like it’s on the horizon anytime soon.

It’s not�� you’ve not met anyone to settle down with.

At least you don’t think you have.

It’s certainly not Lando, in the passenger seat of the old family car, fresh off a day of meeting your grandparents for fuckssake and taking a tour of your childhood bedroom. Laughing at your old boyband posters and the teenage girl shrine you’d kept to Niki Lauda. It can’t be Lando, who you turn to when you can’t turn to your brother, who gives you his hoodies when you’re cold even though he’s colder, who’s come on a bloody trip to Australia in his four week break because you’d said you wouldn’t know what to do without him for that long.

It can’t. It’s not.

He’s talking in hypotheticals and you’re getting carried away with yourself again. Like you always do.

listened to this playlist while writing😌

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #oneshots:ln4

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unconventional-lawnchair · 2 months ago

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It Repeats Itself

Platonic! Remus x Werewolf! Reader

Summary: Even years after the war the effects of Voldemort's reign still had waves of effects. One just so happened to have a poor girl caught in the cross fire. (This is more of a concept then a fleshed out story-a little cliche)

WC: 3.7k

CW: Death, blood, werewolf attack, break in, severally injured kid (the reader), parent death, Remus calls the reader Star, this is an intense blurb I would very much recommend making sure you are in the right headspace for it.

The forest was eerily quiet as Remus and Sirius made their way up the narrow dirt path, the trees casting long shadows in the dim afternoon light. The scent of rain lingered in the air, mingling with something far more sinister- blood. It was faint, but unmistakable.

“Something’s not right,” Remus muttered, his grip tightening on his wand.

Sirius adjusted his leather jacket, a grim expression darkening his face. “You think Greyback’s been through here?”

“Has to be,” Remus replied. “It’s his signature, isn’t it? Isolated homes, far from help, and-” He paused, catching a stronger whiff of blood on the breeze.

“And families,” Sirius finished grimly, his voice edged with disgust.

The cottage came into view, nestled in a clearing like a forgotten relic. Its once-pristine exterior was scarred with claw marks, the front door hanging askew on its hinges.

“Let me guess,” Sirius said dryly, gesturing to the faint family crest above the door- a pair of intertwined serpents engraved in silver. “Purebloods. Old family, by the looks of it.”

“Ardent supporters of the old ways,” Remus said, his tone bitter. He remembered their names now: a husband and wife who’d made their opinions of “tainted blood” abundantly clear at Ministry functions. They’d scoffed at Muggleborns, sneered at anyone less than pure, and gone out of their way to avoid creatures like him. Moved away to avoid creatures like this.

Sirius snorted humorlessly. “Imagine the irony. Spent their whole lives preaching about blood purity, and now look- Greyback probably didn’t even spare them a second thought. Werewolves aren’t picky about their prey, are they?”

Remus shot him a sharp look but didn’t respond, his mind too focused on the task ahead. It wasn’t the time for old grievances, no matter how tempting it was to dwell on it.

“They’re still victims,” Remus said quietly, more to himself than to Sirius.

Sirius sighed. “Yeah. Even if they’d have called us both abominations.”

They stepped onto the porch, the wooden boards creaking beneath their weight. The door groaned as Sirius pushed it open, revealing a scene of chaos. Furniture lay overturned, claw marks marred the walls, and blood spattered the floor in dark, sticky pools.

“Merlin,” Sirius whispered, his voice hollow. “He really did a number on this place.”

Remus moved carefully through the cottage, his wand casting a soft glow in the dim morning light that filtered through the broken windows. The scent of blood grew stronger with each step, mingling with the acrid tang of fear and violence. His chest tightened as he pushed open the door to the sitting room.

There, crumpled together like broken dolls, were the bodies of the couple. Their once-elegant robes were soaked through with dark, congealing blood, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. Claw marks shredded their clothing and the carpet beneath them, and it was clear they’d fought to the bitter end.

Remus stared for a long moment, his jaw clenching as his grip on his wand tightened. These were the same people who would have turned their noses up at him at Ministry gatherings, who would have crossed the street to avoid being near him. And yet, he felt no satisfaction in their deaths. Only a hollow ache.

“They didn’t deserve this,” He murmured to the empty room, his voice heavy with sorrow.

“Remus!” Sirius’s voice cut through the silence, sharp but low, barely above a whisper.

Remus spun around, his heart pounding. There was an urgency in Sirius’s tone that set him on edge. He quickly made his way back down the hallway, past the overturned furniture and shattered glass, following the sound of Sirius’s voice.

“Sirius?” He called, his voice equally low.

“Here,” Sirius hissed from a room at the back of the house.

The room was a bedroom- small, with faded wallpaper of enchanted stars that still flickered faintly despite the destruction. It was clearly a child’s room, but like the rest of the house, it was a wreck. The bed was overturned, sheets torn and spattered with blood. Broken toys and shattered picture frames littered the floor.

Remus’s stomach churned as he stepped inside. They weren't told a child stayed here. The air was thick, suffocating, and the coppery scent of blood was overwhelming here. Sirius stood near the wardrobe, his expression grim as he gestured silently to the floor.

Remus followed his gaze and felt acid rise in his throat. A thin trail of blood, smeared and uneven, led from the bed to the wardrobe. Tiny handprints streaked the floor, desperate and frantic.

“They dragged themselves,” Sirius said quietly, his voice unusually subdued. “From the bed to here.”

Remus swallowed hard, his grip on his wand tightening. He knelt slowly, the bile in his throat threatening to rise as he stared at the wardrobe door. It was closed, but faint scratches marred its surface, as if small fingers had clawed at it from the inside.

“Greyback doesn't spare anyone,” Sirius muttered bitterly, though there was a flicker of something in his voice- hope, maybe, that he was wrong.

Remus reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he placed it on the wardrobe’s handle. The scent of blood and fear was stronger here, mingling with something else- something faint but unmistakable: life.

“She’s in there,” Remus said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius nodded, his wand ready but pointed away. “Go slow. Don’t scare her.”

Remus inhaled deeply, steadying himself before gently pulling the wardrobe door open.

Inside, huddled in the corner amidst a pile of torn blankets and broken toys, was a little girl. Her knees were pulled tightly to her chest, her small hands clutching at her side where a bloodied piece of fabric had been tied haphazardly. Her wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto Remus, and her lips trembled as she held up a tiny shard of glass in a shaking hand.

“Stay back!” She hissed, her voice hoarse and weak but filled with a fierce, trembling determination. “I’ll hurt you!”

Remus froze, his heart breaking at the sight of her. Her face was pale, smudged with dirt and blood, and her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps. She was small, fragile, but there was a fire in her eyes that reminded him all too much of himself at that age- terrified, cornered, and desperate to fight back. He felt guilty as he felt relief. Seeing an injured child was far better then the alternative.

“Hey,” he said softly, lowering his wand and holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Sirius crouched beside him, his expression unusually gentle. “We’re here to help, little one,” he said, his voice quieter than Remus had ever heard it. “You’re safe now.”

The girl’s lips quivered, but she pressed herself further into the corner, clutching the shard of glass tighter. It nicked her skin and she hissed, dropping it. She watched in horror as her last line of defense was shattered into unmanageable sizes. The second she reached for it Remus held his hands up and she flinched back.

Sirius clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he glanced at Remus. “You’re scaring her, mate,” he said under his breath, his tone somewhere between teasing and concerned.

Remus sighed, lowering his hands slowly. “I’m not trying to,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving the girl. “But that glass could hurt you,” he said softly, addressing her directly. “I don’t want you to get hurt more than you already are.”

The girl’s lips trembled, and her wide, tear-streaked eyes darted between the two men. She clutched her side tighter, wincing as the movement sent another wave of pain through her small frame. Her hands, now empty of the glass shard, trembled in her lap as she pressed herself further into the corner of the wardrobe.

“Okay,” Remus said, his voice steady but gentle. “I’ll make you a deal.” He carefully removed his wand from his pocket, holding it delicately between two fingers as though it were something fragile. “This is my wand. It’s very important to me. I’ll give it to you- just so you know I won’t hurt you. Does that sound fair?”

The girl frowned, clearly confused, but her gaze flickered to the wand. Her lips parted as if to ask a question, but she quickly clamped them shut, her small body still shaking.

“It’s yours for now,” Remus said, placing the wand gently on the floor and nudging it toward her. “Just until you feel safe.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood, brushing the dust off his knees. “I’ll give you two a minute,” he muttered, stepping back toward the door. “I’m going to send a Patronus to Lily. Let her know we need help.”

Remus nodded without looking up, his focus still on the girl.

She hesitated for a long moment, her small hands twitching toward the wand before quickly pulling back, as if afraid it might bite. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she reached out and snatched it, clutching it tightly in her lap like a lifeline.

“There,” Remus said with a soft smile. “See? You’re in charge now.”

The girl stared at him, her tiny fingers gripping the wand so tightly her knuckles turned white. She still didn’t speak, her wide eyes filled with suspicion and fear.

“What’s your name?” Remus asked gently, sitting cross-legged on the floor to appear less intimidating.

She shook her head, her lips pressing into a firm line. “I’m not allowed to talk to strangers,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Remus’s heart twisted, but he nodded slowly, respecting her caution. “That’s very smart,” he said. “You’re absolutely right. I am a stranger. How about this- can I give you a nickname? Something just for now, until you feel safe enough to tell me your real name?”

The girl hesitated, her small brow furrowing. After a moment, she gave the faintest of nods.

“Alright,” Remus said, his voice warm and steady. “How about… Star? You have stars on your wallpaper,” he gestured gently toward the flickering patterns on the walls, “and I think it suits you.”

Her lips quirked upward ever so slightly, though it disappeared almost as quickly as it came. “Star?” she repeated, her voice soft and unsure.

“Star,” Remus confirmed with a small smile. “Do you like it?”

The girl gave a tiny nod, her grip on the wand loosening just a fraction. “It’s… okay,” she said quietly, her voice trembling less than before.

“Okay is good,” Remus replied, his heart lifting just a little. “Okay is a start.”

Behind him, Sirius’s voice echoed faintly from the hallway as he sent his Patronus, its silvery light spilling into the room for just a moment before fading. Remus turned back to Star, his gentle smile never faltering.

“We’re going to take care of you, Star,” he said softly. “I promise. You’re not alone anymore.”

Star didn’t reply, but the way she held the wand a little closer to her chest and let out a shaky breath told him enough. It was a step- a small one, but a step all the same.

~~~

The trek back to Grimmauld Place was tense and quiet. Star clung to Remus like her life depended on it, her tiny fingers gripping his robes tightly as though letting go would mean being left behind. She had refused to let go of his wand, holding it protectively against her chest as her small frame shuddered against him.

Sirius walked ahead, his posture rigid as he cast wary glances over his shoulder, keeping a sharp eye out for any lingering danger. He didn’t speak much, only murmuring the occasional reassurance when Star flinched at a sound in the forest or the rustle of the wind.

When they finally stepped through the front door of Grimmauld Place, Star’s wide, frightened eyes darted around the dim hallway, her grip on Remus tightening even more.

“It’s okay,” Remus whispered to her, his voice soft and soothing. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

Lily and Regulus were waiting in the kitchen, their faces pale but determined. The moment they saw Star in Remus’s arms, their expressions shifted- Lily’s to one of heartbreak, and Regulus’s to quiet resolve.

“Merlin, she’s so small,” Lily murmured, stepping closer. Her gaze flickered to the bloodied fabric at Star’s side, and her lips pressed into a firm line. “She needs healing, Remus. That wound-”

“I know,” Remus interrupted gently, his voice steady but laced with tension. “But it’s going to take some coaxing.”

He crouched down, keeping Star close as he met her wary gaze. “Star, this is my friend Lily,” he said softly, gesturing to the red-haired woman with a warm smile. “She’s very kind, and she’s going to help you feel better. And that’s Regulus- he’s nice too, though he might look a bit scary at first.”

Regulus huffed quietly, but the corner of his mouth twitched in the faintest hint of a smile.

Star’s grip on Remus didn’t ease, her body trembling as her gaze darted between the strangers.

“I’ll stay right here,” Remus promised. “And you can hold onto my wand the whole time. But Lily needs to look at your side, okay? It’ll hurt less after she’s done.”

After a long, agonizing moment, Star gave the smallest of nods, though her grip on Remus’s robes remained firm. Lily approached carefully, her movements slow and deliberate, while Regulus prepared potions and bandages in the background.

It took time and quiet reassurances, but eventually, they managed to ease Star away from Remus long enough for Lily and Regulus to tend to her wound. The moment they were done, Star returned to Remus’s side, clutching his wand once more and burying her face against his chest.

~~~

The house had quieted as you finally fell asleep, tucked safely in one of the upstairs rooms. Remus sat at the kitchen table, his head resting in his hands, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. Sirius leaned against the counter, his arms crossed, while Lily and Regulus sat across from Remus, their expressions heavy with concern.

“She wouldn’t let me leave,” Remus said softly, his voice barely audible. “Even for a second. I had to let her take my wand just to get her to let Lily near her.”

“She trusts you,” Lily said gently. “It’s a good thing, Remus. You made her feel safe.”

“But for how long?” Remus asked, his voice thick with frustration. “We can’t just take her to an orphanage, or the Ministry. Not if she’s been bitten.”

Before Lily could continue, the door to the kitchen creaked open. Everyone shifted to watch as James entered, holding a crying Harry’s hand.

The kitchen fell silent as the door creaked open. Harry’s soft sniffles broke the quiet as he toddled in, his tiny hand clutching James’s finger tightly. His face was red and tear-streaked, his little shoulders shaking from the remnants of a tantrum.

“Sorry to interrupt,” James said, his voice hushed but wry. “Someone decided he didn’t want to stay asleep after Lily and Reg went rushing out in the middle of the night.” He gently steered Harry toward Lily, who immediately stood to scoop him into her arms.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Lily cooed, pressing a kiss to Harry’s damp cheek as he buried his face in her shoulder. “Did we wake you? I’m so sorry, love.”

James stepped forward, his hand brushing affectionately against Regulus’s back as he leaned in to kiss him softly on the temple. Then he turned to Lily, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before settling himself against the counter beside Sirius.

His sharp eyes scanned the room, noticing the tension lingering like a storm cloud. His smile faded slightly. “Alright,” he said, folding his arms. “What’s going on? You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Sirius let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Not a ghost, exactly,” he said, glancing toward Remus, who sat stiffly at the table. “But close.”

James frowned, his gaze narrowing. “Remus?”

Remus sighed, lifting his head from his hands. The exhaustion etched into his face was now accompanied by a deep sadness. “We found a child,” he said softly, his voice strained. “At the cottage Greyback attacked.”

James’s frown deepened, and he straightened up. “A child? Are they alright?”

“She’s alive,” Lily interjected gently, rocking Harry in her arms as she spoke. “But she’s hurt. And… it looks like she’s been bitten.”

James’s face hardened, his jaw clenching as he processed her words. “Bloody hell,” He muttered. “Greyback?”

Remus nodded, his hands gripping the edge of the table tightly. “She’s four,” he said quietly, his voice trembling just slightly. “Same age I was when…” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

James swore under his breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “And what happens now?” he asked, his tone more subdued. “We can’t exactly hand her over to the Ministry, can we?”

“No,” Remus said firmly, his voice gaining a little strength. “We’re not handing her over to anyone. Not to the Ministry, and definitely not to some orphanage. If she’s been bitten, we all know what they’ll do to her.”

“They’ll treat her like a monster,” Regulus said quietly, his voice cold and sharp. “Lock her away, or worse.”

James nodded grimly. “Alright, so we keep her here,” he said, glancing around the room. “She’ll be safe with us.”

“And then what?” Sirius asked, his tone more serious than usual. “We can keep her safe for now, but she’s a child, Prongs. A scared, bitten child. This isn’t just a temporary fix.”

“Then we’ll find her something permanent,” Remus said, his voice unwavering. He looked around at the group, his gaze steady and determined. “She doesn’t have anyone else. I’ll take care of her. I’ll make sure she’s safe until we find an alternative.”

Lily’s eyes softened as she looked at Remus. Their eyes had a silent exchange- clear worry etched into every expression. “You’re sure?” She asked gently.

“I'm sure,” Remus replied, his voice resolute. “I’m not letting her go through what I did. Not alone. You saw how she was.. she doesn't want anyone near her.”

James nodded, clapping a hand on Remus’s shoulder. “Then we’ll help you,” he said firmly. “Whatever you need, Moony. We’re in this together.”

The sudden sound of shuffling and muffled sobbing broke through the tense quiet of Grimmauld Place, cutting through the conversation like a knife. It was faint but unmistakable, coming from upstairs where Star had been put to bed.

Everyone froze.

Lily’s eyes darted toward the staircase, and Regulus immediately stood, his wand already in hand. Sirius pushed off the counter, his usual confidence replaced with an edge of urgency. But it was Remus who moved first.

The moment Star’s frightened cry echoed down the stairs, it was as if a switch flipped inside him. His chair scraped back with a sharp screech, and before anyone could react, he was out of the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time. His instincts roared louder than his thoughts, Moony taking over as his protective instincts surged.

“Remus!” James called after him, already moving to follow, but Sirius stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Let him,” Sirius muttered, his voice low but steady. “Just- give him a moment.”

~~~

Remus reached the small room where you had been resting, his heart hammering in his chest. The door was slightly ajar, the soft glow of the enchanted lamp spilling into the dark hallway. He could hear her whimpering now, her breaths hitching with each quiet sob.

He pushed the door open gently, stepping inside. You were huddled on the bed, your small frame trembling as you clutched his wand tightly to your chest. Your wide eyes darted toward him, filled with panic, and you let out a small, broken cry.

“Remus!” You whimpered, her voice cracking.

“I’m here,” He said softly, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and crouched beside the bed, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Your small fingers tightened around his wand, her tiny knuckles turning white. You blinked up at him, her tears streaking through the grime on her face. “I-I thought you left,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Remus felt his heart twist painfully at her words. He reached out slowly, placing his hand palm-up on the edge of the bed, giving her the choice to take it. “I’ll never do that,” he promised, his voice firm but gentle. “I’m right here, Star. Yeah?.”

You hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering between his face and his hand. Then, slowly, you released your grip on the wand just enough to reach out and grab his hand with both of hers. Her small fingers clung to him desperately, as if letting go would make him disappear.

“You’re safe now,” Remus murmured, his other hand moving to gently brush the hair from her tear-streaked face. “Nothing will hurt you here. I won’t let it.”

You let out a shaky breath, your small frame still trembling as you leaned toward him. Without thinking, Remus lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. You buried your face in his shoulder, your sobs quieting but not stopping entirely.

Behind him, the faint creak of footsteps signaled Sirius’s arrival. He lingered in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he watched Remus hold you. After a moment, he stepped inside, his movements uncharacteristically cautious.

“She okay?” Sirius asked quietly, his voice softer than usual.

Remus nodded, his hand gently rubbing Star’s back. “She thought we’d left her.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something dangerous flashing in his eyes. “No one’s leaving her,” he said firmly. “Not now. Not ever.”

Your grip on Remus tightened at Sirius’s words, her small voice muffled against his shoulder. “Don’t go…”

Remus held her closer, his resolve hardening. “I’m not going anywhere, Star,” he said softly. “I promise.”

And in that moment, he knew- no matter what challenges lay ahead, no matter how difficult the road might be- he would do whatever it took to keep that promise. You weren't just a scared child they’d rescued. You were his. He knew it the moment he found you in that closet.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #remus x reader #remus lupin #sirius black x reader #jegulily #james x lily #regulus black x lily evans #james x regulus #harry potter masterlist #Dad Remus #werewolf!reader #platonic #found family

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hellishjoel · 2 months ago

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catching flights and snowflakes

616 words / pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

← masterlist | notifications blog | seasons of life challenge masterlist

word: snow

warnings/information: established relationship, pure fluff

a/n: this is me re-writing my author's note because my queue failed me! so I'm just getting around to seeing this and properly posting my seasons of life challenge masterlist and my first post ((now a day late >:[)) - my banners are by @saradika-graphics <3 shoutout to @berryispunk and @lady-bess for putting this together on @fanfictionoverload!

“You’re going to freeze your ass off,” you warn your Florida-born and-raised boyfriend Frankie, whose half-packed suitcase consists of breezy button-ups and cargo shorts.

His adorably confused expression glances from his open suitcase to your dubious look. “How cold can it be? Thirty degrees sounds like nothin’.” He sassily retorts, pinching your chin between his fingers and thumb as he angles your chin upward so that he can place a soft kiss on your lips.

It’s his first Christmas visiting your side of the family. You were leaving palm trees behind for Castleton green pines, and his wardrobe was drastically underprepared.

“Let’s see. Christmas in the Midwest will consist of thirty-degree temperatures, colder if there’s a windchill. You have no warm hat, gloves, or jeans without holes in the knees. The only type of boots you own are hiking boots, and those won’t keep you warm if we have to walk through the snow.”

There’s a glimmer in his eyes, something mischievous and almost kid-like. “You think there’s gonna be snow? A white Christmas?”

Frankie has always been devoted to the warmth that central Florida offers, never tempted to swap it for a colder climate. Snow is a rarity in his world—he's only experienced the occasional fleeting flurry. By the time those delicate flakes touched the ground, the warmth quickly melted them away, leaving no trace behind.

You didn’t promise him anything, especially with climate change and all, but as soon as your plane had touched down, fat white snowflakes passed by your airplane window with no agenda or intent. They were weightless, the reminder you needed to hold with you as the end of the year approached.

“Looks like you’re getting your wish,” you whisper to Frankie, interlocking your fingers with his as he joins you in staring out at the midnight blue velvet sky where snow begins to fall steadily.

Your heart soars as your boyfriend’s gaze lingers on every window you pass, from deboarding the plane to the grand floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the planes landing and departing on the tarmac. He couldn’t resist the excitement of his first real snowfall.

Having grown up with snow days that shut down schools and heavy flakes piling up inches at a time, you had almost forgotten how magical snow could be.

Frankie’s smile is unwavering, a grin stretched wide across his face as you exit the airport’s main entrance, scanning the lot for your dad’s truck.

“Baby,” he murmurs, his breath swirling in the icy air, visible like a fleeting ghost in front of his face. “I can finally do it, just like in the movies.” Frankie’s excitement spills over as he drops his duffel bag on the sidewalk with a thud, stepping boldly out from the shelter of the airport canopy into the falling snow. He tugs his jacket tighter around him, the cold air making his cheeks rosy. “We had snow once,” Frankie says, staring at the flakes. “Didn’t even stick. Mom made us cocoa just to celebrate.” He grins at the memory and looks down at you. “This? This is a whole other level.”

You giggle as Frankie sticks out his tongue and dives his head from side to side in search of a flake to land on his tongue. “You’re doin’ this with me,” He holds your hands and twirls you under the night sky, both of you chasing snowflakes and cheering when they eventually melt on your warm tongue.

“We should build a snowman tomorrow. This is perfect packing snow,” you remark casually, pressing your shoe into the thick, powdery layer already blanketing the ground.

Frankie’s eyes damn near bulge out of his head. “We can build a fucking snowman?!”

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #fuck yeah frankie #francisco morales #catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #SeasonsOfLifeChallenge #frankie morales

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bangtanficsforyou · 8 months ago

Text

Hello, Love (JJK)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, probable smut (we don't know yet lololol)

Rating: 18+

Summary: You had a plan when you returned home, seven years later. However, falling in love with your sister's fiance wasn't it.

Warning: mentions of drug addiction, familial neglect.

A/N: Based on a movie 😏📸. Also, here's a post explaining why I disappeared.

Playlist | Patreon

“So you’re getting married tomorrow, huh?” the rhetorical question slips from your mouth with a smile. A smile that in every way looks, forced.

You don’t know what you were thiniking. But a part of you, just wanted to have a conversation with your sister. Maybe you had hoped for it to be like one of those conversations. The kind that you’d see in movies, taking place between two sisters, when one is about to hit a big milestone.

Maybe a little reminscing about the old days. A little recallation of the past times when you both got into trouble. Joking about the embarassing moments. A little laughter, a few tears and hearts filled with warmth.

“Yes, I am,” your sister replies without bothering to look up.

You linger at the doorway for a moment and then realise how stupid you were.

You nod, knowing very well that this is pretty much the end of the conversation–if you could even call it that. You let the door shut quietly and slip out of the room.

Tomorrow, your sister is getting married. Your elder sister, to be more specific.

She is getting married to the man she loves, to the man she has been in a relationship with for seven years.

The man, who unfortunately happens to be the one you have fallen in love with, in the span of these last few weeks.

Oh how did you get into this mess and expect it to result into anything other than heartbreak?

SEVEN YEARS AGO

The loud music playing through the speakers tempts you to join the ongoing celebrations. You look at the joyful faces of your family members and a smile appears on your face. Lord knows when you will be seeing them next.

“Please take care of yourselves,” you whisper, knowing very well that you should leave as quickly as possible.

However, your gaze lingers on one person in particular. Your father. Oh, how you wish you could just hug him once before leaving. But that might not be a smart move. Your resolve might weaken on feeling his arms around you. No, you cannot afford that.

You take a deep inhale and turn away from the wedding celebrations. You march towards the exit gate with hurried steps. Your feet however, come to a halt when you spot one of your friends chatting with some guy near the gate. Shit. You turn away immediately and flee the spot before she can spot you.

Once you’re sure that there is no way for her to see you, you release a sigh of relief. You have no idea how you’d have explained the bags and luggage you’re currently carrying, had she seen you.

The thought of that makes you feel more urgency to leave this wedding venue. You look around frantically hoping that there would be some other gate. You do spot one, however, there stands your father’s uncle’s son’s son, who has seemingly found this to be the ideal smoking spot.

A few moments later, you come to the conclusion that there is indeed, only one way to escape this place. You need to climb over the wall.

You find a quiet place, away from the crowd, that has very dim lighting. You throw your bags over the wall and wait for the thud to confirm that your bags have landed on the other side. Then, you roll the sleeves of your shirt up and get ready for the difficult part; the climbing.

Thanks to your experience with tree climbing, you somehow successfully manage to climb the wall at your second attempt. However, it’s that wired fence that causes you more trouble than you would have ever imagined.

Somehow, it gets stuck to the back of your shirt in such an awkward position that you cannot even grab a hold of it properly. The only way for you to get your shirt unstuck would be to pull the piece of cloth hard enough. But then you cannot do that. It will tear your shirt and boy, where will you go and change now?

Slowly, very slowly, you move the shirt, hoping somehow, it would get freed from the wire.

Okay, so maybe a little this side–a little on the other–no, wait this is not–

“Are you leaving or are you arriving?”

A voice speaks, startling you to your very core. You look up and feel extremely relieved upon realising that this man happens to be someone who’s completely unknown to you.

“Well as of now, I’m stuck,” you trail off, hoping that the guy would catch the hint and help you.

Thankfully, he does.

He gathers a couple bricks that were laying around and tip toes on them for his hands to reach the wired fence. Despite not being able to see how the wire has gotten stuck in your shirt, his hand somehow still manages to do the job smoothly.

Once you’re free, you’re quick to get down. Dusting off your clothes, you pick your bags up. “Thank you, for helping me.”

“Considering that you got down on this side of the wall, I’m going to assume that you’re leaving.” He observes.

You look at him for a moment and then nod. “Yes, I am.”

“Do you need help with the bags?”

A smile appears on your lips at his words, as you think this guy is a little too nice for his own good. “Sure, that’d actually be helpful!”

Nodding he bends down to pick up the bags. He’s surprised when he realises how heavy your luggage actually is. “Damn, these are heavy.”

“I know,” you glance at your watch. “Let’s get going.”

It takes him a split second to process as you start walking immediately after the words are out of your mouth, without so much of a second glance at him. Your quick movements make him trail behind you, as you make your way through the playground which connects to the main road.

Having given up on catching up with you, he looks around and sees a bunch of kids playing football on one side of the ground. While the other side remains occupied with kids playing cricket. The scoreboard catches his attention as it reads “6 required from 3 balls”. That’s intense, he thinks.

His eyes remain fixed on the match as his feet continue to move. The bowler bowls and he watches with excitement as the batsman flicks it for a single. As the strike rotates, the scoreboard now changes to “5 required from 2 balls”.

The second last delivery of the match and much to his surprise, it’s a full toss. The ball connects right to the centre of the bat and goes straight in the air. His eyes follow the ball and he watches with a bated breath as he waits for it to be either a six or a four.

His jaw drops open, when the ball is caught–by you. You aim the ball straight at the stumps and before the runner can reach the crease, the ball hits the wickets, dismissing the bails.

“OUT!”

A unanimous shout breaks out, celebrating the wicket. The tension breaks as the match is now in favour of the defending side.

Suddenly, the bags aren’t as heavy as they were moments ago and he rushes to catch up with you. “That was such a cool throw.”

“Thanks,” you shoot him a smile.

“Do you play cricket?” He queries, his eyes shining bright with excitement.

“I once used to. Nowadays, I don’t really get the time to play.” You shrug. “I love watching cricket though.”

“Did you watch yesterday’s match?” His excitement heightens.

“No I didn’t, but I did watch the highlights.”

“You missed one of the greatest matches of all times,” he shakes his head, emphasising his point with a dreamy smile on his face.

“I just don’t like watching ODIs,” you comment. “I think cricket matches should be of twenty overs. Four hours and the match is done.”

“I mean sure, T20Is are good, they are explosive in nature,” he agrees. “But nothing beats the longer formats of cricket.”

“Well, i am yet to get the hang of them,” you muse. “Maybe someday, I will get the hang of ODIs.”

“Maybe a India VS Australia match would do it for you.”

“Oh! I live for the sledging in India-Australia matches.”

“But then, the real spirit of cricket is in test matches! Five long days for one match and yet the match might be a tie. It really does test a man’s patience,” he speaks, his hands moving animatedly with each word. “Maybe that’s why they are called test matches, you know?”

“Kudos to the players playing these matches, because I do not have the patience to watch a test match. Can’t imagine playing it.”

“You should try watching a good bilateral series sometime, I bet you’ll like it.”

“Oh, I have definitely tried watching test matches before and I remember in half an hour, the scoreboard changed from 243 to 245. That was pretty much it for me.”

Your words cause him to cackle. “Maybe someday, you’ll realise the beauty of test matches, who knows?”

“Maybe. Someday.”

A brief moment of silence falls between the both of you.

“Who’s your favourite player, right now?”

“Has to be Steve Smith!” You claim proudly, without a second thought.

“Dude has got a bright future in cricket, that’s for sure.”

“I love how smoothly he hits those shots. It’s a treat watching him,” you add, your admiration for the young player visible in your eyes.

He hums and lets the conversation die as you both approach the main road, which is from where he assumes you’re about to take some vehicle to continue the rest of your journey. His assumption is proved right when you start waving at a taxi approaching towards the both of you.

“Airport?” You ask and upon receiving a nod from the driver, you start loading your luggage in the car. Once everything is settled, you get in as well. Locking in the door, you wave at him and ask the driver to get going.

He watches as the taxi sets to motion with a small lingering smile on his face. He is about to turn around and leave when the car stops and you poke your head out of the window.

“You want to tag along?” You ask loudly to be heard through the newly made distance between the both of you.

He is bewildered on hearing your words. “But the wedding---,” he points in the direction where the wedding ceremony is being performed, instead of completing his sentence.

“Are you the one who's getting married?” You answer with another question.

“No,” he shakes his head, eyes wide with confusion. How on earth are you saying this so casually?

“Then come along.”

He cannot see the whole of your body as only a portion of it remains poking out of the window and he has only known you for a very brief moment, but for some unknown reason he feels so sure that you must have shrugged as you said those words. And for some odd reason, with how casually you’re treating the situation, he feels the oddness of the situation fade.

“I cannot just leave the wedding like that,” he replies.

“Okay, then. Have fun.”

You do not sound disappointed at all. You sound just as casual, he thinks.

“Have a safe journey,” he yells, as you retreat back inside the car.

A faint, i will, thank you, greet his ears and he shakes his head to himself. You are something, he thinks with that same smile as he heads back to the wedding.

“Dude, I met a 8.5 outside!” He tells his friend the moment he’s within earshot.

His friend doesn’t look at him as his gaze remains fixed somewhere else. “Forget about an 8.5. Look there, there’s a literal 10 right in front of your eyes.”

He follows his friend’s gaze and it leads him to one of the prettiest girls he has ever seen, in his entire life. A ten indeed.

“Wow.” The breathless one word sentence escapes his lips without his permission.

His friend smirks at the reaction. “She’s the bride’s sister. She’s a model but is soon going to feature in some short films.”

The words barely register in his head as the girl locks eyes with him. Maybe he wasn’t discreet with his gawking, after all. What absolutely leaves him speechless, however, is when the girl gives him a shy smile.

The interaction isn’t missed by his friend as he whistles slowly, before murmuring, “Here’s to hoping you’re smart enough to understand what that smile means.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook smut #Jungkook au #Jungkook ff #Jungkook scenarios #Jungkook series #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook bts #Angst #Fluff #Smut #Fic: hey

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darkfluffydragon · 10 months ago

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So uh, I ended up making a new...? AU with @amitiagailec and @blueshadowdad XD except it's not really a new AU.

Introducing, Decidit's Curse! A modern universe featuring Phantas/Knowledge (Phantasmagoria!Shadow Milk), Ternate Milk (fragment au! Shadow Milk), and Blueberry Milkshake (dad! Shadow Milk). Except they're now all brothers, with Phantas being the oldest, Ternate being the middle child, and Blueberry being the youngest.

There's a twist, Phantas and Ternate are both creatures! Ternate is a vampire and Phantas, uh, no one is quite sure what Phantas is. I'll focus on Phantas and Majesty here, and I'll leave the others to explain their side of the story >:3

I'll start from the very beginning. Originally, there were the five original virtues, baked by the witches themselves. Tasked to guide and help cookiekind prosper, they were sent down to earthbread. At first, they did as they were told. Being treated as divine beings, as heroes. Until, one by one, they began to corrupt. In an attempt to stop the creatures of their own creation, the witches shattered the souljams, fragmenting them and scattering them across the tree of life, where the shards would fall upon and settle within the blood and souls of unfortunate victims.

Each Virtue, each Beast, manifested into its own type of curse.

Sloth promotes corruption, within self and within others. Tempting those who will listen to fall into greed and cruelty.

Apathy becomes uncaring. They stop caring about what happens to people. Not exactly losing emotion, they have their own emotions. But they don't have sympathy or empathy. They only care about their own goals, not caring about what they have to do or the people they ruin to get to it. If that means the downfall of a country, so be it. It doesn't matter to them, not anymore.

Destruction grows impulsive, and more angry. They find it harder to hold back the violent urges, find it harder to care about the violent urges. Finds it easier to find it fun.

Silence is a void of mind. They become a shell of themselves, losing their voice, then their thoughts. Guided only by the hatred of the other curses, Silence only falls once the others have fallen too, as there is no one else left to keep them from slipping into complete solitude and isolation within their minds.

Deceit is a loss of identity. An inability to recall who they are, who they're supposed to be. Sometimes they never notice it at all.

Knowledge Phantasmagoria Decidit is the eldest brother of the Decidit family. After losing their parents, and gaining custody of his younger siblings, he would later gain a job at the government. Unknown to the general public, he works in the Creatures Department under the Director. After being tasked to research the confidential magic known as 'Dark Moon Magic', he suffers an unexplained death.

A month later, he reappears back at his home's doorsteps, looking as though he had dug his way out of his grave. Because he had. And he came back...off.

In this universe, there is an existence called the Angels. They have different names as well, such as Guardians, or Faeries. They are created by the witches and have one primary task: watch over the bearers of the curses and interfere if required.

Gods/elementals and other mythical creatures also exist, though are hidden away from normal society. The cookie suffix is no longer used, though curse bearers, angels and gods occasionally slip up when speaking.

Majesty (Phantasmagoria! Pure Vanilla) is Blueberry Milkshake's student. He was born with a frail body, so he grew up being in and out of hospitals. Due to this, he could not properly go to school and was tutored. One day, he didn't show up to class and Blueberry would later find out that Majesty was in critical condition.

Phantas, seeing his brother so distraught, decides to do some...tomfoolery, and cures Majesty.

Majesty is completely fine. Nothing is wrong at all. He still sees the eyes in his dreams, in his mind. His thoughts are not his own.

#fyp #cookie run #crk #cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #phantasmagoria crk #vanillaverse #dad shadow milk au #fragment au #decidit's curse #also yes Timekeeper is Phanta's boss #“I know you have a lot of saved up holidays but a month is quite a long time”#he goes right back to work on Monday smh #eldritch brother am I right #also I promise to work on the actual phantasmagoria soon I promise-#T-T

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ozzgin · 2 years ago

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How would the guys react to prehistoric reader fighting pickle (and she wins if that’s akay) Since he angered her. Because he ate her food( or she really loves food or she’s on her period)

(hope it makes sense )

I can never say no to a strong female character so it’s absolutely okay! If you‘d be so kind, I have two more asks regarding the prehistoric reader that I think are somewhat similar, so I’d just combine them under your request.

The first request: prehistoric pregnant reader “adopts” Baki (our affection deprived boy could use some love); her first spoken word is “Pickle”, and finally she gives birth to twins

The second request: prehistoric reader begins understanding modern human language, surprising the fighters, and begins translating for Pickle.

Baki Characters x Prehistoric! Fem Reader (II)

Featuring Pickle and his challengers. The sequel to our prehistoric reader that just gave birth and is slowly cozying up to modern life.

Reader wins against Pickle

You don’t even remember what set you off. Maybe the pregnancy hormones had gotten out of hand, or Pickle’s successive wins had earned him too much audacity. What’s certain is that you weren’t pleased with his attitude and decided to remind him you’re not one of the humans for him to show this insolence.

Hearing the savage, vicious growls that erupted from your chest as you slammed Pickle’s unconscious body into the ground one final time, no one really dared to interrupt you. Retsu, Katsumi and Jack had already received extensive injuries from a Pickle that held back still. They didn’t wish to ponder what you could do to them in your current state. Baki glanced at his father, wondering if he’d be tempted to challenge you during this unique opportunity.

Yuujirou, however, was trying his best to hold back his laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so entertained. If you were moping the floors with Pickle with a massive pregnant belly, how damn strong were you on a regular day? He nearly put his hands together in prayer, hoping you’d stick around once you were done popping kids. He wanted to fight you so badly and felt like a schoolgirl kicking her feet on the mattress the night before a class trip.

Baki finds it amusing that you’re seemingly stronger than Pickle. His only goal is defeating his father. Of course, anyone strong enough could provide him with extra training for the final battle, but at this point, with you as his opponent, he might actually be overreaching. He hopes you won’t decide to fight Yuujirou anytime soon, because he wants to be the one to defeat him first. Jack shares this sentiment but is also a bit deflated knowing how big the gap between him and the ancient humans is.

Reader’s first word

Pickle is curled up in his enclosure’s tree trunk, pouting mildly after the angry defeat he suffered. To add insult to the injury, he can hear Baki’s spoiled chuckles as you feed him some of your T-Rex meat. After his fight with Pickle, the young boy was most open to receive aftercare and attention and you found it utterly adorable that someone as strong as him enjoyed special treatment.

The other men found it rather humiliating to rely on you and would gently let you know that they can manage just fine. But Baki immediately clung onto you and in time you began to wonder about his family. You weren’t entirely sure how to express the question to him. Did he have a mother? Where was she? How would you gesture for “mother” in the first place? If only you could articulate the same noises the other humans used to communicate. It looked very efficient and also very complex.

You glance at Pickle’s hiding spot, lost in thought. You try to replay some of the dialogues you’ve witnessed. In your mind, you closely observe the men discussing things in front of your prehistoric mate. The way their jaw opens and closes at calculated intervals. Why is the tongue contracting so frequently? Is this the tool needed to turn your growls into intentional, obvious messages? You pucker your lips and allow some air to blow out, like a faint whistle. Then, you tighten your lips and release them with pressure, and a “pop” sound comes out. Baki observes your attempts, confused. You press your tongue against the roof of your mouth and exhale. Another flattened whistle is released.

Finally, you flex your vocal chords with just enough force that the growl smoothens out and is replaced by a continuous voice. You repeat the movements that you’ve practiced in your head. So many people have used this word when looking at him. It can only mean one thing, and you want to hear it roll out of your own mouth. “Pi-ku-ru~”

Pickle pokes his head out of the enclosure, perplexed. That was certainly your voice, but the contents delivered by it were nothing he would’ve expected. His eyebrows are raised and he looks at your equally shocked expression. Baki is dumbfounded. He feels like he just witnessed something forbidden, of unspeakable importance. The raw piece of meat hangs in his mouth, yet to be chewed. You turn to the small human, seeking approval. Was this the correct way to do it? Have you made your message clear?

Before a potential answer comes out, you rush to Pickle and grab his face between your hands. Such a bizarre sensation. Within this vast, intricate language that the humans used, this one sequence of contractions and movements was specially designated for him. This one prolonged sound, and his eyes will lock with yours because he knows it’s him you’re calling. You gently kiss Pickle and he clumsily returns the gesture, still unsure of what is happening.

Birth and aftermath

Professor Payne is pacing in front of the hospital room. He doesn’t know what to be more excited about. The fact that two more prehistoric humans will soon walk the modern Earth, or that their mother casually reproduced articulate language just a few days ago. He clenches his fist in his pocket, somewhat resentful of Baki for being the one to retell the story. What unbelievable potential. His nostrils can already pick up the fresh ink of the soon-to-be published newspapers: “Noam Chomsky’s works in linguistics threatened by latest breakthrough - Discovery of Dr. Payne shows that ancient, Jurassic humans posses the skill to acquire spoken language. Implications unknown.”

Meanwhile, the fighters are gathered in the cramped hospital room. As they have proven their friendship to Pickle, it’s only natural to share this intimate moment with him. Pickle is holding one baby in each arm, cooing at them excitedly. Katsumi is pretending to be focused on a sight outside the window in order to hide his glossy eyes; births are always emotional for him. Retsu is standing close to the entrance, arms folded. He, too, is distracted by the knowledge that you may understand them and reproduce their words. He absentmindedly goes back to his encounters with you, hoping he didn’t say anything out of place that you might’ve picked up.

Baki is sitting on the side of your bed, carefully kneading your hand in an attempt to relax you. “You really should try some of the hospital food, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a dish this fancy!” He smiles at you and then nods in the direction of the tray. You follow his gaze and process his words. “Want try?” You manage to croak. Everyone in the room pauses to look at you. They already knew it from Baki, but hearing it firsthand truly is an astonishing experience. There’s a silent enthusiasm shared by the men standing close and Pickle tenses up, a small frown forming on his face. They better not get any ideas.

“What do you think about your new siblings?” Jack questions Baki jokingly. “Given you’ve been adopted by (Y/N) and all.” You follow the conversation with analytical eyes and Jack wants to try his hand at explaining the words to you. Once the meanings start to connect, you laugh and begin gesturing to Pickle, aided by short growls. Everyone assumes you’re translating to him. Pickle glares at Baki and his hold on the babies tightens, perhaps too hesitant to agree to your bond with the little modern human.

Pickle sighs deeply. Not only was he thrown into this strange world, but now there’s a bunch of men that are starting to show too much interest in you. He’ll have to put them in their place very soon if this continues. He’s especially annoyed at your fast learning pace when it comes to conversing with these creatures. He needs to hurry up and catch up to you if he wants to know the intentions of his rival friends.

#baki #baki the grappler #baki x reader #pickle x reader #baki headcanons #pickle baki #baki hanma #jack hanma #katsumi orochi

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insomniac-dot-ink · 1 month ago

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The Jumping Glade

The pond in the middle of the glade had a pull to the village children. The Jumping Glade, they called it, and it moved the widow Harriet Babbitt to tears when she thought about it too hard. Before she moved away, before she went to make her fortunes, and returned with child and without heart, she used to jump it herself. Wobbling on one leg, counting down from three and eyeing your next leap. The lily pads that were more like pustules, bound to burst. You must leap from one to the other before they disappear underneath you.

Harriet knew the little boy that counted too slowly. Tiny and boastful and with a voice like watered-down gin, the little boy George. She’d been sick in bed that day, sick and dreaming and her grandmother had already picked up the enchanted staff and left. The children came back shouting and Harriet could barely rise to hear the story. Half the village went running to the pond with fish nets and strong swimmers but it was too late.

Her generation was banned from jumping the pond after that. But the glade had an allure to children in the way tall trees and deep caves given names and legends will. So fresh to the story of being alive, you forget how hungry you are to become part of it. This was, afterall, one of the last truly magical places.

And they were Glade Children. They turned their backs on the beautiful horses with manes of kelp. They covered their ears at the beautiful singing voices that came from the underwater caves. They tricked the twinkling lights of the wood and caught the wil-o-wisp for glass jars. Too smart. Too clever for the tricks of this place, and the Jumping Glade was too tempting a game. How many children had really drowned there? Not them.

Harriet wept. “My daughter is not the strongest swimmer,” she murmured to the nymph of these parts who liked to visit the widow whose estrangement drew her close. They sat close enough for their knees to brush, and the circle-thoughts bite at Harriet’s ankles. “And it always gets someone,” she said, all illogic.

Sunbreak the Nymph, lonely and long-lived, offered comforts. “Oh, but Brianne is a good enough swimmer,” she said. “Brianne is a Glade child, yet. And I’ll look after her.” Still, Harriet wept and fretted and avoided the last of her family, her grandmother, who liked to babble prophecies.

Grandmother Lorraine had accidently picked up an enchanted walking stick when Harriet was 9 and had been walking and babbling ever since. She wasn’t born here, tutted the residents, of course she’d make that mistake. One of the last truly magical places and her grandmother became just another legend to avoid.

The Littlest Babbitt will trip, Harriet had heard grandmother sing on one of her walks, trip and fall and wake.

Even if it’s true, said Sunbreak on one of her many visits, she’ll wake! Harriet was not comforted, but she was distracted.

Kissing nymphs through her kitchen windows. Baking and sewing and making her own way. Paying her dues. Waiting for Brianne to be too old for jumping the glade and watching the lily pads disappear behind her as she lept from one to the other.

The day came though, with a shake of the earth and a gasp. Her pots rattled against the stucco wall. A mug shattered to Harriet’s floor. The children shouted in one voice and Harriet flung her front door open, heart racing. Sunbreak was not watching over the little girl as she promised, because Sunbreak was upstairs.

Brianne came speeding down the village road and relief upon relief flooded Harriet, and somehow she’d remember that best. The cold wash of seeing her daughter, wild-eyed, soaked from head to toe, gasping for breath–all relief down Harriet’s shoulder blades. She was alive and running and well. “The eye!” Brianne shrieked, almost foaming at the mouth. “It opened its eyes.”

The ground gave a fantastic shake and the people of the glade looked to one another. They knew so many tricks for staying in their homes, and very few about why.

There were the lights and the horses and the enchanted wood and there was a beast made of lily pads like pustules and hair of trees and eyes that opened, if you fell on them. The giant stood and the people of the glade awoke.

FIN

My book! 🧡 Newsletter

#short story #flash fiction #fantasy story #flash fic #spilled ink

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bloodyinkandquill · 2 months ago

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phighting x reader christmas special

sup im in Honduras right now, so ill work on this intermittently, it’ll be… something i need to decide im thinking what each phighter’s christmas activities are and what they get you, yeah that’ll work, it’ll be in menu order btw

Sword:

He spends Christmas with his dad, and you’re invited! Venomshank has been alive a while but having a son to celebrate a holiday with is a new exciting experience to him, they have a lot of traditions surrounding it. Including having dinner together the night before, then Venomshank has to put out the presents at EXACTLY 11:59 because at EXACTLY midnight Sword come barreling towards the tree, it’s funny to witness, and definitely stems from when Sword was a kid. During the day itself after presents him and his dad cook an amazing breakfast together, they would probably ask what you want because they both cook each other their favorites and want to include you since you’re part of the family now.

I think Sword would definitely go with something super personalized, something that reminded him of you in some way. Or alternatively he’d also get you something rather cheesy and overly couple-y like matching sweaters that say something super over the top. He’s very sweet and loving about it and views Christmas as a family thing and you’re part of his family now!

Skateboard:

I imagine in Playground Christmas is more of a friends thing then family thing, so Skateboard hosts a big party with his friends and you! There is a lot of food and more drinks, it’s not like a crazy high energy party buts it’s also not a dinner party, he does his best to stay by your side since you’re his lover but he keeps getting distracted and running off to a friend calling him over or doing something crazy. But he reminds you how much he loves you and that he’s glad to be spending Christmas with you!

For gifts I think he’d get you something silly and fun, that makes you laugh and groan lightheartedly. I also think he’d get you your own skateboard or even maybe roller skates/blades so you can go skating around with him, he’s bashful about it saying it was just something random and you don’t have to or whatever- then one of his friends would put a mistletoe above you both with an eye roll and he’d blush but it’s a sweet and tender kiss.

Biograft:

Bro has the dictionary definition of Christmas and that’s it, so you have to teach him a lot about it. It starts to understand, not fully but he’s getting there. Its favorite part is all the lights, he thinks they’re really pretty. Since it doesn’t exactly have its own Christmas traditions he just participates in whatever you do. It might be tad awkward if it’s his first time meeting people who don’t understand it’s sentient so you might have to explain it a couple times. He mostly sits in the corner observing, or following you around like a fucking since it doesn’t understand just yet but you do so it’s the logical conclusion.

He gets you a gift late, it doesn’t realize he was supposed to get you something but then when it does he figures the logical conclusion would be to get it after Christmas because it would be cheaper anyways. I think he’d get you some sort of technology, maybe a new computer or handheld gaming console that it specifically modified to be linked to him so it can chat with you on it even if he isn’t nearby, and would make sure it’s your favorite colors.

Katana:

He’s sort of, withdrawn from Christmas, if it was his choice he’d stay home and treat it as any other day but with cafe trio and you, his plans have been foiled. Cafe trio invite you both to their apartment to spend Christmas with them. If you’re tempted to say no just remember Slingshot owns a bakery and baked so many different Christmas pastries for the event. You and Katana stay together the whole time but it’s still nice, the food is delicious and it smells AMAZING in that apartment. Katana doesn’t have great memories of Christmas due to his past but he’s willing to make new ones with you.

I think he’d get you a really nice (rather expensive) china set. And his favorite rare teas to go with it. When I say really nice set, I mean REALLY nice, probably one of a kind. He insists you do not need to get him anything but won’t fight if you want to get him something, he thanks you really sweetly and after you leave cafe trios place gives you a super sweet kiss where he can comfortably lift up his mask.

Ban Hammer:

Similar to Sword he spends Christmas with his momma, and again you are invited to join them! Their Christmas is a lot more chaotic, full of rough housing and the servants very nervously cooking a LOT of food. They eat a lot on Christmas and play fight even more, but there’s a lot of laughter and love in the house so all is well. Even if Windforce isn’t as affectionate towards you she snickers and pushes you against her son, maybe a little too hard but he catches you and his eyes are shining as he looks at you. (Pet peeve of mine he ONLY wears his blindfold during phights to challenge himself, STOP GIVING IT HIM WHEN HE ISNT SUPPOSED TO BE WEARING IT.)

As a gift he gets you front row tickets to your favorite band, and takes you out to a REALLY nice dinner, I’m talking probably a three month wait list. He also jokes that his gift is ‘his presence’ you jokingly smack some sense into him as he chuckles. Whatever you get him if it’s something he can he displays on his desk in his office, if not he gets a really good photo of you two and put that on his desk instead. It’s really sweet and probably lit up with candles behind you under the stars.

Rocket:

Again he goes to his dad’s house for Christmas, however he doesn’t spend Christmas eve night there, you and him just head over there in the morning. Zuka isn’t a great cook, Rocket’s even worse, so you settle for some basic pancakes with maybe chocolate chips if you’re feeling fancy. Then they do gifts after breakfast, they never make a big deal about it, Zuka grew up a soldier so not much time for festivities and Rocket was a street kid, so also not much time for festivities. So they don’t do too much, just enough that it feels like a special nice day but it’s not over the top. They think of it as just a nice day to relax and spend together and with you now, Zuka approves of you since you make Rocket happy so he gets you a little something, probably just some bux honestly.

Rocket gets you a big ass plushie, I imagine he has a lot of his own so he gets you one he thinks you’ll like, of some animal you like but huge, perfectly shaped for cuddling. He’d also get you a custom candle, colored and scented to your favorites with some stupid name that’s some sort of inside joke between you two. He also gives you a handmade coupon for a kiss, it’s so cheesy and honestly embarrassing that it’s cute, he’s a dork but he’s your dork.

Slingshot:

As mentioned him and the siblings host a small get together at their apartment, you and Katana are invited, he doesn’t go so it’s just you four. He asks you to come over the day before to help, or at least offer emotional support, as he bakes a lot of stuff for the next day. Gingerbread and other holiday treats galore. He asks what your favorite cookies are, if he doesn’t already know, and bakes a batch of those as well. If you don’t have any baking skills you just sit on a part of unused counter and maybe occasionally stir something for him. If you can bake you divvy up the work 50/50 and get to it, it’s a mess of pass the flour and where’s the butter but it’s fun and sweet. You and him make sure Vinestaff and Shuriken don’t enter the kitchen to mess the pastries up or to steal batter or cooling cookies. The next day you two are beat and just enjoy sitting together on the couch eating your hard work and watching Shuriken and Vinestaff bicker as usual.

For a gift Slingshot makes you ready to bake dough in a tupperware of your favorite cookies so you can make them at home super easily whenever you want them. He also gets you some cat themed trinkets, he really likes cats, freaking cat boy. (/silly) Shuriken and Vinestaff also get you something but it’s smaller and just a peace offering since you’re dating their boss, even if they have more of a sibling relationship with him anyways.

Hyperlaser:

He doesn’t really do Christmas, it’s not that celebrated in Blackrock and his job keeps him really busy, but he still tries and makes a time for you, if not on, around Christmas to have a night together. You just enjoy a simple home cooked meal at him place, making it together as Princess walks around your feet meowing for a piece of food. Get that you sit down together on his couch, snuggle up with a blanket and watch some movie, probably some action movie most Christmas movies are far too cheesy for Hyperlaser’s tastes. After you eat you exchange presents and split a small little cheesecake he bought. It’s nothing big but it’s so distinctly him that it makes you happy anyways.

As for the aforementioned present he doesn’t do anything much, just something small but meaningful, some sort of personalized trinket of sorts. Like if you go drinking with him and Katana he gets you a small bottle of your favorite drink and maybe a small but nice cup. Again nothing big since he is rather indifferent when it comes to Christmas.

Shuriken:

Once again, the cafe trio Christmas party. This time you’re helping him cause chaos, trying to steal pastries when Slingshot isn’t looking or doing little gag pranks to Vinestaff. Can’t forget pranking each other! You arrive a little after noon once the siblings have finished with their cheesy family time, all the baked goods have been prepared already so Vinestaff is in the kitchen working on the actual dinner so it’s just you and Shuriken at first doing random stuff since Slingshot is tired and Vinestaff is busy. Though between the chaos you have some sweet moments, Shuriken can be gentle and loving when he tries to, and he tries on Christmas.

I think gift wise he’d give you an unlimited free pass to Thieves rest, Slingshot objects but it’s more for show, he knows you won’t abuse it and you make his sudo-brother happy so oh well. He also gets you a shirt that says like a cringiest cheesiest thing, like something a middle aged mom would wear or one of those fake funny ones like ‘Christian dads against cool math games’ or whatever. You laugh and bomp him on the head since it’s so stupid but sweet still.

Scythe:

The church makes something special about Christmas, it’s a big ass event that seeing as Scythe is a very high ranking person in the church she busted her ass of planning and bossing people around for it. So once Christmas finally comes around she glad to finally have more time with you since she spent so long away from you working late hours preparing for it. After she says her greetings to whoever she needs to she immediately pulls you away to the side to make out with you, specially a special spot she planned out and put a mistletoe at as an excuse, and maybe to push some underlings under it for some entertainment. She also drinks quite a bit but she’s a heavyweight so at most she gets a bit tipsy, she’s just glad to have some time to take the edge off and wind down more.

Gifting she gets you some bigger more expensive gifts, most were probably stolen or taken from her assignments. She gets you a really fancy bottle of wine, expensive jewelry, all that kind of stuff, as well as a promise to spend at least a week straight with you after New years since right after this party she has to plan the new year’s party too, oh well at least you know soon enough she’ll spend time with you and probably spoil you as an apology for how long she was busy and away from you.

Medkit:

As mentioned the church treats Christmas as a big event, which he’s not as busy as Scythe but he still has to contribute to the planning and whatever, especially if anyone gets hurt. He views it more as a chore if anything, it was never that big of a thing in Blackrock and now he has to pretend to want to be at some dumb big party. Assuming you are not also in the church he returns home rather late at night and flops down on your bed with a groan. You exchange presents in the morning and go out for a simple easy brunch together. He’s not big on celebrating it but if you want to do something he won’t complain.

He doesn’t get you anything big, probably something pertaining to a hobby you might have, it’s just a smaller thing but it’s still sweet, he thinks gifts are pointless since they can be given anytime why put so much emphasis of these ones? But he will thank you for whatever you get him.

Boombox:

As mentioned I imagine in Playground Christmas is more a friends get together holiday, so you attend Skateboard’s party he hosts. You two stick together but as the night goes on Boombox gets rowdier and louder, but you’re used to the louder and calmer sides of him. Before the party he doesn’t do anything special you just meet up in the evening and go to Skateboard’s place together, unless you want to do something but he’d prefer to do it the day after since he prefers to only do stuff half the day, or so. But he won’t fight if you want to do something together that morning.

He makes you a specialized mixtape of all your favorite songs and songs that remind him of you, and to go with it a small portable music player to listen to it, sure could it have been easier to do like a spotify playlist on your phone? Yeah, but where’s the fun in that! He also gets you your favorite candies and chocolates to go with it.

Subspace:

As I’ve said like 20 times Christmas isn’t that big of a thing in Blackrock, it’s not contributing anything so why waste time celebrating? So being the head engineer for the Blackrock government means he doesn’t really do much about Christmas. However he does invite you to his lab, something he rarely does, and shows you something he made you, after that you leave and wait for him to return home, you have some hot cocoa and go to bed.

The something he made you was a personalized small Biograft, about the size of a Chigraft, specially engineered and designed to assist you with everyday life and have a programmed personality he thought you’d like, it’s also painted to be your favorite color instead of orange, unless orange is your favorite color. He lets you name it and tells you all the intricate details of how he customized it, even if you don’t understand any of the words he’s saying.

Vinestaff:

Once again, you go to the Christmas get together at her, Shuriken and Slingshot are hosting, it’s just you four since Katana declined. When you first arrive you help her ‘give gifts’ to all her plants, which entails giving them specialized fertilizer and watching as she fawns over all of them. Then you help her in cooking dinner, it’s nothing too fancy just some traditional Thieves Den dishes and maybe one or two bonus holiday additions. She’s not amazing at cooking but she’s at least better than her brother, who’s trying to prank you two as you cook unfortunately. After dinner though you all relax and exchange gifts it’s a sweet moment the air filled with laughter as she snuggles up against you.

She gets you a starter kit to grow your favorite flowers, a special bag of soil, a cute pot, and the seeds obviously. You may have to wait until it’s the proper growing weather for the flowers but it’s still a super sweet and thoughtful gift. She also gets you a spa set, amazing creams and lotions, all in your favorite scent, not to mention a nice neck pillow specifically for a bath.

Coil:

Again, Christmas in Playground is a friend’s holiday, so you go to Skateboard’s apartment for the party he hosts that both you and Coil were invited to. You arrive some of the first and watch as Coil jokes around with Skateboard as he sets out the last of the snacks and drinks, poking fun at him in a friendly way. The party doesn’t have a ton of people but still it’s not a small thing either, so you have people to chat with whenever Coil runs off to joke around or grab snacks. You probably crash at Skateboard’s place for the night since they’re best friends and have that permission, you wake up the next morning with a headache and glitter on your face you don’t know where it came from. But it was still a fun night with your lover.

I think he’d get you, oh man Coil is tough, stuff he stole from Blackrock nobles, like maybe jewelry, items from traveling, or even a fancy ass bottle of alcohol. Or maybe a gag gift, something funny and jokey that leads you to start play fighting, I’m honestly not so sure about him my apologies.

alright and that’s a wrap! that was fun to write, i’m currently at dinner i’m not at home i’m on a cruise waiting on my steak, today we hit honduras tomorrow we hit belize! it’s been fun and i got some art i needed to get done for my best friend done, we did an art exchange for christmas on top of the pins of empires season one characters, we’re matching roseblings! i’ll hopefully have the venomshank request done and posted soon, im hoping tomorrow at the latest, have a merry christmas everyone and would you guys like me to do the same thing but for any other characters? if so send a comment with the character but if you want to be anon send it on my personal account @inkcoveredmoon !!

unfortunately i do not know much about chanukah so i will not be doing a special for it, im not christian but we celebrate the christian holidays in my household

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cayleeuhithinknott · 2 months ago

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matt knows how much you hate to see christmas end.

the christmas tree stands in the corner of the living room, twinkling softly with its white lights and a few stray strands of tinsel that somehow ended up there after all the decorating chaos. you’re sitting on the couch, staring at it like you’re saying goodbye to an old friend. matt’s on the floor by the tree, already halfway through unboxing ornaments, carefully placing them back in their little slots.

“you know we don’t have to do this right now,” he says, glancing back at you. his voice is gentle, but there’s a teasing edge to it. “we could just leave it up forever. make it a, uh…year-round christmas tree.”

you smile faintly, hugging your knees to your chest. “don’t tempt me.”

matt smirks, turning back to the tree and plucking off a glittery snowflake ornament. “seriously, though. if it’s making you sad, we can wait a few more days.”

you shake your head. “no, it’s fine. it’s just…” you trail off, shrugging. “i don’t know. it’s stupid. christmas is over, and now everything feels kind of… boring again.”

he pauses, looking at you over his shoulder. “boring? come on, we have so much exciting stuff coming up. like, uh…” he pretends to think, tapping his chin dramatically. “laundry day. cleaning the fridge. oh, and let’s not forget the thrilling saga of returning that sweater your aunt got you.”

you laugh despite yourself, rolling your eyes. “wow, can’t wait.”

he grins, clearly pleased with himself, and turns back to the tree. “see? i’m full of great ideas.”

but as he continues taking down ornaments, you can’t help but feel a pang of sadness. the cozy glow of the tree, the scent of pine, the warmth of the holidays—it’s all disappearing too quickly. you stand up and walk over to where matt’s sitting, grabbing an ornament and turning it over in your hands. it’s one of your favorites, a little ceramic reindeer with a chipped ear.

“remember when you dropped this last year?” you ask, holding it up.

he glances at it and groans. “don’t remind me. you acted like i’d broken a family heirloom.”

“well, it’s cute,” you say, placing it gently in the box. “it deserves to be treated with care.”

“noted,” he says, shooting you a playful look. “no more reckless ornament handling.”

you smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. matt notices, of course he does, and sets down the strand of lights he’s untangling.

“hey,” he says softly, nudging your knee with his. “what’s really going on?”

you shrug, sitting down next to him. “i don’t know. i just… i love christmas. it’s my favorite time of year. and now it’s over, and everything feels kind of empty.”

he watches you for a moment, then leans over and bumps your shoulder with his. “you know, it doesn’t have to feel empty. we can keep some of the christmas magic alive.”

you raise an eyebrow at him. “oh yeah? how?”

he grins, his eyes lighting up with that mischievous sparkle you’ve come to know so well. “well, for starters, we could leave the tree half-decorated just to annoy everyone who visits.”

“matt.”

“or,” he continues, ignoring your tone, “we could eat christmas cookies every day until, like, march. just drown our post-holiday sadness in sugar.”

“matt!”

“or,” he says, turning to face you fully now, “we could just look forward to next christmas. because you know it’s going to be even better than this year. we’ll get an even bigger tree, put up even more lights, and—get this—we’ll start watching christmas movies in october. we’ll go full christmas overload.”

you laugh, finally feeling the weight in your chest start to lift. “october, huh? that’s a little extreme, even for me.”

“oh, come on,” he says, grinning. “you know you’d love it.”

you shake your head, but the smile on your face doesn’t fade. “maybe. we’ll see.”

he leans back against the couch, looking up at the tree. “besides, christmas isn’t just a day, you know? it’s a vibe. and i’m pretty sure we can keep that vibe going as long as we want.”

you glance at him, your heart softening at the way he’s trying so hard to cheer you up. “you’re such a dork,” you say, nudging him lightly.

“but i’m your dork,” he shoots back, winking.

you roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the warmth spreading through your chest. somehow, matt always knows exactly what to say to make you feel better.

together, the two of you finish packing up the ornaments, working in comfortable silence with the occasional joke or playful jab breaking the quiet. when the tree is finally bare, matt stands up and stretches, offering you a hand to help you up.

“ready to drag this thing out to the curb?” he asks, nodding toward the tree.

you sigh, but there’s a smile on your face now. “yeah, i guess so.”

as you both wrestle the tree out the door, leaving a trail of pine needles in your wake, you can’t help but feel a little lighter. christmas may be over, but with matt by your side, you know there’s plenty to look forward to—this year, next year, and every year after that.

a/n: 2 posts in one day wow! i stole @strnilolover little sparkly divider sorry!!! anyway im sad christmas is over so im projecting it onto this😍

tags: @sturniolo04 @admeliora94 @claireezz10 @snuffbut @frattboychris @marrykisskilled @mqttittude @purpledragon222

#cayleeuhithinknott #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #blurb #fluff #matt sturniolo fluff #christmas #i miss christmas already wtf #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo

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psychoticallytrans · 10 months ago

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I think one of the most harmful concepts that is widely accepted is the idea of there being a universally applicable ideal for anything.

There is no ideal parent. Different children benefit from different mixes of expectations, attention, and guidance. A parent that one child finds supportive could be far too involved for a more independent child. A parent that one child finds to be expecting the best of them could be expecting more than a different child can give.

There is no ideal teacher. Different students learn best in different ways. One student may adore a teacher who primarily presents information visually, and another may struggle to stay engaged. One student may thrive in a class heavy on discussion, and another may retreat from the discussion and struggle to stay afloat.

There is no ideal partner. Different people want different levels of involvement with their partner. One person's attentive may be another person's uncomfortably clingy. One person's curious and engaged might be another person's nosy. There is no ideal brain, there is no ideal body, there is no ideal diet, there is no ideal environment, there is no ideal biome, there is no ideal amount of trees, there is no ideal family structure, there is no ideal set of policies, there is no ideal method of international trade, there is no meaningful singular ideal for anything at a broad scale.

Attempting to define, let alone chase, a singular ideal is fruitless at best. At worst, it results in carefully sanding off those all-important differences to try to make things fit. This inevitably results in hurting people, because "This should work for everyone." never works for everyone.

It's such a tempting idea to chase, because it feels like if you could find that singular point of perfection, you could fix so much. That you'd be able to keep so many people from being hurt and struggling. That there has to be a correct solution that you can apply universally, and then everything will be fine.

Instead, there is only what works, and what doesn't, and that changes dramatically with the situation. Everything is in context, and everything is in flux. You always have to look at the exact problem that you are trying to solve, and fit the solution to the situation. Because the situation is not going to fit itself to your solution.

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staytinyville · 1 month ago

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WHAT'S THIS?

↣ Summary: You were always different from those of Christmas Town. Something was missing inside of you that you needed to find. Have you possibly gone daffy?

↣ Characters/Pairing: Ragdoll!Hongjoong x Elf!Reader

↣ Genre: Smut, fluff

↣ AU/Trope info: Nightmare Before Christmas!AU, Monster!Au, Jacob’s ladder deal with penis,

↣ Word Count:

↣ Warnings: Soft sex, Christmas/Halloween Fluff, love at first sight

↣ A/N: To the ever great @catkyunie for Secret Santa. I had another thing planned but ultimately decided on this because I watched the movie four times in a weekend. I love the soundtrack so much man. Also I’ve had the idea to make a Nightmare Before Christmas AU for a while now but it wasn’t this story exactly. I love the movie so much so I hope it comes out as well I hope it did.

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @cromernet , @pirateeznet , @k-labels , @k-vanity

↣ Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

Never go near the Holiday Trees.

For as long as one could remember, the elves were told that. It was centuries ago when the rule was brought up after a very troublesome Halloween town citizen decided they wanted to take over Christmas.

Things have changed–the children have changed. There was no better holiday compared to the rest. Each person had their favorite, and so the ones in charge didn’t bother with the other holidays for fear of being less than happy.

But that didn’t mean those who were in charge of the holidays still couldn’t feel as though there was something missing within themselves.

You could hear the soft crunch of your reindeer companion following behind you, bleating small sounds as it found berries and grass to eat. It happily continued to munch while you frowned deeply at the prospect of walking through a foot of snow.

It bothered you. You could see how all the other elves were easily able to navigate themselves through the snow on light feet–not sinking down to end up buried in it. It was your fault, you figured. Not having the simple little magic everyone else had.

You couldn’t make toys. Couldn’t bring joy to the children who you had to watch over every once in a while. You couldn’t even make cookies that somehow every elf knew how to make from scratch. You were the odd ball in the town full of ridiculously happy citizens that mocked you every chance they could.

Well, maybe they didn’t mock you because that would be very naughty of them. But you did feel bad everytime they tried to teach you something and you just couldn’t get it. There was something missing. And year after year, it hurt to see Christmas come and go without your help.

Your ears twitch as you trudge through the thick snow trying to find more pine cones to fill your family tree with. You were wrapped in double scarves, your ears and nose covered. The snow was thinning out the further in you went and by then your legs were so tired you were half tempted to fall over into the snow to rest for a moment.

You sniffled, nose starting to run but you used your sleeve to brush it away. By the time you realized it, the snow had cleared completely all of a sudden which caused you to trip over your own feet and fall flat onto the forest floor.

“Oof.” You groaned, shuffling out of the snowy area and onto the dirt.

Pine needles stuck to your face as you shuffled yourself to stand up, coming to sit on your knees and look around the clearing.

You felt a shiver go through your body as you stared up at the tree that had a large pumpkin door on its trunk. You glanced around for a moment more, seeing the rest of the holiday doors waiting for someone to open them. You finally got up onto your legs, the jingle bells on your feet and hat making a sound each time you moved.

You knew exactly where you were and found it odd that you were even here. The location of these trees are only known to the Claus’s, so to be able to reach this place was something you couldn’t fathom.

Each door was different from the last. Some brighter than others while some just seemed so plain. The pumpkin with the large grin stared back at you as you reached it last. It’s smile was dark, almost a pitch black that had you losing yourself within it. Each jagged edge looked like it would prick you if you dared to touch it.

And yet you still found yourself reaching for the door knob nose, muscles straining just a bit as the knob seemed stuck for a moment. But it finally moved after a moment, startling you with how easy it was to pull the door open.

It was even darker inside, a gust of wind blowing through causing red and orange leaves to fall out. Your nose crinkled at the smell of black licorice. But you still stuck your head further in, trying to make out something inside the abyss of the tree.

Suddenly you could hear a humming. A sound that went together to form some kind of lullaby that almost put you to sleep. You strained your ears to hear more of it, trying to make out the words.

“Sometimes you gotta move forward. Just take it step by step. And then you’ll notice you’ve found your place…”

Just a bit more, you told yourself, moving closer.

Just a bit more ended up being too much though. Before you realized it, your little jingle bells tinkled one last time before everything turned black.

It was a whirlwind of bright lights and empty space that you felt like you were floating in. Gravity did not exist as you fell. You wanted to grab onto something but the only thing it seemed like you could do was scream into the void.

It was a quick journey. Not even half a minute as you felt a force suddenly drag you towards a direction. Your back hit against a surface before it vanished and you fell through. You let out a loud gasp, bright colors filling your vision as you were thrown into a much warmer place.

Before you tumbled onto the floor, you quickly caught sight of the sharp edges of a christmas tree shape on the trunk of a tree. You rolled over, grunting as you landed on your back, your legs falling down quickly and your body becoming exhausted.

You took in a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. It was a bit but you slowly allowed yourself to feel the ground around you trying to make sure you were in fact on some kind of surface.

Turning your head from side to side, you noticed you were back in the clearing of holiday trees. Only this time there was no Halloween one. Raising slowly to sit up, you took notice of how there was no snow covering the ground or pine trees that were losing needles.

Instead the trees were barren almost, the leaves left on the branches ranging from a yellow to brown color. Most of them seemed to be on the floor, waiting to be picked up.

There was a sudden squirming feeling under your legs, like an animal was trying to get out from under you. You frowned, scooting back and pulling your knees up to grab at whatever it was. It wasn’t furry, nor was it that large. It wiggled around, your eyebrows pinching together as you felt multiple limbs.

“What’s this?” You asked yourself, pulling the object out from under you.

When you finally grasped it fully, your eyes went wide as it suddenly grabbed ahold of your hand. Pulling it out, the thing hanging from your hand was another hand. However it was severed at the wrist.

“Oh my Kringle!” You screamed, throwing the hand away from you.

You gasped louder as it began to wiggle and suddenly upright itself. It scurried away behind a tree, catching your attention as something seemed to bend down to grab it. Whatever it was shuffled back from view, their foot being the last to be hidden.

Tilting your head in confusion you realized it was a person who was standing on the other side. The voice you heard earlier was suddenly starting to make sense, so you gradually became more curious.

“I know you’re there.” You called out, crawling closer to the tree.

You sighed when they didn’t move nor say anything. You thought to yourself for a moment, thinking back to how the person singing felt so sad.

“The song you were singing–are you okay?”

“Of course I am.” They quickly spoke up.

Your eyebrows shot up, smiling to yourself that you got them to speak. “It didn’t sound like you were.” You continued. “Are you going to come out?”

“You are not from Halloween Town.” He told you.

“I’m from Christmas Town.” You shook your head, the bells jingling from the top of your hat. “A bit much isn’t it?” You giggled, wiggling your feet with the same bells.

He scoffed playfully. “Just a bit.”

“You have an amazing voice. I wish to hear more of it, please.” You crawled closer to the tree. “Will you please come out?”

You could hear them shuffling around in contemplation. It took a moment but slowly they walked out one foot after the other. It was something out of a fairytale seeing him for the first time.

You began to hum for some reason, hearing the ring of a jingle bell go off in your ear. He was deliberate in the way he walked. He was careful, but still it looked graceful. The first thing that caught your attention though, were the stitches that stretched across his mouth.

“You’re stitches–do they hurt?” You asked quietly, coming to a stand.

You walked closer to him, hands twitching at your side as you wanted to reach up and touch him.

“No.” He spoke up, watching you intently.

You raised your hands, moving them closer to his face. But you caught yourself, stopping as you realized it would be rude to just touch him.

“May I?’ You asked quietly, waiting for his reply.

He looked down at your raised hands, your curious eyes on his scars. “Sure.”

You lightly skimmed your fingers across his mouth. The tips of your longer fingers touched at his lips while they moved across the bumpy patches. You were scared of hurting him, so you didn’t try pressing them harder into his skin when your curiosity peaked at how the skin parted and created a hole. You wondered if they would open up, your hand passing through his cheek.

When you looked up at his eyes, you found him staring at something near the side of your head. Your large pointed ears twitched at his stare, causing him to flinch just the tiniest bits. His hands shook at his side, almost coming up.

“You can go ahead.” You told him, moving your head to the side to allow him the space to touch your ears.

He tentatively reached up, fingers grazing the shell of your ear just as yours touched his stitches. He started at the bottom before smoothly gliding upwards. It wasn’t until they began to touch the tips of your ears that you suddenly felt a shiver go down your spine.

You let out a tiny gasp, eyes fluttering shut as your lips pressed together. He suddenly pulled back from you, your own hand falling from his face.

“Sorry.” He quickly said, waiting for your reply.

“It’s okay.” You beamed up at him. “They’re just sensitive.”

“Hongjoong!”

Both of you suddenly turned around, hearing the call.

The man’s eyes went wide, suddenly grabbing you and pushing you back towards the Christmas Tree.

“You have to go.”

“What? Why?” You questioned, looking around trying to find whoever had called.

“You are not supposed to be here. We are not supposed to go to other holidays.”

He continued, opening the door and about to shove you through until you stopped yourself.

“But–your singing.” You quietly said. “I really loved it.”

He paused, lips pressing together. His eyes twinkled almost, as if he could he would be blushing from your compliment.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” He told you softly.

“Joong!”

You suddenly turned around, ready to be pushed back into the tree but you had something to ask him first.

“You have to go now.”

“Will I see you again?” You asked, hoping he would say yes.

He seemed stunned for a moment, looking back to where the sound of rustling leaves were heard.

“Come tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”

Your lips pulled up into a smile, feeling something warm fill your chest. Just as someone was about to enter the clearing, you felt the suction of the tree pulling you back in.

“Goodbye.” You heard one last moment before falling.

“Oh he was amazing, Mrs Claus!” You sighed, picking up the tinsel the old lady wanted to move. “He was so devastatingly pretty. Nothing could compare to him. And-And his singing! So hauntingly beautiful. It was alluring in such a way that left me breathless.”

“It sounds like you're in love, dear.” The jolly ole’ woman hummed, shaking around as she sprinkled something on some cookies.

“You really think so?” You smiled bashfully, looking down at the gingerbread man you were decorating.

You looked down at the cookie, eyebrows pulling up at the smirk the cookie seemed to be sporting. It have little triangles at it’s lips, the red icing popping out. Black icing covered it’s forehead in a line, stitches being show as though it had been put together.

Looking up you noticed Mrs. Claus turning around with another batch, quickly shoving the sweet into your mouth to prevent her from seeing it. While you were too worried someone would catch on to your secret, you hadn’t even noticed that the cookie was created to perfection.

You could hear the other elves giggling at your antics.

“Tell me, do you feel a warmth that comes from inside?” The old lady continued grinning.

You swallowed before contemplating her question. Before long you realized she had been right, a soft smile falling on your lips as you thought about Hongjoong.

“I've never felt so good before. This empty place inside of me is filling up.” You spoke quietly.

“That's a good thing dear. No more worries.”

You decorated another batch of cookies, too preoccupied to even notice that you were creating some kinds of monsters along the men. But you were in the clouds, thinking about the man who you had come across. The elves only looked at you oddly, but didn’t make a comment because they could see that you were not about to answer.

You continued on your way, out of the kitchen area. Just as you opened the door though, you flinched at the four men who were standing on the other side with wide grins on their faces. Well a wide grin on one of their faces.

“Why are you just standing there?” You asked them.

“We know where you went.” Wooyoung the first to always say something told you.

You pushed them aside, continuing on your journey back to your house. “Where did I go?”

“You went through the tree.” Jongho spoke up.

You tensed up but tried not to show it.

“The Halloween tree.” Yeosang prattled.

“Is he a monster?” Yunho asked.

“Who?” You played dumb.

“The man you're in love with.” Wooyoung giggled.

“I'm not in love.” You shook your head, opening the door to the kitchen shop and walking out into the cold air.

“We beg to differ. What is he?” Yunho asked.

“He's nothing.” You spoke up without thought.

“So there is someone.”

“No.” You stopped turning to look at them. “Drop it. There is no one.”

“You told Mrs Claus there was, though.” Yeosang said.

“Were you eavesdropping?” You glared at all of them.

“We always do.” Jongho shrugged. “How do you think we knew Holly was secretly seeing Tinsel?”

You glared at the boys, feeling ticked with their wide grins.

“I'm going home.” You declared, turning around. “Do not follow me!”

“Well when they say it like that I want to follow them.”

Yeosang kept his eyes on your retreating figure. More so the way you were walking through the snow without any trouble at all. They were all so used to you sinking in the snow and complaining about the cold that he was quick to notice you did none of those the moment they were outside.

“Did you notice they didn’t sink into the snow?” Yeosang spoke up softly, watching as your feet seemed lightweight in the snow.

“You think they’re finally getting into the Christmas spirit?” Yunho asked his friend.

They thought about how you were talking about someone who seemed to have caught your attention. There was only one way to describe the way you had told Mrs. Claus about the person. The adjectives you had used were not ones they were used to and it was clear from where this person had come from.

But whoever it was that had caught your attention, they started something that you were in desperate need of.

“It’s some kind of spirit.”

It was a few days later when the four elves were finally able to follow you into the woods. They were pushing and shoving each other as each time they would lift a foot, their bells would jingle. But you were still none the wiser as you had something occupying your mind.

They stilled for a moment behind a tree, almost falling onto the ground that seemed to be devoid of snow. Peaking over the other, they tried their best to see where you were going. And when you pulled open a door in one of the trees they were quick to understand.

“They aren’t actually going there are they?” Yunho asked with wide eyes.

You climbed the small steps, peering into the hallow tree.

“I think they are.” Wooyoung gasped.

Hearing their loud mouths, you turned around finding their bodies heading your way in a rushed manner. Your eyes went wide and you held your hands in front of you to keep them from pushing.

“(Y/N)!” Yeosang yelled, shoving into you.

The world went black and you found yourself falling into the empty space you had grown used to these past few days. You could hear the boys screams and yells trying to find something to grab onto.

With the impact on your back, you grunted when all of a sudden gravity made the four boys fall on you full force. You skid along the floor for a moment, groaning like you had the first time you came through the door.

Once you got your baring together, you began to slap a hand on one of the boys.

“What are you idiots doing!?” You pushed them off.

“Don’t hurt us!” Jongho raised his arms.

“It seems we weren’t the only ones who had the idea to follow.”

You looked up, coming across four faces all looking down at you.

“Hongjoong.” You quickly said.

“Get off me!” You tried to shove Wooyoung off, the man shivering as he looked up at the other Halloween citizens.

“They are monsters!” He sobbed, hiding in your stomach.

“Who?” The one with horns asked with wide puppy looking eyes.

“I know you are not talking about us, Darling.” Another grinned, his kanine teeth sharp as he looked at Wooyoung.

Wooyoung whimpered again, hugging you closer once more.

“Leave him alone, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong rolled his eyes, moving to help you up.

“Is this your sweet?” You heard the giggle of one.

He began playing the bell on your hat, smiling to himself as his large fluffy ears flickered from every sound they made.

“Such a jolly little thing.” The other with sharp teeth spoke quietly, looking at you with a charming grin.

“Seonghwa.” Hongjoong warned, pulling you closer to him.

“You know I love knew friends, Joongie.” Seonghwa chuckled. “Especially the adorable ones.”

He spoke directly to Yeosang and Yunho who stood off huddled behind Jongho. The two blushed at the man’s words, flustered from his compliment.

“Welcome all of you to Halloween.” The one with dog ears spoke up. “We hope you enjoy your time here.”

He had moved to pick up Wooyoung, but the moment the man took a look at the werewolf’s face he began to blush a bright red. Wooyoung squeaked, looking up from the floor before scrambling into Jongho’s hold.

You began to giggle, feeling Hongjoong’s hand squeeze yours tightly. There was something about the way Hongjoong’s friends were so friendly that made you more then excited to meet them all.

“My name is San.” The one with wolf ears spoke up, a smile on his face as he waited eagerly for your friends to say something.

“I am Seonghwa.” The vampire bowed at his waist, hand along his torso.

“Mingi.” The boy with horns and wide eyes said, looking hopeful at each of your friends.

The elves all watched them curious eyes but they didn’t say anything else.

“Don’t be rude, boys.” You immediatly said, catching their attention.

They bowed at their waists, introducing themselves to Hongjoong’s friends. You smiled greatfully at the way they all started talking as though they had known each other forever.

Seonghwa made another suggestive comment that had left Wooyoung flustered and hiding behind Jongho.

“Are they all like that?” You giggled.

“Only Seonghwa.” Hongjoong snorted. “Are your friends always like that?”

“Only Wooyoung.”

There was a breeze that swept through the trees bringing down leaves that seemed to be never ending. You reached out for one that had fallen in front of you, twirling it around from the stem.

“Hongjoong.” You quietly spoke out loud, turning to the man who was laying on his back with his eyes closed.

He hummed, lips barely being pulled into a smile as he was enjoying his time. You leaned closer, laying on your stomach. You played with the leaf, dragging it along his nose. He scrunched up, trying to hold in his sneeze.

“What is it, Jingle?” He asked you after swatting you away.

You tilted your head to the side, glancing down his body.

“Are you able to–you know–” You wiggled your hand down towards his thighs, gesturing to what’s between his legs.

Hongjoong’s eyes quickly shot open, a frown on his face as he realized what you were gesturing to. He looked at you with an odd face, eyebrows raised to the sky as his stitches pulled his cheeks.

“Why are you asking about it?” He asked you.

“The others talked about those kinds of things and you didn’t say anything.” You sat up, the bell on your hat ringing. “You just stayed quiet and listened to them go on and on.”

He sat up and shrugged. “I didn’t feel the need to.” He explained. “I’m not the kind of person who would do those kinds of things. Besides, I’m too busy to think about any of it.”

You thought about all the times that you were not able to hang out with Hongjoong. Especially when Halloween starts showing up. But you figured it was the same way with everyone else. Even the boys were sometimes too busy to hang out with you when Christmas was coming around.

With the fact that you were not able to enjoy christmas the way everyone else was, things were different for you. You had all the time in the world to enjoy life, while others were busy. You could only imagine how much of a pain it was for Hongjoong being the head of Halloween.

“You said you were the Pumpkin King, right?” You asked.

He nodded his head, tilting it to the side as he wondered where you were going.

You turned back around, scooting back so that you could fall into his arms. He happily held them open for you, allowing you to lay you back against his chest. His nosed at your cheek, feeling the warmth from your always red skin.

“”It must be really hard to find someone.” You told him.

He paused, stitches being pulled as a small smile fell onto his lips. “I don’t think it’s really all that hard.” He said.

You turned to look at him, your eyes sparkling as they took in the soft way he looked at you. “So you do have someone?”

You were about to move out of his arms, causing him to giggle as he crushed you back between his arms. His head fell to your neck, giving you simple kisses that had you laughing.

“It took years but I finally found someone who means more to me than being Pumpkin King.”

You turned around swiftly, legs moving to either side of his thighs. “More than being Pumpkin king?” You shook your head. “That’s one of the greatest honors a Halloween Town citizen can have. It’s like the Santa of Halloween.”

He laughed, smiling. He brought his forehead down to touch yours. “I was created to be the next Pumpkin King. The bones I have within me belonged to a past one and yet just like them I longed to find something that would fill an emptiness that would not go away.”

“There’s something out there, far from my home, a longing that I’ve never known.” He hummed quietly, bringing his hand up to touch your cheek.

He leaned back down against the blanket, bringing you with him. You placed your hands on his chest, allowing him to stroke your back as you got comfortable atop him.

“That longing could only be filled by someone like you.”

You softly placed your lips against his lips, stealing his breath as your emotions rose. Your hand moved into his hair, softly scratching at the scalp. There was a moan that fell from his lips at the stimulation, which made you pull back in fright.

You pulled yourself up, staring down at him. He was panting, eyes drooping as he looked up at you.

“I’m not going to stop.” He said breathlessly.

You gasped quietly, as he pulled you closer, quickly turning over to lay over you. He reached up to rub his hand against your cheek softly, staring at you with sharp eyes that seemed to make you melt.

You raised your own hand, thumbing at his stitches that fell directly from his eyes. “I don’t want you to.”

His next kiss was electrifying. It was harsh and demanding but even though it seemed that way, it was clear neither of you knew what to do. It was not your first kiss but it was the first time you were feeling as though summer was creeping through your bones.

His tongue swept out to touch your bottom lip, allowing you the room to open your mouth for him. This was out of the ordinary for you, never really knowing what it was like to be with someone in this way.

But everything Hongjoon did, you didn’t dare want to question. It made you feel an excitement–a warmth you had been longing for, for such a long time. It was exhilarating, magnificent. It was terrifying to feel such a need for Hongjoong.

You pulled away from him breathlessly, the cooling air coming from the fall breeze did nothing to cool you. The red you always had on your skin from the biting cold was no longer your body trying to warm you up to survive. This time the flush you had was because of Hongjoong. And he wanted to see much more of it.

His thigh nudged itself in between your own, opening your legs for his body to move in between. There was something between his legs you had never felt before and it was leaving you to burn up. Your knees were pulled up, allowing Hongjoong the space to slot himself perfectly.

The hands you had behind his head moved, wanting to feel more of his skin so you placed them under his shirt, feeling the soft skin of his shoulders. Before you realized it, the man leaned up, quickly taking off his shirt that had you leaning on your elbows to stare at him wide eyed.

The stitches. The discoloration of each patch of skin. His muscles.

Nothing could ever compare to the haunting beauty someone like Kim Hongjoong had. He was someone who was created to rule–someone who demanded attention in his own way. Even if he wasn’t completely his own, the way he was put together was meant to be one of a kind.

“What?” He smiled at you, chuckling at the look you had.

“I’ve never seen someone like you.” You spoke softly.

Hongjoong frowned just for a moment, about to lean back and away from you feeling like there was something wrong. You quickly caught on though, reaching back up to pull him closer to you. You placed your forehead against his, closing your eyes as your lips brushed his in a soft way.

Once again, you rubbed at his stitches, this time the ones near his mouth. Opening your eyes he watched as you looked at him with such an intense stare it made him want to cry.

“Someone like you means that nothing will ever compare to the kind of beauty you have.” You whispered. “In all my years of living–you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“Thank you.” He whispered.

You leaned back in to give him a kiss. This time you allowed him to take off your coat, the green fabric falling behind you as you climbed into Hongjoong’s lap. He was rushing though, seeming more attached to you as he laid you down again.

His hands moved under your shirt, pushing it up as he tried to reveal your breasts. The bra you wore was plain, nothing fancy because of the standard elf uniform. You would have never thought about dressing pretty for Hongjoong, but now that he is looking at you the way he is, you wished you had.

However he didn’t seem to mind as he quickly pushed your bra cups up and over your nipple so he could see them. You squeaked, looking up at him, shoulders scrunched up causing your arms to push your boobs together more.

Hongjoong started to smile, a chuckle slipping past his lips. “You are so precious.”

You laughed, his body leaning over to give you a peck before he dove down to tongue at your chest. Your chuckle was cut off when his mouth encased a nipple. A sharp gasp left your lip, back arching to chase his tongue laving at you.

You felt him snicker against your skin, so you glanced down to find him already smiling up at you devilishly as your nipple was caught between his teeth. You were getting tired of your shirt and bra being in the way so you made a rush to take them off.

With the only thing left being your skirt and tights, Hongjoong took a moment to look at you. You wanted to feel self conscious, but the way his fingers skimmed your sides and touched you things couldn’t be going any slower.

He took in a breath. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

You nodded your head, wanting to reach for him again.

“I need you to answer me.” His lips wobbled, almost as if he was trying to reassure himself.

“I love you, Hongjoong.” Was all you told him.

His lips twitched, fingers digging into your skin for just a moment as he took in your response. “I love you too, Jingle.”

You raised your hips up, moving to pull your skirt and tights down in one go as the fall breeze finally touched your heated core. There was no need for underwear when you wore tights. And it seemed like Hongjoong appreciated it a lot because he seemed to straightened up at the sigh of you.

“I’m going to take off my pants. Okay?” He told you, pulling at his belt.

You sat up, confused why he was shaking as he took off his pants. You began to worry maybe he didn’t want to be one with you in that way.

“Hongjoong you don’t have to do this.” You quickly told him, sitting up. Your hands went to stop him but he lightly shoved you away.

“I want to.” He told you. “I just–Don’t exactly look like all the others. I don’t have the same appendage as everyone else.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

There wasn’t exactly anything you could compare it to. It’s not like the other elves go around telling stories of their escapades or how things worked within a relationship. You only could question him. Because as far as you could tell Hongjoong, this was going to be your first time doing anything like this.

“It has–stitches.” He cringed at the thought, which only made you frown.

You sat up, pulling your knees under you. Your hand went to his pants, making him freeze up, his hands clenched into fists at his side. You began to pull them down, not removing the eye contact you had with him. But he was quick to look down at where you were going.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” You told him honestly. “But I want you to know that no matter what you have you will always be someone beautiful to me.”

He gulped, nodding his head. “You make me feel less dead inside.”

You smiled, fingers now dancing along his shaft. He moaned out quietly, and you felt it twitch up.

“And you give me the warmth of a thousand melting snowflakes.” You pushed to touch his lips with yours.

You felt him move to wrap your hand around his entire length, finally feeling the ridges of the stitches he was talking about along your palm. They were on the underside of his shaft, running along the entire length. You moaned from how warm he felt in your hand.

You thumbed at the bumps, feeling against your lips how he would groan. He took off the rest of his pants, pushing and pulling to get you in his desired position. You could feel the warmth he was giving off on your core, and it made you even more heated than you cared to admit.

“Hongjoong…”You whispered, feeling along his scarred skin.

“I–I’m trying my best.” He told you, holding himself up with his arms. “This is my first–”

“It’s okay.” You smiled bashfully. “It’s mine too.”

Hongjoong’s lips pulled up feeling something swell in his chest that felt much deeper than anything he could have imagined. Neither of you could think of anything better than getting the chance to be with one another in this way. It was something Hongjoong could only dream of thinking that maybe he would be viewed as something out of the ordinary.

Hongjoong took in a deep breath, looking down between your legs before moving to touch you. The gasp you let out had him flinching but when he saw your face, he found himself wanting to touch you in places that would have you gasping and out of breath.

But he found himself losing his own breath, noticing how sensitive the tip of his cock was as his fingers grazed both your hole and his shaft. Each time you would move your hips up just to get his cock to rub against you, he found it harder to hold off from shoving in.

He wanted to–gosh did he want to–but he wanted to enjoy the moment for a bit more. He didn’t want to rush. He didn’t want to reach the point of cumming prematurely because he wanted this to be good for you too.

All he had to go by was off what the others would talk about. But this was much more than a simple hook up they seemed to do when they would go out into the real world. This was someone he loved with all his being.

“Hongjoong.” You called him.

He looked up from his stupor, pausing when he saw your glazed over look. “Tell me if it hurts.”

You didn’t have to say anything else as he was quick to start pushing in.

Your toes curled, your legs clenched, you could feel every little bump that came with the stitches. It was something you could never describe. You had no idea how to voice to him that you wished you were able to feel it all over again for the first time.

Hongjoong was going in slowly, choking gasps falling from his lips as every inch that he went in was covered by a pulsing warmth. He was panting, gritting his teeth together to keep from spilling too early.

“Hongjoong.” You gasped.

Your back arched, hands splayed against his chest. He leaned to one side, the overwhelming feeling of pleasure taking over. He pulled on your leg to wrap around his waist. Your eyes shot open at the new position, clenching around his length.

“How–How is it this good?” He gasped out, hand messaging into your thigh.

His breath hit the tips of your ears, the pointed flesh flicking from the tickle. All he got in response were your whimpers and soft whines. And when you began to move your hips when he bottomed out, Hongjoong couldn’t hold it in.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered out, smashing his lips to yours in a frenzied manner to keep you occupied while his hips began to move back and forth.

Your blunt nails dug themselves into his shoulders, pulling at the skin which caused a stinging coming from the stitches he had there. The stinging only made him groan. His hips went faster.

There was an inexplicable feeling that was beginning to build in the both of you that had you trying to chase it. Hongjoong’s movement became frantic, while you wiggle your hips closer to his. With each rub against his pelvis you felt an even better feeling. And each time you moved up you it felt like you would touch it. So you tried your best to chase the feeling.

When something started to pull, your pants turned into whimpers and cries in Hongjoong’s ears.

“(Y/N)...” Hongjoong panted, fingers digging into your leg.

He didn’t stutter his hips this time, rather than a rhythmic movement, he was pounding in you slowly and trying to get you to cum. And when you did, Hongjoong swore you could almost cut off all circulation with how tight you felt.

You felt everything when you clenched down and saw stars. You could feel your body becoming overstimulated and your legs began to shake. But you knew that Hongjoong still needed more so you let him continue as you panted and cried.

And when he came you nearly cried from how primal it was for him. His hand smacked next to your head, clenching at the ground. His forehead laid against yours, your breaths mixing from all the sharp intake of breathing you were doing. He stilled his hips, allowing his length to twitch inside you as you felt a warmth spill from him.

He sniffled, softly kissing your lips as you both came down from your high. You smiled, feeling the twitches each muscle gave out and the tiredness seeped into you. Your fingers still wanted to touch him so they lightly played along the skin of his chest.

Finally, Hongjoong leaned to the side, falling over and pulling you close to his side. With his body off of you, you could feel the wind brush past your heated skin.

For the first time in such a long while the cold didn’t bother you.

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