#yuletide pairings

[tfwcharles]

Yuletide Pairings | Charles & Eleanor

The first thing Charles thought when his name was drawn was that his partner was first, unknown to him, but second obviously rather young. He could not help but sigh as he was sure she was a naive young lady who was experiencing her first season and who would be either very awkward and dull or be reveal herself to be both a terrible flirt and rather bourgeois.

When he heard her name, however, he knew that she must be one of Admiral Turner’s daughters: which meant that she was a member of His Majesty’s Most Honorable Aerial Brigade. A most distasteful employment for a woman. Charles audibly groaned when he realized this.

He couldn’t think of anyone worse to be paired with.

(That was not strictly true, but whenever Charles was at all inconvenienced, he tended to be rather dramatic.)

He decided then and there that he would be as civil as he could manage, but he was already prepared for this young lady to grate upon his nerves in every possible way. “Miss Turner,” He greeted, bowing his head in her direction and offering her his arm, “Happy Yuletide to you and your family.”

[sailtomarina]

In Light of Roasted Chestnuts

Luna x Lavender | @hp-yuletide-bliss Day 14: Fairy lights | WC 1410 | Rating: T

Lavender had never really liked Luna Lovegood back when they were students. She could never understand how the witch was even sorted into Ravenclaw; surely with the comments she made and how she wandered around the castle barefoot and starry-eyed, she couldn’t have enough brains to riddle her way past the famous door to the Eagle’s Nest.

Yet, there she was, wearing her blue and bronze tie and sitting out of place with the Gryffindors looking for all the world like she belonged.

That had been years ago, and the looney witch was the furthest person from Lavender’s mind once the dust settled and her new reality came to light.

She had survived Greyback, but with a cost that included sensitivity to loud noises, awareness to more smells than she could even put a name to, and a propensity to violence once a month.

Lavender was a werewolf.

It was an inelegant existence, but fitting for what she’d become. She saw her ugliness reflected in the eyes of her parents and in Ronald’s expression when he visited her at the hospital. He tried to hide it, but she saw how he flinched and grimaced, saw the way he leaned back into swotty little Hermione’s arm. At least she had the good graces to look Lavender straight in the eye as she gave her condolences. A part of her regretted going after the wrong member of the trio.

Life on the fringes of society was her new reality. She hid her face from the public and willed herself into obscurity. If nobody remembered her, then nobody would compare the Lavender she was now to the Lavender she used to be. The real her.

There was no hiding from Luna.

“Hello, Lavender. You smell wonderful, like fresh pine. Much better than the vanilla you used to favor, I think.” 

Her hand froze over the box of chestnuts. She’d meant to take home a small bagful and roast it over the fire like she used to love as a child. It was one of the comforts she looked forward to every Christmas, and Lavender wanted to return to some semblance of familiarity no matter how elusive.

She pulled back her hand. She’d come back later, or maybe she’d just go without this year.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to distract you. I love roasted chestnuts, too.”

Peeking through her curtain of curls, Lavender eyed the young woman before her. The years had been kind to Luna.

Either she was backlit by the sun, or Luna just always glowed. Her white-blonde hair, a shade similar to which Lavender had once admired on Draco Malfoy, fell in loose waves to Luna’s waist, nearly as long as her own. Only, Luna didn’t hide behind hers. She wore it tucked behind both ears and beamed up bare faced at Lavender like she was happy to see her. A small sniff verified it.

“You didn’t distract me.” To prove her point, she turned back around and scooped up a hefty amount of the nuts into her bag.

“That’s a relief, because I’d love to catch up with you.”

Lavender’s back stiffened at the comment.

Catch up? Was she barmy? Since when were they ever the sorts of friends to catch up with one another? Lavender hadn’t even seen Parvati in ages; she’d probably burned that particular bridge when she ignored her wedding invitation.

“I know we haven’t ever talked much,” Luna’s melodic voice continued, almost like she’d read Lavender’s thoughts, “but I’d like to change that starting today.”

As Lavender processed the outlandish statement, the din of the market rose around her like a threatening wave. She felt small, overwhelmed in the face of laughter, family members calling out to one another across the space, the sound of workers dropping heavy boxes onto palettes. Her muscles tensed and readied to spring away to safety. If there was one thing she’d appreciated with the change, it was her reflexes.

Oh, and her hair. She’d always cared for it like her most loved pet, treating it with all manners of serums and hydrating creams. Now it naturally lay in perfect spirals that shone like golden brown loaves fresh from the oven.

Just as she decided she was done with the odd conversation, a sweet scent wafted towards her and she inhaled deeply.

Berries, fresh bread, butter.

“I just baked some panettone if you’d like to come over for a spot of tea?”

The smell was Luna.

An embarrassing grumble filled the space between them. Lavender colored at the betrayal of her stomach and her companion’s tinkling of laughter that brightened the air like fairy lights.

“We can roast some of those chestnuts while we chat. What do you say?”

“I don’t know…I don’t want to impose.” Her hesitation made itself known even though Lavender teetered in indecision. She was hungry, for both food and company. It had been so long since she’d last sat down and just talked with another person who wasn’t her mum and dad. Plus, it was only Luna. She barely knew the girl, no, woman, but she knew enough to recall how she never did care about the opinions of others. She went where she wished, spoke to whoever she pleased, and had gone through many of the same experiences as Lavender.

What’s more, she’d survived Malfoy Manor.

Somehow, she’d forgotten that fact until now.

For the first time since the start of their interaction, Lavender looked at Luna. She let the curtain fall away from her face, from her scars, and searched for…something. She traced the fine lines of Luna’s pale brows and cheekbones, followed the straight line of her nose down to pink lips that still held a gentle smile. Luna was…breathtaking. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had Fae in her bloodline, or perhaps Veela ancestors.

Silver eyes, mercurial and captivating, searched back. What did she see, Lavender wondered, as she looked at her torn face? Did she see the vestiges of a young girl who’d once thought herself beautiful? Did she think her vain and deserving of her fate?

“No, I don’t think that.”

Lavender’s jaw tightened. She knew she hadn’t said her thoughts aloud. Was Luna a Legilimens?

“Your emotions show on your face,” she said matter-of-factly.

Lavender laughed scornfully. As if anything could be read on her face.

“They also show in your aura.” Luna picked up an orange and inspected it carefully before lifting it to her nose. “Mmm, I think these will go lovely with the bread. What do you think?” She offered the orb towards Lavender, head tilted in an earnest question.

“I think you don’t know the first thing about me,” Lavender said honestly. Still, she breathed in deep, taking in the fragrant citrus and nodding in approval.

Luna tucked the orange along with one more into her basket. The ivory shawl around her shoulders slipped down as she did so, and Lavender couldn’t help but reach forward to tug it back into place.

“Thank you.”

“It was nothing.”

“I think you could use my company as much as I could use yours.”

The sounds of the market rose again in volume, only this time, Lavender let herself be surrounded. She studied the other witch more closely.

At first glance, she’d seemed the older version of the girl she remembered: a little odd, a little whimsical, transcendent in a way wholly Luna.

But now?

Lavender gave herself over to her senses and felt the immediate shift. Her sight sharpened and saw past the delicate features. There were faint lines on her forehead; they could be from laughter, but they could just as easily come from stress. Her eyes, too. Lavender had been so taken by the striking color of them that she’d completely overlooked the red rims and bags indicating poor sleep and a tiredness deep in one’s bones.

The light weight in Lavender’s hand reminded her of why she’d come and why she was still here. It was Christmas Eve, and she was alone. It was Christmas Eve, she was hungry, and Luna was inviting her over for a cup of tea, fresh bread, and the promise of shared chestnuts.

“Let me wrap up real quick, and then we can go.”

Her stomach flipped at the pleased sound Luna made as she clapped her hands and gave a little hop of excitement.

She let herself hope, just small enough for a little light to slip through.

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3.

I wanted to try a bit of F/F since I’ve never written it before, much less considered it. I’ve always been more of one of the boys in my friendships, so writing girls has always been a bit difficult for me. I wasn’t sure whether to make this more of a friendly kind of relationship, or hint at a possible romance between the two women. What do you think? How do their interactions come across to you, the reader?

I may have found og Lavender extremely annoying and off-putting, even before Ron, but I always felt terrible about her ending. I’d like to imagine that she survived Grebyack and overcame any obstacles lycanthrophy threw at her. She was resilient in love, so why not in other parts of her life, as well?

[mostcursedofpastas]

Please tell me people are writing Taskmaster AU fanfics.  Not AUs of the show taskmaster but AUs where characters are participating in a taskmaster-type show.  I know they’d be more challenging to write than, say, GBBO AUs, but I also know there are people out there who are up to the challenge.

[mochie85]

Blue Christmas

One-Shots Masterlist | Complete Masterlist | Secret Santa Masterlist

Summary: You ask Loki to give you something special for Christmas. A/N: This is a Secret Santa gift for @divine-knight-hand. I wanted to give you everything you requested, my love, but I already wrote something similar a while ago. For the sake of not sounding repetitive, I altered your request just a little bit. I hope you still like it. However, please check out the other story because it checks off all your points! And is Christmas-themed! Mayari: If You Let Me. Also, sorry for the cringy title. I couldn't think of anything else. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: Over 2.7k Warnings: Explicit. Smut. P in V. Jotunn Loki (yes, cuz he's a whole warning!)

You crossed your legs as the last rays of the sun were trickling down on your body. Your book was discarded on the ground as the condensation from your Pina Colada dripped down onto the side table.

Loki had surprised you and whisked you away to the Fiji Islands for Christmas— no more crowded New York streets. No more dirty ice falling onto you from the splash of an oncoming taxicab. And certainly, no more missions and assignments till the New Year.

It had been an exhaustive nineteen-hour flight. Especially since he didn’t tell you anything he was planning. When you came home to your room earlier that day, you were greeted by Loki with two suitcases on either side of him.

“Merry Yuletide, Darling,” he said as he rolled your luggage over to you and kissed you on your lips in greeting.

“Loki- what?”

“No time to explain, we need to leave now in order to catch our flight,” he said ushering you out the door by patting you on the bum. You jumped up with giddiness, planting a lipstick-stained kiss on his cheek. He was always surprising you with little trinkets and excursions.

“Thank you, sir,” you said in a deep voice.

“Ooh, you dangerous nymph. Go on. I need my wits about me till we get on the plane. I can’t have you distracting me.”

“Then, after?” you asked luring him to a sinful promise.

“After,” he promised in the same breathy tone.

That was two days ago. Loki had kept his promise, and then some- inducting you both into the mile-high club several times over.

Now, here you were in a private villa surrounded by an infinity pool that stretched towards the Pacific, watching your godly boyfriend come out of the water. He ran his hands through his hair, combing the droplets from his tresses. Beads fell down the defined lines of his muscles causing you to heat up in the already balmy weather.

The sight of Loki, wet and in nothing but short swim trunks, was enough to make you convulse. You were sure that if Michelangelo had a model for David, it would’ve been Loki. And knowing Loki, you wouldn’t have been surprised if it was him.

He came up to you, lounging on your chair, and shook his wet hair in front of you to tease you. “St-stop!” you laughed as you playfully pushed him before you got completely wet.

“Awe, come on, Darling. I thought you liked me wet?” he charmed as he sat next to you and leaned in for a kiss.

“I have to admit, it is kind of refreshing.” You said as your hands guided themselves around his slick body. “It’s so hot here. I might need something to cool me down,” you tempted.

There was a flash of understanding in his face. Nights of hedonistic pleasure and anticipation of his moods taught you how to read him. If you weren’t so attuned to him- so zealously infatuated with him and his praise over you, you would have missed it. But you didn’t.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing. I just-” he paused for a second, trying to find the right words. “There was a reason why I chose Fiji.”

“You mean, the beautiful waters and sandy beaches weren’t enough of a reason?” you joked.

“It’s in the southern hemisphere. Which means that it’s summer here whilst still cold and winter back home.”

“Why would the season be an issue?”

“Contingency.”

“Contingency, for what?” you asked confused.

“It was about what you wanted for Christmas,” he answered slowly. Confusion still clouding your memory. Little bits and pieces of a long-forgotten conversation nipped at your mind as you tried to piece together what you had asked him to give you.

As if to remind you, Loki raised his hand and cupped your face. As he did so, his fingers turned a beautiful shade of blue. It was fair, yet sharp. It reminded you of the color of blue thistles on a cold afternoon.

As he touched your cheek, a shiver ran down your skin making you shudder for the first time since you arrived. Realization struck you as you remembered the conversation you two had a month ago.

“I think I know what I want for Christmas,” you lured him in. “And what is that, my Darling?” Loki said absentmindedly while looking through his mission briefing. “You." “You already have me,” he scoffed, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I meant…all of you…the other you…” you trailed silently. Loki looked at you bewildered. There were many nights he had dreamt of taking you in his other form, wondering how you would react to him. He’s postponed showing you this long because he was afraid of his feral nature. He would be at the mercy of his urges and base needs. Loki wasn’t quite sure how to ease you into that new situation. Would he be too much for you? Knowing your adventurous spirit, you wouldn’t mind having his beastly side take you. “Why, you little nymph. Now, why would you want to see that side of me, hmm?”

Excitement bubbled up inside you. “Loki, I-” you started, but he quickly put a finger to your lips to quiet you.

“I want this, Darling. And I want it with you. So, if at any point in time, you want to stop, you know our safe word.” You nodded your head enthusiastically and Loki chuckled. “But I should let you know, that…there was a reason why I’ve waited this long to show you. I become somewhat different when I change. Jotunns, in their very nature, are severe. Harsher. They have to be, to live in the climate they do, and survive.”

You sat there, fervently hanging onto every word Loki was saying. “We relied upon each other for strength, for warmth, basic needs…” Loki trailed off, tracing your lower lip with his cold finger.  “You can imagine the creativity we had in finding ways to keep our blood warm and stave off the frigid climate.” You nodded solemnly at his words as if they were gospel.

“If we do this, I need you to be in control. Do you understand me, Darling?” he asked, inching closer to you. You felt a shiver run down your body. You focused on his eyes as his lips weaved a spell for you to follow. “I won’t know how much is too much. How rough is too rough.”

Loki grabbed your hips and sat you on his lap. The sudden move made you yelp into his arms. “Sorry, my dear. You see, I’m already too excited. My body is reacting to you.” He ran his nose up and down your neck. His cold hands encircled your back, caging you on top of him. “I’ve wanted to take you like this for so long.” His hands entwined themselves with your hair and pulled as his lips met yours in a crushing kiss.

You held on tightly, with your legs wrapped around his waist, as Loki stood up and walked both of you to the edge of your bed. When he broke the kiss, you heard him moan before he continued to suck a bruise onto your neck.

You felt his body change. The hairs atop your skin began to stand as the temperature began to drop. The once-sweltering heat that prickled your skin was replaced by the cool tingles of his touch. It surrounded you and enveloped you in a cold caress. You finally understood the need for a warmer climate. With a slight force, he released you from him, falling onto the soft mattress below.

That was when you had your first glimpse of his true self. The beautiful shade of blue you had seen earlier spread throughout his body. His form was somehow sharper, more jagged. Yet still soft and giving. He had markings defined by fine lines and grooves. They traced over his muscles and sinew, highlighting the best parts of himself. You followed them with your eyes as it led your stare down to his protruding cock. Your jaw went slack as you noticed how hard he was for you already.

Loki watched you appraise him. Your wanton eyes grew darker, and your breathing got quicker. His senses picked up every reaction that your body was going through. He was prepared to confront your fear or disgust, but he couldn’t see that in your face. Instead, he saw hunger and need. He could smell your desire growing for him and it made him feral. He wrapped his hands around his shaft, stroking himself to the sight of you, ready and waiting on his bed.

Loki felt ravenous as he knelt over you on top of the sheets. He spread your legs apart, seating himself in between the warmth of your thighs. His heavy cock resting atop your wet cunt. His hands eagerly tore up your swimsuit as they explored and venerated your body. His lip’s sole mission was to mark bruises where his hands had trailed, following the chill of his touch.

“…Loki…”

“Shh, Darling. I won’t hurt you. Unless you want me to,” he winked as he nipped the underside of your breast. Too many emotions. Too many thoughts. They were swirling at the forefront of his mind wanting to be said. His desire for you was overwhelming him.

In this form, he felt more primal. His emotions were stronger and almost frightening, but all he felt was fire. Everywhere. An all-consuming heat that wouldn’t dissipate until he had claimed you. His need for you was never as aggressive as it was right now. If he wasn’t careful, he knew he could easily hurt you. He needed you to be in control.

“Don’t stop,” you begged him.

“And what would you have me do my Darling?” he breathed onto your skin. “Tell me, and I will comply.” Loki was giving you the green light. The authority to take over because he wasn’t sure if he could be gentle enough not to harm you.

Oh, but the fire. The fire inside him wouldn’t relent. “Shall I force my cock down your throat till you gag for me to stop?” he suggested with a grin. You bit your lip and moaned as the image took hold in your mind. You moved your hips involuntarily, rubbing against his hefty shaft.

“Maybe I’ll edge you for the rest of our stay. Keep you here tied to our bed, my little slave, until I’ve properly bred you.” Loki seized your lips and held you down on the bed. His cold hands capture your wrist in an icy grip.

“S’cold,” you gritted.

“You can take it. You don’t mind a little bit of frostbite. Don’t you, my love?” He ground his hips as he bit into the soft flesh of your shoulder, leaving teeth marks in their wake. You felt his hard cock rub against your sensitive nub. It elicited the most erotic noise from your lips. Loki fought to keep his composure. With every moan you made, it got harder and harder for him to control his urges.

“I thought this was supposed to be my Christmas present,” you sighed, regaining some form of authority and clarity. You intertwined your fingers with his and signaled him to turn over with your hip. You pushed his shoulders down onto the bed as you straddled his waist.

Loki looked up at you in all your glory. Your beautiful face shining down with love and adoration was enough to heal the worry and anxiety he was feeling. “I want to admire my present,” you pouted as your eyes took all of him in.

His mischievous smile broke through as he raised his arms and placed his hands behind his head. “As you wish,” he hissed as the corded muscles in his biceps swelled.

You traced his beautiful blue markings down from his arms to his pecs. “You’re beautiful,” you whispered absent-mindedly, getting lost in the exploration of his body. Loki blushed at your words. He had never heard that word describe his Jotunn form before and it ignited a warm glow inside of him. Different than the fire, but still heated.

You leaned over him as your study led you to his neck and handsome face. You traced his dark lips as he opened them. His bright ruby eyes concentrated on you. “I love my present,” you whispered before you gently kissed him. “Thank you.”

Loki deepened the kiss, his tongue invading yours, as he wrapped his arms around you once again. His cold touch left a trail of goosebumps as he squeezed and grabbed your ass. He raised you slightly with one hand. And with the other, he guided himself into your entrance. The slick of your arousal coating the tip of his hard cock. “Are you ready for me?” he grunted. You nodded your head, keeping your lips on his, not wanting to break contact.

He thrust deep into your body. His heels held on against the mattress of the bed. He held your hips stable as he continued to drive upwards slowly- savoring how snug you were around him.  Every pull of your tight pussy made him moan your name. “…yes…”  he whined.

You sat up, holding onto his shoulders for support. “I need you, Loki,�� you pleaded. Your nails dug into his dark skin as your hips took over his strokes. “…deeper…faster…”

“Take me then, Darling. Use me.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to do this for you. To be good for you. With each push of your hips, he unraveled each time. Crowning to a tight knot in his abdomen.

You waited patiently for him to open his eyes and see the love and pride you had for him. When he did, you were met with an intense sparkle of carmine. Desire and vulnerability shone through, swirling in his gaze. His brows furrowed with pleasure as he bit his lip. “…oh, fuck…” he cried.

You moved faster. Your swollen clit rubbed against his dark curls adding to the already heightened pleasure you were building. You took his hands from your hips and guided them up your body. You placed them over your bouncing tits and he squeezed- rubbing your hardened nipple with his thumb.

“That’s my good little whore,” he gasped. “You like it rough don’t you?” You squeezed tighter around him in answer and Loki couldn’t stop the wolfish grin on his face.

He swallowed thickly watching you enjoy his touch. “Loki” you screamed. The only indication that you had reached your climax and was about to topple over. You trembled over his body screaming his name over and over as you came down from your bliss.

“Don’t stop, Darling.” He pushed harder into you. “Ride me,” he commanded. Loki watched as you clenched around his hard cock- disappearing into your wet folds. The sight was enough to make him tremble.

God, he was so much bigger in this form. You had to push hard to meet the hilt of his shaft. You raised your hips and dipped back down eliciting the deepest groan fleeing his lips. “That’s a good girl,” he whispered. “Fuckin’ good girl.” His head tilted back and the desire to claim you came back. He had to take you faster. Harder.

He dug his heels back into the mattress and slammed his hips upwards. The gasping air leaving your lungs, the wicked moans filling his ears. All of it coerced him to cum inside you- finally releasing his pent-up yearning. Loki couldn’t stop the moans or praises leaving his lips. Your name peppered in with teasing curses and praises.  “You always know how to make me feel good, don’t you, pet?” he prized as he took a deep breath to steady his exhaustion.

“Mmm, yes sir.” You kissed him ardently, taking his breath away from his already spent lungs. You trailed your kisses down to his neck and onto his panting chest. Each kiss made your lips tingle and chilly.

“We should probably get ready for dinner. What say you, my love?”

“Hmm? Maybe in a while…I’m not done playing with my Christmas gift yet.” You responded as your lips traveled further down towards his already hardening cock.

Loki smiled as he closed his eyes, savoring the feel of your warm tongue on his cool skin. “In a while,” he repeated. “Fuck…in a while.”

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish ++

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Thunderous

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bang Chan

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Werewolf AU! Royalty AU!

Warnings: There are some elements of non-con in this fanfic. Please don’t read if you don’t like those elements. Mentions of knotting and rough sex. There’s also a lot of explicit smut and language throughout.

Summary: The Wolf King’s name seared your heart. You had been chosen as the youngest and most expendable daughter to be his mate. But you were terrified of the legends surrounding his bloody campaigns. How were you going to survive?

Tag List: @armystay89 @captainchrisstan @starseekersworld @melsunshine @kibs-and-bits

The Wolf King’s name whispered through the trees and hummed between the villages like the ancient stories of the gods.

Some of the villagers claimed that he could transform—bones cracking and teeth elongating until there was no man left. They said his claws could cut through trees and that his howl silenced the instincts of the mountain lions who cowered in their dens. In place of human skin, fur sprouted thick and rough, darkening until it matched the color of the shadows.

The myth and lore had been passed down for years, and you found yourself on the receiving end of all those stories. As the Wolf King’s future mate, you had also become something of an enigma around the kingdom. People looked at you with a glint of respect, bowing their heads and moving out of your way whenever you made your rounds. 

The attention that you hated. Especially when the marriage had been arranged without your willing compliance. Young girl fantasies of handsome princes and distant lands vanquished in an instant. But even if you couldn’t indulge in happiness anymore, there had been a time when you allowed yourself to dream about your wedding. 

Bubbling colors of red and green—like your kingdom’s annual yuletide celebrations—and a long, flowing white gown extending across the floor like an elegant brush of paint. Pure as you had always been. There was beautiful music in your dream, and a gorgeous prince to take you into his arms and glide you across the floor like the clouds moving in the sky.

Fantasies, indeed.

Instead, of merriment and goodwill, you found yourself trembling from head to toe, holding tight to the sleeve of your handmaiden’s gown as she escorted you through the recital hall, down the aisle to where you recognized the Wolf King waiting.

You had only met him twice before. Once, when you had just turned twelve, on the day your families agreed to meet over the prospect of securing peace between your rival kingdoms.

When you were both little children, the Wolf King had no reputation. He was just a boy, and you greeted him with a smile—ignorant of the true purpose of your first meeting. While your parents talked about the future, you showed the Wolf King your favorite flowers, handing him individual stems while your mother bargained your life away:

“A union is our commitment to peace,” your mother had once proclaimed, reaching out to softly pat your curls. “We think they’ll do well together.”

“Yes.” But Chan’s mother didn’t seem convinced. She was an elegant and beautiful woman with long black hair and bright red eyes to match his defining features. “Chan will decide who he wants to marry,” his mother said.

“Y/N will make a good wife when she comes of age,” your mother insisted. “We’ll hire the best teachers to ensure that she is prepared for her duties.”

“That matters little to us,” Chan’s father spoke, and he regarded you like one might grimace at an annoying ant to step on.

You shied away from his intimidating stare, looking instead at Chan as he designed a flower crown for you, placing it on top of your head with a proud smile.

It was the last time he would ever show such kindness.

Over the years proceding your first meeting, Chan became a man, and his reputation for ruthlessness and fury ignited a storm of gossip. 

“The Wolf King stands taller than the gods!”

“The Wolf King slaughtered a village because they refused to bow down to him!”

“He’s a monster! Have mercy on us all!”

You became terrified at any mention of the Wolf King, wondering if your parents were still serious about a union. You found out the hard way when your mother invited the Wolf King and his generals to your kingdom. But you didn’t stick around for very long.

The next time you met, you were sixteen, and you ran away to the gardens in a rare show of rebellion against your parents who had expected you to dress pretty and show off for Chan.

But that wasn’t in your nature, and your instincts screamed at you to avoid the Wolf King. And you thought that you were alone in the forest. Surrounded by the quiet of the thick foliage. But then you heard the bushes move, and you noticed a large black head peering at you with piercing red eyes.

You relaxed when you realized that it was just a common wolf—probably one from the mountain packs, and you weren’t frightened. Animals had always held a special place in your heart, and you approached the wolf with palms upturned to show your peaceful intentions. The wolf never moved, and you stroked your fingers through the coarse fur on his head. 

You returned home that evening thinking your father would scold you for running off like that. But you were instead warmly greeted by your parents who were both ecstatic. “He agreed to marry you, Y/N!” your mother exclaimed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

It wasn’t.

Not at all.

And you had never experienced real fear in your entire life. But walking down the aisle in the chapel to where the fearless Wolf King waited for you, there was a bone-chilling tremble aching down your spine.

“So beautiful,” you heard faint whispers join together, urging you closer and closer to the Wolf King who gazed at you with the most intense stare you had ever received.

When you were within earshot, the Wolf King snatched your hand from the poor handmaiden who had been helping you walk down the aisle.

The girl quickly jumped to the side, bowing her head as the Wolf King forced you to stand in front of him, reaching down for your other hand. You reluctantly gave it to him, still looking at everything except for the Wolf King’s eyes, even if the little growl he gave showed that he disapproved.

You could hear your mother’s chastising voice in your head, scolding you for not pleasing the King. But you didn’t care anymore. Wasn’t it enough that you were standing there, giving your life away to a monster?

In the distant background, you could hear the priest delivering his lines, and when it was your turn, you gave your vow of allegiance, even if the words fell hot like acid from your unwilling tongue.

Thankfully, the ceremony did not require you to kiss him, dodging his wayward lips when they fell too close to yours. 

There was a rush when the proceedings concluded, the firm ushering of hands leading you out of the chapel. You stumbled in your heels, bringing yourself inadvertently closer to the Wolf King who held tighter to your waist. You did not enjoy the closeness, swallowing down your nerves as you tried not to think about what came next.

The crowd eventually parted, giving you enough space to walk down the steps in the open air, briefly acknowledging the cheering crowd spread through the streets. There was a distinct awe in the noise from the people around you, clambering over one another to get a good like at yourself and the predator who would soon claim you for his own. Wanting to acquaint themselves with your kingdom’s bargaining chip—a small sacrifice to ensure an alliance between your people and the ones who fought under Chan’s domain.

On paper, it seemed like a worthy solution to helping your kingdom protect its borders and fight off invaders. The problem was that you felt the weight of pleasing a man you had no interest in—someone who frightened you to your core. A sick knot tightened in your guts and your stomach clenched tighter as Chan led you to Castle Miroh—the notorious landmark of his territory symbolizing the power of the ruling family.

As the main doors parted, you winced at the sensation of the cold and harsh air inside, and a shiver passed down your spine as you forced yourself to keep up with Chan’s incessant pace, footsteps clacking against marble. It was dark in the corridors, and the only lighting came from the flames ensconced along the walls, casting everything in shadows. Ahead in the distance, you could see the outline of a grand staircase, and your eyes worked tirelessly to mark each step on your darkened path.

It turned out that Chan kept his quarters on the highest floor, latching your fingers together the entire time, even as you forced down the bile permanently hitched at the back of your throat at the thought of all the blood that had stained those hands. 

At the top of the staircase, you were pulled to the left, marching down an impressive corridor with a soft, velvet carpet beneath your soles. Eventually, you found yourself in front of a large, wooden door, and Chan ushered you through the frame, a hand to your lower back as your eyes paused on the King-sized bed waiting beneath an unholy painting of a bloody battle scene.

You will present yourself to the Wolf King, you recalled the words of your tutor. He will expect obedience from his mate.

You blinked away tears, knowing what you were expected to do next, and deciding to push through your nerves before you lost the contents of your stomach on the floor. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, but you ignored your instincts, loosening the straps of your dress to allow it to pool into a mess on the floor at your feet, and kicking it aside as you eliminated the remaining distance to the bed. 

You didn’t want to show him that you were weak. That he had any sort of influence that might condemn you a coward. You could not be seen as pathetic in the eyes of a monster, crawling on hands and knees to the center of the bed, head ducked down between your trembling arms and waiting.

Your breath caught when the bed dipped beneath his weight, and you gritted your teeth, feeling his hands take your hips with a powerful grip, nails digging into the soft skin.

The Wolf King will fuck you, your tutor had said, Then he will bite you to complete the mating ritual.

You had seen the Wolf King’s teeth. Sharp like razors and pointed at the ends. You would be a bloody mess at the end of this, but no one could ever accuse you of shirking your responsibilities. You had done everything expected of you, holding on to this thought of solace as you waited for him to take his fill.

“Don’t,” he abruptly whispered, startling you as he laid down on the mattress at your side, closing his eyes and letting out a grumble, completely unbothered with his own nakedness. 

It must’ve happened while you were turned away, but it was still jarring to see so much pale skin on display, marred with jagged scars and scarlet bruises. Eyes trailing over the swell of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and down to this impressive cock. 

You swallowed hard. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“No,” Chan said, chest deflating. “You do not want that.”

His response surprised you, and you wanted nothing more than to hurriedly tuck the sheet around your body to hide you from him. “I thought you were meant to-”

“We are equals,” Chan interrupted with a much firmer tone. “And you are afraid.”

Equals? The word didn’t seem right coming from him, but you weren’t about to question what was seemingly amounting to an act of mercy. Quick as a flash, you had the sheet bundled against your chest, eyes wide as you looked him over. “The mating-”

“We can do the bite,” Chan continued as if he didn’t care that he wasn’t fulfilling the only purpose you had been given. “But in the morning. The celebrations earlier exhausted me. Such frivolous trivialities.”

“Won’t they notice-”

“Who are they?” Chan barked with a hint of a growl that had you flinching. “There is no one who orders the King around.”

His dark pupils met yours in the dark, searching for something. You swallowed hard, unsure what he was looking for, but focusing on the calming sensation of relief flooding your system at his unexpected mercy. “Thank you.”

He gave a curt nod, dipping his head to the space next to him. “Sleep.”

You obeyed, wondering if you could sleep next to him, even if he had shown you some degree of kindness. It still didn’t erase his bloody reputation, and it worried you to no end that you would be sleeping next to a killer. Born to fight his way to power and rule over his kind. 

You took a deep breath, holding tight to the sheet, and closing your eyes. Perhaps it was the roller coaster of emotions weighing down on you from the day’s events, but you did manage to find sleep, even if it was troubled. Nightmares of wolves following you through the woods, red irises piercing you from the shelter of the trees, and claws slicing through flesh. 

You gasped when your eyes sprung open against an onslaught of bright, morning light, heart palpitating in your chest when you met those same eyes looking down at you from above. Chan was a step ahead of you as if he could predict your movements, grabbing your hands in one of his own to hold them above your head. One of his powerful thighs slung across your lower body, holding you in place with a strength that ignited a fire of burning adrenaline. 

“Hold still,” he said, giving you no other warning before teeth sank into the side of your neck, and your body panicked, fighting against him. Like he might take a chunk out of your neck and leave you on the bed to bleed out. Crimson against the cream-colored sheets. 

Immediately, a pulsating shock erupted from the site of the wound, forcing a scream from between your lips at the overwhelming pain. “I know,” he said, and it was barely discernible over the sounds of your cries, unashamed to lose all inhibitions at the sensation of a pain you had never experienced before.

The Wolf King moved over top of you, and you flinched when you felt his tongue start to lap at the painful bite mark on your shoulder. “The pain will stop soon,” he said. “I’m sorry you have to suffer.”

You held back a whine, digging your nails into the soft flesh of your palms. You supposed he had helped the sting, but it still felt like a piece of glass was being sliced across your skin. Even if the guilt and remorse in his gaze were almost enough to distract you.

“Relax,” he soothed, releasing your hands which instinctively went to wipe at your eyes, drying the salty wetness that had accumulated. 

“I- I can’t...”

“You can because you are mine now,” he declared in a tone that had a different flame sparking in your chest. 

You nodded against the pain, focusing on taking deep breaths, and letting darkness take you under once more.

When you woke again, the King was ready for you. He explained that you were needed in the Throne Room to meet some important people. It turned out that the King had three brothers. They were all younger than him. Or so you had been told.

Their names were Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin. Feared and revered for their triumphs in battle.

Your Wolf King seemed proud to show them off, standing before you in an organized line: from oldest to youngest.

Felix reminded you of your own cousins, with his lithe figure, so much different from the King’s own bulk, and a head of flaming orange-red hair. 

Next to him, in the middle, stood Seungmin. Dressed in dark clothes that only made his already dark hair even more onyx-black. Bright green eyes appraising you slowly.

Finally, there was Jeongin. The tallest of the three. And sporting the same dark-colored hair as his middle brother. He seemed to be the most innocent, eyes wide with wonder.

“They are here to support you,” Chan went on after introductions had passed. “Call on them if you need any help.”

Unlikely, but you forced a nod nonetheless.

“You are dismissed,” Chan informed them after you gave your acquiescence, and you watched them retreat in the same formation down the hall.

In their stead approached a shorter man, dressed in full battle attire. Well-muscled to stretch the fabric of his shirt and pants, with serious dark eyes. “My King,” the man said, bowing once. “You are needed on the training fields.”

You flinched when the man’s eyes found your neck, likely noting the swollen mess that Chan had left behind. “I’ll be there shortly, Changbin,” Chan said, and he waited until the man was gone before looking at you. “The Castle is yours, my Queen. Feel free to look around and acquaint yourself with your new home.”

“I will,” you whispered, forcing yourself to stay still when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“Tonight, we can eat together,” came his parting words, and you grimaced at the idea of sharing a meal with him. 

But the concept of sharing a meal with him was nowhere near as horrible as the idea that this place could ever be considered your home. What a nasty thought! This place was nothing more than a prison forced upon you because your parents were desperate for Chan’s allegiance.

“Why did he agree?” you huffed to yourself, spinning on your heel to start the trek back to your room—as much as you could remember. “Leaving me here as if I know where anything is!”

For months leading up to your shared nuptials, you had pondered the reason why the powerful Wolf King had even agreed to marry you in the first place. Neither of your meetings had been particularly impactful, and your Kingdom had nothing to benefit his own; in fact, your alliance was more of a detriment to Chan and his people—a burden that he willingly took on.

You turned the corner to the last corridor, grateful that you had managed to retrace your steps, faltering when you noticed something on the floor outside of your door. You kneeled to retrieve it, glancing at the writing and noting with a happy hum that it was addressed from the Northern Highlands!

“Grace!” you exclaimed, clutching the envelope to your chest as you quickly rushed inside your room, glancing back to ensure the door was locked before hopping onto the bed to rip the contents open.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on your marriage to Bang Chan - it will be a strong alliance for our parents and their Kingdom. 

I apologize for my absence - Hyunjin was unable to make the accommodations.

As you know, snowfall comes to the Highlands in the upcoming months. It will soon be impossible for me to journey to you, or for you to make the journey here. I’d love to see you and your new husband before it is difficult to do so.

Please write to me when you can to arrange a visit.

Lovingly,

Grace

You read over the letter twice before releasing a deep sigh. Would your Wolf King even indulge in such a trip? Perhaps it wasn’t even necessary for him to go. You could make the trip on your own.

You held fast to that thought, of getting away from your prison even if only for a few days, as you lounged around in your room for the remainder of the day. There was little to entertain yourself with, re-reading Grace’s letter over and over again, and sitting outside on the little veranda attached to your room to watch the clouds moving in the sky.

It would be another mercy to escape Chan’s presence if you were to head North alone, but you were afraid that you were pushing your luck, wincing when you heard the door to your chambers opening again, returning inside from your observation of the grounds to greet Chan as you were expected to do.

“My queen,” he rumbled, reaching out to hold your shoulders between both hands, a grip that was impossible to mistake. “Were you able to see more of the Castle?”

“Yes,” you lied through clenched teeth, only breathing a little easier when he released you, eyes dropping to the letter in your hands.

“What is that?”

“It is from my sister,” you explained. 

“I see.”

“She wasn’t able to attend the wedding,” you went on, saving yourself a bit of time as you scrambled for the best way to drop the news to him. Maybe it would just be best to try a blunt approach, giving him your demands since he insisted on calling you an equal. “I wish to see my sister,” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Before it is too dangerous to make the trip to the Northern Highlands.”

Chan grunted at your request, and you weren’t well-versed in his language to know what that meant. “She invited you?”

“I can go alone,” you said. “If it is too much for you.”

“I would love to come with you,” he said, disregarding the determination in your tone. “It will give us more time to spend together on our own.”

“Oh.” Your gaze remained trained on the floor, hopes dashed that you could leave him behind. 

“It will be nice to visit there,” he said. “I will make the arrangements. You may write her back to expect us very soon.”

“As you wish,” you sighed, trying to keep the disappointment from your tone, flinching when he grabbed one of your wrists. He didn’t seem perturbed by your reaction, and you watched as he pulled a delicate piece of jewelry from his pocket.

“Well?” he smiled, something that made you shiver. “What do you think?”

“What is it?” you asked in return, resisting the urge to pull back the wrist clasped between his scarred fingers. Even if you did manage to finally meet his gaze.

“It is a gift for you,” Chan said with a smile you were not expecting—blinding and warm. “I made it myself.”

“You made this?”

“As our traditions dictate,” he agreed, keeping a firm hold on your wrist to clasp the little bracelet around your delicate flesh. “It is meant to show our bond to the world.”

You studied it curiously, noting the simple design and the small wolf-shaped carvings engraved in the metal. It was cold against your skin, even as the heat from his body balanced it out.

“Shall we eat?”

He dropped your wrist, and you were able to gather your bearings. “Of course.” You managed a nod, watching as he opened the door wide, allowing a small servant girl to enter the room.

The girl offered you both a respectful bow before she started to set the table, laying out silverware and fine china plates. Behind her, another girl rolled in a cart, wheels squealing on the floor, with prepared food steaming from beneath metal lids. 

“Here, sit with me,” Chan said, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Until they are ready.”

You obeyed, sitting down next to him. Your gaze remained trained on the servant girls, moving about in a well-rehearsed manner as if they had done this too many times to count. 

He reached for your hand, and you did your best not to flinch. “Look,” he whispered, urging you to follow his gaze. “This line on your hand, do you see the way it moves?”

You shivered as he traced the mark he referred to, following it up and down the length of your palm. “Yes,” you whispered, struck by the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.

Goosebumps followed the trail he left on your wrist, and you held your breath when he brought it to his lips. “The same as mine,” he said, almost reverently. Your eyes widened, breath hitching as he aligned your hands together. “A perfect match.”

You could hardly believe it, eyes searching back and forth, but seeing the same line digging into both of your skin. Like it belonged there. 

“There are reasons for everything,” he said, and you felt a small flicker of shame when you read his knowing gaze as if he could sense those dark thoughts that you sheltered about him—wondering why you out of everyone in the world had been chosen to stand at his side. “I wouldn’t question so much,” he continued. “The things that fall into place so perfectly.”

He offered you a wink, surprisingly playful for a man of his reputation. “Let’s eat.”

You nodded, the most you could, and followed him to the table. He was polite as always, allowing you to pick first, waiting until your first bite before claiming his own. You were content, at that moment, to answer the questions he threw your way, increasingly aware of the way the place he had touched warming and the mark on your neck drummed in a gentle pulse.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, and there was less trepidation in your soul when you lay with Chan to sleep. 

You journeyed to the Highlands the next morning, riding behind Chan on horseback, leaving the Wolves’ imposing Castle behind. There was a lightness about you as distance added more miles to your ride, growing brighter and brighter the further you traveled. Even with light conversation petering between you and Chan, you had never been freer in your entire life, the wind blowing back your hair as you soared across the plains.

Despite his repeated requests for you to take a break, you were determined to make it to your sister’s palace before nightfall. You wanted to see her outside, in the meadows that spread invitingly across the Highlands, and walk together just the two of you as you did as children.

There was excitement spiking hot adrenaline in your veins when the hills opened up in the distance, revealing a gorgeous mountain Castle with imposing towers and the familiar flags of your sister’s powerful family. She belonged to Hyunjin, taking his name and crest, and it made you sad to realize that there was a greater distance between you both. You loosened your grip on Chan’s waist, not realizing your grip on him.

You had grown tired of being around him, constantly blinded by the weight of his shadow. At least out here, with the sun beaming down from above, you could feel great relief from the pressure lightening. Perhaps there should be shame associated with your actions, but as soon as you could identify a familiar shape up ahead, you were already leaping from the horse despite Chan’s protests.

Thankfully, your sister was there to greet you, surrounded by two guards. Immediately, you jumped from your steed, falling into her arms and inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. “Grace,” you squealed, keeping her held tight to you as if it would be the last time you could ever do so. 

“Y/N,” she sing-songed back, and you smiled at her playful attitude, only growing a little despondent when you detected Chan’s approach from behind.

“Hello,” she greeted Chan with a polite bow. “It is an honor to welcome you to the Northern Highlands.”

“Your palace is beautiful,” Chan complimented, and you shivered when he drew fingers down the length of your spine—a show of affection that you would never get used to experiencing.

“Thank you,” she said, turning around to gaze back at it as if she were seeing it for the first time. “It has centuries of history.”

“I have heard the tales,” Chan remarked. “From when I was a boy.”

You tried not to snort, not wanting to relive any memories of Chan from his boyhood. Grace’s careful eyes, however, seemed to detect something, and she looked at you with a curious gaze. “Well, I can show you to your quarters.”

“No need, I’m sure one of your guards will know the way. I think Y/N has been waiting for some time with you. I’ll leave you both alone,” he said, even without your prompting, and your sister gave you a familiar smile.

“As you wish,” she said with a little curtsy, beckoning a guard forward with stern orders to help the Wolf King settle in while you and Grace took a stroll of the grounds.

You held your breath, not wanting your impatience to show as the arrangements were made. Only once Chan had started in the direction of the Castle, guards following him closely, did you exhale. Reaching for Grace’s hand, and tugging her forward.

“No need to drag me!” Grace chuckled at your actions, and she linked your arms together, steering you toward the familiar meadows.

You both settled into easy conversation as it always seemed to happen, topics flowing from one to another. There was a lot to catch up on, things left unsaid from your sad exchange of letters. Rumors swirling around the highlands, and stories from your own homeland that you consumed greedily, excited for any mention of your little Kingdom.

Even if you didn’t really belong to it anymore.

You wanted to walk forever, to keep going beyond the highlands. Escaping to a distant land with just you and Grace. A place where you could both live in peace and go about your days just chatting and reading together by the fireplace as you did when you were children.

She laughed at your complaints, forcing you to return to the Castle when the sun had started to set. Thankfully, you didn’t go all the way inside just yet, and the two of you sat down at one of the picnic tables in the gardens. As you settled next to Grace, bowing politely to the maids who brought you both a cup of tea, you frowned as you recognized Chan between the hedges, strolling along with Hyunjin, Grace’s King, down the trodden paths between the mazes. 

You did your best to ignore him, focusing instead on the moment you had with your sister. The setting sun was warm as you reclined your head, eyes closed as you accepted the gracious touch—burning just as hot as your sister’s intense stare.

“Do you have something to say?” you huffed. “I can feel you looking at me.”

Her smile was clear in her tone. “You just seem...different.”

“How so?”

“Like you’ve been tamed.”

Your eyes flew open at the comment, glaring at her. “Stuck in an arranged marriage, you mean?”

“Mine was arranged as well, but you can rest assured that I don’t take the same comfort from my particular suitor.”

“I hardly take comfort from the Wolf King,” you argued, but Grace simply shrugged.

“You’ve never seen things as I do.”

“What’s so bad about Hyunjin anyway?” you asked instead, to direct the conversation away from Chan,

Her smile curdled. “He keeps busy with his whores,” she said, shocking you with such an accusation.

“Grace-”

“Don’t.” Your sister sighed. “There’s nothing you can do.”

She attempted to restore her previous smile, looking back over your shoulder with a sigh. “I like your Wolf King,” she eventually said. “He cares about you a lot. I haven’t seen him take his eyes away from you once.”

Grace must be imagining things. “He’s tolerable at best,” you decided, earning yourself a sigh from your sister.

“My how your perspective has changed,” she remarked, finally turning her attention to the lukewarm tea in front of her. “You were kicking and screaming when you first learned of the marriage.”

“It is something that was forced on me!”

“But you’re not the only one, Y/N,” Grace said with a tone filled with sadness.

Suddenly, you felt chastened and guilty for even protesting her. “For us both, it has created nothing but discomfort.”

“I think there is potential in your match,” Grace argued. “You resist because you are stubborn in nature, but I think there could be good things for you if you just tried to make it work. Wouldn’t it be better, sister, to live with him as lovers than as cold strangers?”

“He is too wild for marriage,” you weakly protested. But your argument held no merit, and you hated the logic in her words, turning away to glare into the distance.

Night passed before your eyes, like the dimmest flicker, and you had never been more unhappy to greet the rising sun. 

It seemed that all good things inevitably came to an end, and you were holding back tears when you parted from Grace the next morning, holding the embrace for far too long. Even as you allowed Chan to help you back onto the horse, positioned directly behind him on the saddle, you kept your gaze trained behind you, watching Grace grow smaller and smaller.

Until she was gone.

Your heart was heavy when you returned to Chan’s castle that same afternoon, but your foul mood didn’t last for long. Distracted as you were, surprised by the bustling activities throughout the grounds, everyone scrambling for something you couldn’t identify. “Our moon festival,” Chan explained. “We will be shifting tonight.”

Oh, right. You had forgotten about that part, too distraught reminiscing on your brief moment of freedom with Grace. “I almost forgot.”

“There will be a feast tonight,” he explained. “We will both join as King and Queen.”

You scowled at the idea. “As you wish.”

Chan frowned at the comment. “You must be tired from the journey,” he continued, choosing not to react to your passive comment. “Feel free to rest in our quarters. I will come get you later.”

You agreed with a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment. Sleep did sound like a much-needed relief from the exhaustion threatening each unsteady step you took up the stairs. It was what you blamed your disorientation on, barely noticing when Chan leaned in to give you a chaste kiss on your cheek.

That same spot burned under the barely-there attention. But you chose to ignore it, instead focusing on how your feet were throbbing when you landed on top of your bed with a huff, allowing tears to escape as you gave yourself a moment to purge the nasty emotions that had built after leaving the Highlands. Unable to do so as you rode behind Chan.

There were too many different emotions piled on throughout the day, mixing with a heady combination of your exhaustion from traveling. Countless thoughts also swirled through your head, and it was inevitable that you would fall under, losing yourself to the easy promise of sleep. An easier task than grappling with your conflicted feelings. 

Darkness greeted you like an old friend, and your dreams were wild. One moment you were back with Grace, strolling through the meadows. The next, you found yourself in an empty forest, shadows chasing each breath evaporating on cold air, ensnared by a pair of red eyes in the thick foliage.

You stumbled on the undergrowth, falling backward ungracefully. You only had the wherewithal to put a hand over your face, trying to block everything out, as those eyes descended on you. Fear caught in your throat, and it was the lasting image that haunted you as you jerked upright in bed, barely withholding a scream when those same eyes met you in the real world.

“Y/N.”

Chan’s voice was deep, guttural in its intensity, and filled with concern. You flinched when fingers came out to gently remove sweaty bangs from your eyes, heart thunderous inside your chest. His hand paused in its motions, and for a fleeting second, you thought you might drown in his stare.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Bad dreams.”

“I see.”

There was a question in his tone, but you didn’t know how to provide an answer, choosing instead to gently push his hand away. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

He nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth. “If you’re certain...”

You studied him for a moment, wishing that you could confide in him. But there was still a great distance between you, perhaps put there by your own accord, but heavy in its existence. “I shall get ready.”

Chan allowed you the space, agreeing to meet you in the hallway as you rose to get dressed, finding the dress that had been laid out for you by the maids. You slipped the fabric over your body, shivering as the silkiness slid across your skin like a lover’s caress.

True to his word, Chan was waiting patiently on the other side of the door, and you hesitated before taking the outstretched hand offered to you. Unprepared for when it pulled you in closer, under the scrutiny of his affectionate gaze. “Beautiful,” he declared, nostrils flaring as if taking in the scent of the perfume you sprayed. 

“Thank you,” you offered in return, choosing to keep silent as he led the way, helping you down the stairs in your heels. 

For once, you willingly stayed close to Chan, especially as you approached the Great Hall where the festivities would take place. Chan led you into the dining room, perhaps a bit too hastily, uneasy with the weight of his people’s stares boring down upon your figure. Dressed simply in that white gown—pure, as you had always remained—and looking entirely out of place amongst battle-hardened soldiers. 

You caught Changbin’s stare from across the room as you sat at the head of the table next to the King. There was lust in his gaze. And it deeply unsettled you, to the point that even Chan caught your shiver.

He followed your gaze to Changbin who looked away at once. “Tradition says that the King can share his mate,” Chan whispered. “But I will not share you with him. So he can only look.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything in return. “I didn’t know.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Chan stood, addressing the room. “Let’s feast together, comrades! We run together at the moon’s highest cycle!”

A chorus of cheers and howls greeted his words, and everyone started to fill their plates, easy conversation flowing between the wolves like the smell of the delicious-looking platters laid out before you. Still, your stomach revolted, swimming in circles as you picked at the helping Chan had served you. You wrinkled your nose when his grease-stained fingers brought a piece of chicken to your lips, and you forced yourself to take it from him. 

Chan sighed as you chewed, forcing the morsel down your throat as it stung. “I won’t be with you tonight, of course. We will likely stay out in the moonlight until dawn. But I will return in the morning.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, seemingly indifferent. Some time to yourself seemed nice. And you weren’t keen on being outside when they were no longer human. 

“You don’t have to be miserable here, my Queen,” Chan suddenly said, tone taking on a hardened edge. Perhaps the first time he had ever sounded stern with you. “Wolves mate for life, and they choose their partners seriously”

You contemplated his words, chosen ever so carefully. “I - I will try,” you managed, recalling Grace’s advice from the previous day.

To live as lovers rather than strangers. 

He hummed at your agreement, eyes glued to your form as he appraised you with something akin to curiosity. “Don’t roam so far from the castle tonight. It isn’t dangerous, but it is your first time. Of course, there’s usually nothing to fear in the gardens.”

There was a layered hint in his words, but you chose not to think about it too much, simply nodding your head as you resumed your task of picking at your food. There was nothing wrong with the offering in front of you, but your newfound uneasiness mixed with your emotional charge from earlier—it had not yet completely dispelled itself from your system—left an unpleasant ache in your chest.

As if something was missing…

Later that night, long after the wolves left the castle, you realized you couldn’t sleep even if you tried, listening to the chorus of howls from outside the castle walls. They rang through the night, loud and clear, and harmonized with one another as if perfectly in sync. Perhaps they were since Chan and his wolves shared a tight bond, and you wondered what it must be like to be so perfectly in tune with one another.

It was these thoughts that plagued you, and even as midnight came and went, you grew more restless. You resolved to walk through the castle, to quell your thoughts and ease your mind. Even as your footsteps echoed through the halls, you found yourself becoming more awake instead of the opposite effect.

Fresh air would be nice, you thought until you remembered the wolves outside. But then again, Chan did promise you that the gardens would be safe. You could trust him, right? Or was that the problem? Your lack of trust in someone meant to be your partner. 

You resolved yourself in that moment to try. And if that meant venturing out into the gardens, then no one could accuse you of being silent and passive. This was your attempt at trying, and if it ended badly, then you would have all the more leverage to ignore him.

However, despite your attempts to steel your resolve, you found your heart beating impossibly fast when you greeted the moonlight outside. Each lungful of air that you forced down your lungs felt like sharp knives attacking your flesh. Gaze swimming in front of you, footsteps unsteady as you entered the hedge maze surrounding the gardens.

You inhaled deeply, trying to find comfort in the familiar smell of the foliage. There was a strange air of peace surrounding you, and that was all the solace you needed to keep going, admiring the way the colors of the blooming flowers bled in a different light. It was easy to grow distracted by the sight, as beautiful as it was, and perhaps you could blame your wandering eye for failing to adequately identify the rustling of something large in the undergrowth of the forest. 

You hummed to yourself, leaning down to run your fingers over the soft petals of a rose. Its usual red was subdued somehow, under the moon’s glow, and you smiled at the effect, completely ignorant of a different red seeping through the hedges near your right.

It wasn’t until a gentle whimper sounded that you jerked to a stop, hand fluttering to cover your chest as you whipped around to locate the source of the sound. And what stood before you, as powerful as the looming mountains above the castle, nearly had you falling to your knees.

Except, you realized upon a second cursory glance, that there was something uncannily familiar about the beast in front of you, and it only took you another moment to make the connection. A gasp fell from your lips when you realized that it was the wolf from your childhood—the one you had found that day Chan visited your home for the second time. The one you played with in the gardens. The one you spent time with just talking and believing it was nothing more than a common wolf.

You stumbled then, recognizing the now familiar crimson eyes looking back at you—the same ones that belonged to your husband. The wolf, your Wolf King, butted his giant head against your outstretched hand, giving an affectionate lick to your fingertips.

“I understand,” you whispered, unable to decipher the emotion in your voice, but one thing that you knew for certain—there was a clear absence of fear. Because you had never feared this wolf, always approaching it with happiness, completely ignorant of its true state. 

The wolf gave you a meaningful look, and you were struck by the humanness of the gesture. Understanding dawned on you—Chan had always known. He had always known it was you—the one his wolf had chosen. The girl who had never shown fear to a beast that others considered a monster. 

You had known Chan for your entire life without even realizing it, and your eyes welled with tears, watching him toss back his head and release a spine-curdling howl. One that was joined by a chorus of beautiful melodic cries, merging and joining together, and reaching down to your very bones.

You dropped to your knees then—a mere speck before the Wolf. You cried without fear, and this time, the tension between you and your King vanished like the stars in the night sky when dawn cracked across the horizon.

Three Months Later

On most mornings, Chan was gone before you woke up, and that left you with a disconcerting feeling of disappointment. You supposed there was much to do for the King of the Castle, but lately, it made you ache for something you couldn’t quite discern.

For the past several months, you found yourself opening up to the Wolf King in ways you would’ve never imagined. The truth of who he was, the Wolf from your childhood, along with Grace’s well-intentioned advice, had managed to crack through the stoic guard you had raised from the moment you bound yourself to him.

He taught you about the bond—how, even if you weren’t a Wolf and couldn’t experience the same emotions, he could feel each flicker of happiness or stroke of sadness as it moved through you. 

You had not known of this connection before—because of your stubborn nature—and you would always regret resisting it. But things were better, and you could see the beauty in the bond and how truly spectacular it was to feel and understand another person so intimately. It made you wonder—for longer and longer periods of time—just how deep you could make that bond.

Curiosity weighed heavy on you, and your eyes cracked open at a gentle knocking on the door—an opportunity presenting itself when you recognized a familiar servant girl entering your room. “Good morning, Y/N,” she said, and you nodded in return.

At first, you had kept yourself closed off to the other maids, but this one in particular, Ivy, had been insistent. It was hard to deny her, especially when she became your best teacher, indulging you in learning everything related to the wolves and their way of life.

She was also quite willing and open to help you with anything, even if it involved the more intimate parts of your relationship with the Wolf King. You brought it up again that morning, growing more and more confident, especially since Ivy was completely shameless when it came to that sort of thing.

“I thought about your words from the other night,” you opened the conversation, watching as she put your breakfast down onto the table.

“You’ll have to remind me.” There was a teasing note in her tone, and you glowered at the playful look she shot in your direction.

“We spoke about the King,” you said. “You told me things…what I can do to please him.”

“I remember.” She took a step closer, and you were wary of the look in her eyes. “Does he not fuck you well?” Ivy asked, and her tone was absent of the same filter that would stop your tongue.

Still, you were embarrassed, looking down at your feet, wondering how to disguise the truth. “It doesn’t feel good when it seems like he just uses me to get himself off.”

That much was true as you had heard Chan masturbating next to you on countless nights, and your name often fell free from his lips.

“I see.” Ivy nodded. “He doesn’t know better. He was taught that a good alpha fucks his mate and makes sure that she is pregnant for him.”

You winced at her blunt explanation. “Is that all...wolves need?”

“Not necessarily,” Ivy said with a bright smile. “I can teach you...if you want.”

“Teach me?” you asked, gasping when Ivy placed a hand on your chest, forcing you to fall back on the bed.

She was all smiles when she crawled into your lap, grabbing your hands and securing them to her waist. You gasped when she started rocking her hips into your own, feeling the pleasant ache resonate up and down your spine. “The most important lesson of them all,” Ivy said with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “The art of seduction.”

“I - Ivy...”

“Tell me, Y/N,” Ivy interrupted your ramblings, leaning down so that the tips of your noses brushed together. “Would you like that? Seducing your wolf? Driving him to the point where he can’t resist taking you?”

You moaned around your response. “Yes! Please show me.”

Her hips rocked harder into yours, and you could see white forming at the edges of your vision. “Leave it to me.”

And you did, surrendering to her touches, and the wicked way she showed you all the ways to drive a King mad. 

The following night, you bravely waited for your Wolf King to return from patrol, wearing nothing but a sheer robe that left little to the imagination. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you caught each breath as it rattled between your lungs. Nervousness eating away at your resolve and leaving the poor skin around your cuticles abused by your touch. 

Ivy’s advice rang clear in your mind as if she were there with you, holding your hands between her own as she taught you how to please the King. You blushed at the memory, hands covering the bare skin beneath your robe, caressing the delicate flesh as she had done the night before. Demonstrating to you the best ways to please a man, and to make him beg for you. 

That kind of power held its curious appeal, and you thought about it constantly. Wondering what it would be like to make Chan lose his mind to the sin of your smell and touch. You could hardly wait, bouncing your leg and jostling the flimsy material of your coverings. 

Thankfully, your Wolf King didn’t make you wait for very long, punctual as always in these recent times of peace in joining you during the evenings. The easy smile he always offered you vanished as soon as he closed the door behind him, eyes locked on your figure clad in so very little.

“Be assertive.” You recalled Ivy’s words, and you stood on shaky legs to take a few tentative steps towards him. The implication was not lost in translation. You could barely get out a greeting before Chan was on you in seconds, gently pushing you back against the wall. He pressed his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, initiating the first indulgent kiss that lit a fire that you felt down to the tips of your toes.

“Then have me,” you said against the purse of his mouth, tongue tracing that full bottom lip. His gaze widened perceptibly, holding you at arm's length.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me the way you want,” you replied. “I’m ready. You love me, don’t you?”

The intensity in that gaze you had started to yearn for burned even brighter. “You know that I love you Y/N, and I understand why it would be hard for you to believe. I’m more than willing to take this chance to show you.”

He pulled away despite the tight grip you kept on his powerful bicep. Even so, you kept your eyes open as wide as possible to enjoy the scene playing out in front of you when he kissed you again. You curled your fingers into his thick black hair, remembering Ivy’s advice, and pulled his mouth against yours, crushing your lips to his. Chan’s chest rumbled as he kissed you fiercely in return, grabbing onto your arms as his tongue plundered the hot cavern of your mouth.   

Your lungs screamed in protest, and you pulled away suddenly, shivering at his resounding whimper. You opened your eyes, keeping your hands in his hair to hold it back from his crimson orbs. You found the lust there, making his eyes appear darker.  “It’s so hard for me to do this,” you said softly. “I- I want to please you…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chan replied. He pressed his hips into yours and you felt something hard against your stomach. “Y/N,” Chan murmured, leaning into your neck to inhale deeply. “I want you more than anything else.”

You shivered as you felt his other hand come to the sleeve of your gown, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingertips slid across your skin, weakening your resolve. His lips followed his touch, peppering soft kisses along the exposed skin. He tugged on the fabric more and you felt the fabric at your right breast start to fall, slowly exposing the flesh to him. His blazing eyes looked down at what he had uncovered, as his hand moved up to hold your breast in his palm. You moaned when his thumb started to rub against your nipple, growing alarmed at the sudden ache between your legs. Like before, his lips soon replaced his fingers and you cried out when he gently nipped the sensitive skin.  

He suddenly tugged the fabric back up, releasing your wrists so that he could have both hands when he grabbed the sides of your robe and tugged it aside to reveal your bare skin to him. Your hands fell to your sides as your chest heaved up and down to match each of your panting breaths. Clad in the lingerie Ivy had helped you pick out the previous night. 

Chan’s eyes were glued to your bare torso. With a moan of his own, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he trailed his mouth down, over the soft skin of your throat, down your chest, and between the valley of your breasts, over your smooth stomach down to the top of your lace panties. Looking up at you with hungry, lust-filled eyes, Chan started to tug the fabric down your legs.

Clenching your fists against the wall, you couldn’t begin to describe what you felt when he pressed a kiss against the front of your panties, holding your thighs in his strong hands. Standing back up to his full height, he pulled his shirt off next, tossing it onto the floor. You breathed out deeply as your eyes greedily took in the sight of his muscled torso. Timidly, you reached out a hand, aware of his eyes watching your movements as you hovered your palm over his firm abdomen. “Touch him with your fingertips,” Ivy’s words whispered against your ear. He groaned, bracing his arms on either side of you, moving his head against the wall next to your ear. You heard Chan’s husky voice whisper: “Baby, please touch me.”

Your eyes fluttered at his request, and you placed both palms on his hard stomach, moving them up and feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. Your hands danced across his pectorals, rising along with the muscles. You moved your palms over his shoulders and then back down, pausing when you hit the top of his pants. Before you could muster up the courage to move any lower, Chan’s lips were back on yours, kissing you senseless. You wrapped your arms around his neck, working your mouth against his, feeling your lips become swollen from his kisses. As your tongues touched, you felt Chan’s hands return to your thighs, lifting them so that you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his trim waist. Holding you against him, he carried you into over to the bed to deposit you on top. You missed his warmth as soon as he was gone and opened your eyes to meet his black gaze.

This was your chance. You remembered Ivy’s words and scrambled to get in position. Present. The command burned its way through your whole being as if you had no control over it. Instead, you turned on your hands and knees, arching your back and keeping your ass held high in the air.

You had never done this before, and you felt so exposed, but at the same time so good, so right, and you restrained yourself from trying to cover up against the shameless crimson stare watching you.

Suddenly, all went quiet, prompting you to glance over your shoulder. The Wolf King was staring at your ass, his mouth slightly agape. “Good girl,” was all you heard before Chan dove down abruptly to taste your dripping cunt, dragging his tongue all the way up to the source of the wetness leaking from you with a single, hot swipe, before latching on and sucking eagerly at the sensitive skin around your opening. 

You keened at the sensation and shivered at his satisfied grunts and moans as he took his fill of your taste. It made you want to please him. To do whatever it took to make him completely lose his mind.

“Chan!” You moaned out, reaching beneath him to flick at your neglected clit. “More!” 

Your demand did not go unanswered. With a grunt, Chan yanked your ass up higher for a better angle, digging his hands into the plush flesh of your hips. His touch was rough, and strong, undoubtedly leaving marks behind, but you absolutely loved it. And when the wiggling muscle of his tongue finally pushed inside, you cried out in absolute bliss and pleasure. Time itself seemed to slow down as that tongue relentlessly moved inside you, searching for that spot that could make you see stars and, once found, pressing down hard. Again and again, Chan dipped inside with his tongue, and each time you moaned for him. It didn’t take you long until your body tensed and shuddered, squeezing around the intrusion as you rode out your orgasm. 

With a satisfied groan, Chan released your hips, and you collapsed on your stomach, still aching for him.

You attempted to look back at Chan, groaning when you realized he was pushing down his pants and underwear, freeing his stiffening cock before crawling back over you. You were met with a flurry of kisses, on your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, before his tongue trailed lazily over your chest and down to the delicate curls damp from your release. 

You squirmed under him as he held himself up on his arms, dragging his eyes unbearably slow from your face and down to your toes. He moved one finger down over your stomach, and you watched it enter the forest of blonde curls around your center. Panting, and nearing combustion, you found yourself instinctively thrusting your hips up, begging him for more than just touches. Growling, he practically shoved your hips back to the bed, reaching down and jerking his thick cock with rough strokes. He abruptly flipped you over onto your back, craning his neck to look down into your eyes. “Let me make love to you, Y/N.”

His words sent a flurry of heat straight to your core. You had never had sex before, but you wanted it desperately. You told him as much and could see him visibly shaking. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing your lips tenderly, before reaching down to line himself up at your entrance. You closed your eyes and winced as he pushed into you. Pliant and soft from his earlier ministrations, the bulbous head found little resistance as it breached your cunt.

You could feel his face bury itself into your shoulder, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the bedding, as if it was taking everything he had to go this slow. Once he was buried inside of you completely, you groaned, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. You could feel him still above you, and his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” he growled. “It’s taking every ounce of control I have not to flip you over and fuck you senseless.”

His words, as crude as they were, only served to heighten your arousal. “Move,” you said, grabbing his black hair and pulling his face to yours. You kissed him quickly. “I’m fine.”

He needed no further encouragement, as he slowly pulled out before pushing back in. You could see the sweat breaking out across his forehead from the exertion, causing strands of his hair to stick to his forehead. His right hand moved behind you to grip the headboard as his hips slowly rocked against your own. As good as it felt, you could see he was about to lose it. “Faster,” you told him, and he complied, speeding up his thrusts and allowing some of the tension to escape his body. It was a little painful, especially when he let out a low growl and really started grinding his hips.

You could feel it building inside, the pleasure of his rough movements far outweighing the discomfort. You let out another moan as he moved in and out, feeling the smooth friction all the way to the tips of your toes. The Wolf King chose this moment to draw his hips back, dragging his length out to the tip, before slamming it back inside with a powerful thrust, rocking your body to the point that you felt your vision turn white for a moment. Without giving you time to recover, Chan repeated the motion over and over again, speeding up and adjusting the angle to relentlessly hit deep inside, hips bumping your clit with every smooth grind.

He grunted from his efforts, one hand on the headboard while the other came to grab your breast, his lips sucking at your neck. For your part, you arched your back against him, allowing your hips to come up a little to meet his movements as he hit even deeper inside of you, just barely kissing your cervix. Your fingernails scraped down the smooth skin of his back at this new angle. He moaned when your nails dug into his flesh, bringing his lips up to yours and you kissed him feverishly, tasting him like your life depended on it. One of your hands curled into his smooth black hair while the other gripped his bicep tightly, sighing happily as you felt the muscles move.  

You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to not feel overwhelmed by all of the things he was making you feel. Buried deep inside of you, you could feel him hit all the right spots, sending waves of pleasure to your tight center. Meanwhile, his lips were working magic against yours, leaving you breathless.  

You could feel an intimate warmth building inside of you the longer he snapped his hips against yours. Groaning, you let out a cry as you felt something inside of you break open, releasing wave after wave of heat through your core, leaving your body drowning in pleasure.  

There was a haze of lightheadedness clogging your senses, and you almost didn’t even realize the swell pushing against your ass, until it breached your core. “Chan!” you hissed at the combination of pain and overwhelming pressure, retreating and then swelling again as he ground that hot mass against you.

“My knot,” he groaned, and you could feel the heat from his chest against your breasts as he pressed even closer. 

You vaguely recalled Ivy warning you about this, telling you that it would be hard to prepare for the massive instrution. You felt a spike of fear as it stretched you even further, and you worried that your virgin body would suffer. All you could do was grit your teeth and bury your head into the blankets beneath you, feeling the swell of his knot pressed against the cleft of your ass. You fisted the sheets between your hands. He would split you in half, and then you would be nothing.

“Y/N!” he growled, slowing his hips to a timid roll as his knot locked between you both, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt his release flood your insides, filling you to the point that your lower stomach had started to swell from his cum. 

He groaned as you both came down from your highs, and you gently petted your finger through his unruly curls. He experimentally rolled his hips to test how firmly the knot was locking him inside and it wouldn’t budge. Your cunt squeezed the knot, eliciting another grunt from Chan, another twitch, and another spurt of hot cum inside of you.

The pop didn’t swell until Chan was fully seated, his thick cock barely able to seat itself fully between your pulsating walls. It was a painful stretch, of course, but you were hardly focused on it.

Chan continued to hump against you, long after his release and teetering on the cusp of oversensitivity, but those seductive hips had lost their rhythm. It was only moments later, as Chan pulled away from your lips and buried his face into your chest, that he growled when something warm filled your center. You let your hand wander down his spine, stroking along the individuals knots. You could feel him breathing hard above you, and you tried to soothe him back to normal.

You were locked together for a long time, and you were almost asleep when Chan was finally able to pull out, collapsing onto the mattress next to you, looking up at the ceiling. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly until you could barely see it move at all, signifying his return from his high. Your own breaths came out much shorter, and you were aware of the sweat that coated your skin. 

You watched as Chan ran his hand through his dark hair, moving it out of his face. Looking over at you, he turned on his side and used one hand to bring you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist. You hummed in delight as your chests pressed together, moving in sync with each other. Chan’s eyes scanned over your face as he leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I love you Y/N,” he said. voice rumbling. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You were barely coherent, collapsed against the sheets with a line of drool pooling out from your mouth. Closing your eyes, you let your head fall against his chest, savoring his warmth.  “I trust you,” you said softly, and you could feel him sigh in relief. Simply holding you against him, surrounded by his warmth, you suddenly felt very much like you belonged.

“You and I have always been destined,” Chan whispered, and for the first time since you had taken your place as his Wolf Queen, you weren’t afraid.

Instead, you were irrevocably alive.

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Blurb 2: Too Fast

I'M ALIVE! Thank you all for your patience :) I've had so many big life changes in the last four months (and in the coming months) - it's hard being an adult, people. I've been traveling (mainly visiting @lethalchiralium a bunch <3), planning a big move, looking to land a new job...all the things. Anyway! Please enjoy. Blessed be, and Happy Yuletide!

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“Si…”

“Hm?”

“He’s getting too big.”

Simon turned his chair slightly away from his desk to peek over his shoulder. In the doorway to their office stood Freyja with a six-month-old Arthur on her arm, clad in a cow-print onesie. The little hood was pulled up over his head, sporting fluffy little ears on top, along with a pair of horns. 

He just about melted when Frey pouted at him and sniffled, rubbing their son’s back. Simon was up in an instant, padding across the carpet to stand by her side, a soft, sympathetic smile gracing his features. He bent his head a little and attempted to get the baby’s attention, gently brushing his back with his fingers “Art. Artie…” he hummed, the last syllable drawn out a bit. “Look at Dada, Art.”

Arthur did eventually turn his head, after a moment, preoccupied with gumming his toy and confused by the interruption. The hood that used to hang over his face and block his vision now sat snug on his fine hair. There was no need to adjust it back to meet his big, curious eyes. 

“Hi, pup.”

Simon wasn’t his preferred parent by any means; that privilege was reserved for his mum. Still, on seeing a familiar face, the baby smiled around his teething ring, and his fat cheeks chubbed up as he cooed and wiggled in Freyja’s hold. He pressed his hand between the two, his palm against Arthur’s chest, and took the infant onto his forearm, his little back against his chest. 

Simon let out a dramatic huff, kissed Art’s head, then patted his belly. “Oh, yeah,” he said, giving his wife a playful look. “Look at those big, manly legs of yours. Thing’s a bit tight on ye, now.”

The baby craned his neck, trying to look back at his dad as he spoke, and quickly getting frustrated and crying out. Simon chuckled and turned him around, supporting his neck and peppering kisses on Art’s rosy cheek. When he was satisfied, he leaned down for a quick kiss from Freyja.

“It lasted longer than I thought it would. He’s nearly busting out of it.”

“Simon!”

“What? He’s six months old, Freyja. He’s been wearing it since he was born. Oversized, might I add.”

“Shut up. It’s my favorite. My little moo cow.” 

“We can buy him a new one.”

“He’s growing too fast. I hate it.”

Don’t I know it?

To Simon, it felt like Artie had only been born yesterday. Where did the baby in front of him, who was sitting up on his own and already using a sign or two, come from? He had no idea, couldn’t say where the time went. God forbid he blinks, and suddenly he’ll be walking and chasing after his sister-

No. It’s fine. That’s what babies do, yeah? They start eating solids, learn to crawl, then walk. Then they go to their first day of primary school, then…secondary…

Stop it.

He settled for a soft, “I know, love.”

Arthur cooed up at him again, a sound known to pull easy smiles from the man. He would listen to it forever, if he could. 

“Yeah? Do you like that idea?” Simon asked, tracing patterns on Art’s back with his fingers again. “Do you want a new cow onesie?” A little smile from Art. “Alright, pup. Dad will get you one.”

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Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[thecrystalquill]

A/N: Chapter fifteen is finally here! What do you think of the moodboard? Leave a like :) also a quick note, I won't tag anyone who doesn't like the series - I think that's only fair...

Masterlist Series Masterlist Introduction Your First Year Letter

Chapter Fifteen ~ Yuletide Shenanigans

Deputy Headmistress McGonagall’s office was smaller than she’d expected, but no less grand. The heavy curtains that framed the window were a proud Gryffindor red, the walls were lined with a tidy display of shelves, and the table was organised and neat. (Y/N) had been sat in a chair beside the desk for almost fifteen minutes, waiting for her escort. She was beginning to get a little impatient.

She had taken to reading the spines on the shelf when the woman in question finally re-entered, followed by Albus Dumbledore himself.

It was the first time she had ever directly met the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and she would remember it well. He looked older up close, and shorter; perhaps the illusion of his height was simply due to the fact that she had only ever seen him standing on the elevated platform in the Great Hall, making speeches and what-not. His robes were dark blues paired with white, and his hands were crossed in front of him, a bone-coloured wand peaking from behind them. But his eyes were what struck her; sharp and keen despite his age, eyes that had seen so much of the world, and looked at her with a practiced gentleness that hid something deeper.

“Thank you for waiting, Miss Addams.” McGonagall said with a kind smile, and (Y/N) could finally pull her eyes away from the headmaster. “Headmaster Dumbledore has come to see that our travel goes smoothly.”

“Our?”

“It would be irresponsible,” Began the headmaster with a smile as (Y/N) grabbed her coat, “to allow you to travel to Hogsmeade unsupervised.” Dumbledore made his way towards the great fireplace, and brought out a small, black cauldron from its mantle.

“Now, grab your things, dear.” Said McGonagall with a gesture as she approached the unlit fire.

(Y/N) did as she was asked, taking her travel-sized case in one hand and the bat cage that contained a disgruntled young cat in the other, her long black coat draped over her arm. When she followed the woman, she’d expected her to head towards the door, but it seemed the professor had another exit in mind.

“You may be unfamiliar with Floo travel, I presume?” McGonagall asked as she took a handful of grey-green ash from the small cauldron in the headmaster’s hand. (Y/N) nodded and the deputy-headmistress gave her a reassuring smile. “Not to worry, just repeat after me.” She bid a short farewell to Dumbledore, took (Y/N)'s bat cage in hand, and then stepped into the blackened hearth, the top of her hat bending against the entrance. “The Hog’s Head Inn.” She articulated, and with a drop of ash and a flash of green smoke, (Y/N) was awed to see no sign of her Transfiguration teacher at all.

“Now you, Miss Addams.” Dumbledore encouraged and held out a hand for her to shake, then held out the cauldron. “Simply say where you’d like to go and throw the Floo powder at your feet.”

Stepping into the heath with her things in one hand and a fistful of green ash in the other, (Y/N) took a breath and followed the instructions. And in a flash of green smoke, she felt the floor disappear.

When the smoke cleared, the first thing she noticed was the warm light that filled the room. The second, and most welcome, was the scent of harsh sulphur being replaced with cigar smoke. There was only one person she knew that carried cigars with them at all times.

“Cucarachita!” Within seconds, (Y/N) was pulled into the enthusiastic embrace of her father, hugging her so tightly that she almost couldn’t breathe. “Oh, you have been missed.”

“I missed you too, Papa.” She replied, though her voice was muffled through the fabric of his blazer.

After nearly a whole ten seconds, her father finally pulled back to look at her, holding her at arms length to take her in. (Y/N) looked him over, too; his hair was combed back with his potent black cream, his moustache freshly trimmed, and he was wearing a new vest – brown, red, and black (of course) knitted wool, to keep him warm in the freezing Scottish winter. “(Y/N),” he said after a moment, with a gleam in his eye, “what are they feeding you? You’re taller already!”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and pushed him away, tugging on the hem of her turtle-kneck. “You’re exaggerating, Father.”

Gomez only laughed and patted her head (much to her disapproval), but was soon distracted by a hand snaking up his arm. “Don’t go keeping her all to yourself now, mon cher.” Her mother interrupted, now standing beside him and getting a good look at her eldest daughter.

“Oh, of course not, cara mia.” Her father replied as he took his wife’s elegant hand into his hold and began pressing kisses into her pale skin.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes – she’d only been there for a minute and already they were all over each other. “Father, please.” She groaned, seeing McGonagall standing to the side with wide eyes. “Can’t you keep your hands off each other for five minutes?”

“If history is any indication – no.” The drab voice of her little sister came from behind, almost startling her (she must have been practising her lurking).

The sisters shared a look, an agreement that they had much to discuss later – in private. “Wednesday,” (Y/N) nodded, receiving a nod back; they hadn’t the most affectionate relationship.

It seemed the greetings just kept coming; Pugsley slammed himself into her for a quick (but extremely tight) hug, Grandmama pinched her cheeks, Lurch smiled and groaned warmly, and even Thing seemed to have missed her with how he ran up to squeeze her shoulder (conveniently, while McGonagall wasn’t looking).

“Well, now that we’re all settled,” Said the deputy headmistress kindly as they all gathered on the couches in the guest sitting room, “I presume that (Y/N) will be spending the holiday here with you?”

“Of course, if she’d like to.” Morticia replied from her seat beside the older woman. “Though, she did mention how she wanted to stay at Hogwarts to keep her friend company.”

“Oh, I see,” McGonagall replied with a hint of confusion, “and who would that be--?”

“—Speaking of Hogwarts!” (Y/N) interrupted quickly, hoping she hadn’t sounded too obviously suspicious. “Wednesday was just telling me how much she wishes she could see it. Right, Wednesday?” She emphasised with a hard look and a subtle nudge.

Wednesday cleared her throat and put down the teacup from her lips, taking the hint. “Right, yes. I said that.” She nodded along, looking to the adults with as much sincerity as she could. “We’d all like to visit.”

“Oh! Can we?” Pugsley enthusiastically asked with a wide grin, sitting up straighter on the floor and staring excitedly at the woman.

“A superb idea!” Their father agreed, leaning forward as well. “What do you say, Professor?

“Yes,” Morticia smiled softly, “it would be so wonderful to see where our daughter stays. Would that be possible, Professor McGonagall?”

McGonagall seemed awfully put on the spot, placing her teacup back on the table to fold her hands in her lap. “Well, it’s perfectly reasonable, I suppose.” She began. “But I would have to discuss it with Headmaster Dumbledore first…”

“I thought you were the deputy headmistress.” Wednesday said slyly. “You need his permission to let us see (Y/N)’s new home?”

McGonagall pursed her lips, not easily fooled, it seemed. “He is the headmaster, Miss Addams. He must be notified on all things that go on in his school.”

“Well then, you can tell him all about it when we get there.” Said Granmama as she rose from her chair by the fire to grab her shawl. “Now, show us that disappearing trick, will you?” She demanded as she walked over to the empty hearth from which they entered. Crazy or not, Grandmama was good at getting her way.

With a composed sigh, McGonagall stood and accepted the insistence. “No need, Ms Addams, I will arrange for a carriage.” She relented, and swiftly left the room to find the owner.

Wednesday and (Y/N) exchanged small smirks as their family discussed among themselves, satisfied with the outcome. So far, everything was going according to plan.

From the moment they stepped out of the carriage, the whole Addams family had hardly stopped gasping, pointing, complimenting, and displaying all other signs of awe – even Wednesday could hardly stop looking at every exquisite feature of the castle. (Y/N) was much reminded of her first day, which already seemed so long ago; she too had been so entranced by Hogwart’s beauty, just the same. From the entrance courtyard covered in snow, all the way to the Headmaster’s office, and down again to the Great Hall, every Addams had enjoyed the tour greatly.

A few students lingered at the dining tables, playing games and talking and what-not, but had quickly been distracted by the entrance of the infamous Addams clan. (Y/N) could already smell the reek of growing gossip and rumours.

“This is Hagrid, Hogwart’s groundskeeper,” McGonagall introduced as they came to a halt at the staff table, where a giant of a man was sat talking with Flitwick, who looked all the more short beside him, “and Professor Flitwick, our Charms teacher.”

“Very nice to meet you,” her father smiled as he shook each of their hands, “Gomez Addams.”

“What a surprise,” Said Professor Flitwick as Morticia gave him her hand next, followed by Grandmama.

“An intriguing subject.” Her mother complimented sweetly. “Tell me, Professor, how is our daughter doing in your class?”

“Well, yes, very well.” He replied, nodding at (Y/N). “Always finishes her work, hands her homework in on time. And a fast learner – much potential.”

The approval warmed her cold heart.

“So, Mr Hagrid,” her father began, “groundskeeper, eh? Good job.”

The large man agreed and smiled, and (Y/N) thought it much a shame that they had never really met. “That it is, Mr Addams. An ‘ard job, but a goodun. Always summin’ to be done.”

Now that a sufficient amount of small talk had been had, Professor McGonagall drew attention back to their reason for coming. “Hagrid, I was hoping that you might give our guests a tour of the school.”

“Oh aye, o’course I would.” Hagrid agreed and made his way around the table, startled for a second to find himself only a foot taller than Lurch.

“Marvelous.” Said McGonagall. “I have much to be getting on with, it was very nice to meet you.” She shook their hands and bid them farewell, leaving them in the safe care of the groundskeeper.

“And ‘ere we ‘ave the library.” Hagrid announced as they entered the grand room, yet again stunning the family with its sheer enormity.

“Impressive.” Gomez nodded as he looked up at the tall ceiling, and greeted the librarian at her desk.

Grandmama shrugged. “I’ve seen bigger.”

“You have not.” Pugsley insisted, only to be shushed.

The group walked further in, talking with the groundskeeper pleasantly. When they had seen enough, they turned to leave for the long walk to the Gallery. It was then that the two sisters seized the opportunity to fall behind.

“This way.” (Y/N) whispered after their family left, guiding the younger girl further into the library. They hurried quietly, unsure of how long it would be before their family noticed their absence – or worse, they were caught by Pince.

Soon they came to the back of the library, where they stood before the dimly lit windows that hid more books from their reach. “What’s this?” Wednesday asked.

“The Restricted Section.” (Y/N) replied, walking along further until she found the locked entrance. “I heard Hermione talking about it, she said it’s kept locked at all times. But I figured, even if there’s magic to get in the way, it’s nothing you can’t get through. You’re the best lock-pick I know.”

“That almost sounded like a compliment,” Wednesday said as she took a few tools from her coat pocket and knelt down to the lock.

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) turned to keep look-out from the shadow of a bookcase. “It wont happen again.”

Without a moment to spare, Wednesday inserted her tools into the keyhole and got to work, carefully picking away at the inside mechanics. With any regular lock, she would have had it open in less than a minute, but it seemed this one was proving stubborn.

“The stupid thing is cheating.” She grumbled as she inserted a third pin and tried to work them all at once.

(Y/N) glanced from around the corner, seeing no movement for some minutes now. “How so?”

“Every time I make some progress, it goes and reverses it again.” Wednesday explained through gritted teeth.

(Y/N) might have replied with something helpful, if she hadn’t spotted Pince pushing the return cart in their direction, stopping every so often to place some books away. “Hurry up, Pince is coming.” She stressed, hoping to Hell that the librarian had no need to travel so far, and that the rumours of her superhuman hearing were simply rumours.

“I’m trying.”

“Well try faster.”

“Would you like to take over? Because I’ll stop if you want.” Wednesday sassed, and (Y/N) bit her tongue before she made true on her word.

With every step closer Pince took, (Y/N) could feel her heart pacing faster – if she got caught, would she be expelled? Because she didn’t think she could handle the shame.

Pince was just two cases away when (Y/N) heard a quiet mechanical click and a sigh from her sister. “It’s open.”

“Great, now we have to go.” She replied, ignoring Wednesday’s protest as she yanked her up and pulled her around the side of the bookcase, narrowly escaping Pince’s sight.

“What are you doing? We could have gone in.” Wednesday whispered furiously as she was dragged against her will towards the library doors.

“Not without being seen – there’s no way Pince would’ve missed that. And we don’t even know if the door creaks!” (Y/N) argued as they finally made it to the hallway. “If we were caught, it would have all been over. I’m not risking it.”

A few paces away from the turn into the next hallway, Wednesday finally pulled her arm out of her sister’s grasp and hid her pins safely back inside her pocket. “Then when are we going back?”

(Y/N) shook her head and buttoned up her cardigan, then held a finger up to her lips as they passed through the Gallery Hall, extremely aware of the keen ears of the portraits and how they loved to gossip. “We aren’t. I’ll sneak in after curfew--”

“—I want to go in too!” Wednesday argued, only to be shushed as (Y/N) pointed towards the portraits again. She clearly hadn’t expected them to be alive.

“The only time I can sneak in is after curfew, and you’ll be staying at the inn.” (Y/N) explained, and hurried her along to find the others as quickly as they could before she could argue much more.

(Y/N) did wish that Wednesday could go with her; breaking and entering wasn’t half as much fun alone. And she felt a little guilty that there wasn’t any more she could do. But perhaps a peek at the Necromancy book would cheer her up. If not, she wouldn’t be hearing the end of this for a very long time.

The Hog’s Head was a fine establishment; from the crooked ashen pillars of the entrance to the narrow wooden hallways of the rooms. The Addamses spent their first afternoon together in the main lounge of the pub, sharing a creaky wooden table by a large window. It was a wonderful atmosphere. There were a few dozen people dotted about, eating and drinking and laughing – a few were playing card games and losing money, some smoking large pipes, and the odd couple making dodgy deals concealed by the shadows. There were few odd decorations for the season, wilting wreaths and dried up pine garlands with more needles on the floor than the branches. Drinks were refilled constantly, and the food was hearty (though (Y/N) was surprised to realise she much preferred the food at Hogwarts), and the conversation was endless. This was how they spent their Sunday, all the way through the day until late night.

(Y/N) was retelling the events of the Quidditch match, sparing no details missed in the letter she’d sent home after, and they listened with great interest and occasional laughs.

“...So I followed her all the way to the teachers’ stands, and she tells me that it’s Snape whose responsible for Harry’s broom trying to knock him off.” She explained, her fruitcake long forgotten in front of her. “So I took out my matches – because you know I always carry matches-” her family nodded and agreed with variations of ‘of course’ and ‘obviously’ “-and I tried to light his cloak on fire. But the stupid thing was damp, so Hermione gets out her wand and does this spell I’ve never even heard before, and it just goes up in flames – of course, I’d already warmed it up for her. Then there’s shrieks and stomping, and we run all the way down to the bottom in time for the end of the game.”

Her father let out a deep laugh, and beamed at his daughter. “Excellent story!”

Grandmama cackled along and held her mead up in a toasting gesture. “Good girl – always good to have a friend who’ll start fires with you.”

“We’re looking forward to meeting her,” her mother said. “Have you made any more friends?”

“Well, there’s Saoirse – she’s my roommate.”

“What about enemies?” Wednesday interrupted, swirling her drink around in her cup as she feigned disinterest. “Tell me you at least have one of those.”

Enemy may have been a strong word; there were certainly those she didn’t care for, but she hadn’t been fortunate enough to find someone really worth torturing. “There are plenty of unlikeable people to choose from,” (Y/N) said instead, “the potions professor, for a start – and that obnoxious Malfoy boy. But so far I haven’t found one worth the time.”

Grandmama seemed to pick her head up from her potent drink at whatever (Y/N) had said, something certainly had caught her interest. She wrapped her ratty black shawl around her and leaned across the table to shush Gomez, who had started speaking of his favourite nemesis from his own school years. “Malfoy?” She repeated, her croaky voice taking an edge to the name as a scowl came across her wrinkled features.

(Y/N) nodded in confusion, eager to know what her grandmother had to say on the matter – whatever had her mouth twisting. “What about him, Grandmama?”

To their surprise (but, frankly, not shock), the woman spat at the mention. “What about him? It was them Malfoys that wanted us outed!”

“What are you talking about?” Said Wednesday, just as interested as everyone else, but bored of waiting for her to get to the point already.

Grandmama sat back in her chair, the wood creaking quietly at the movement. “We Addamses were a part of the Sacred Twenty-nine, you know? The pure families, they called themselves. We were as worthy as any of them – more, even – but they were jealous. That’s what Mother always said. Jealous of our money and our power.” From her pocket, Grandmama pulled out a brown smoking pipe and a tin of smoking tabacco and herbs, which she stuffed in as she spoke, then let Thing light it for her when she was done. She took a few puffs before she returned to her story. “When the family started birthing Squibbs, it was them who wanted us out – the Malfoys and the Blacks. Called us ‘tainted’ and ‘impure’. They’re the reason we were outcasted. Said they couldn’t be associated with us. Said our families couldn’t mix. Said a lot of things, but it worked. Then it was the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

There was a pause when she was done, tobacco and mugwort wafting in the stale air as the family considered her words. It seemed to (Y/N) that there was still plenty that she had yet to reveal about their family’s past; still so much to learn.

It also seemed to her, that there was more to the Malfoys than money and misplaced pride.

For two beautifully sullen days, all thoughts of school and mysteries had vacated (Y/N)’s mind. There were no ghostly messages, no age-old notes, and no suspicious books at the bottom of her travel case. She shared a room with her siblings, ate with her family as they would back home, go for walks in the freezing snow and hail, and lurk around the town looking for things to do.

It was three in the afternoon, the sky was grey with winter clouds, and the children were playing in the street, throwing compact ice-balls at each other (and the occasional pedestrian who dared get caught in the cross-fire). There were no rules in an ice-ball fight, a winner was only established when all other players had to forfeit; injuries were guaranteed.

The two sisters had cruelly decided to work together against their little brother, leaving him vulnerable on both sides. As they often were when they worked as a team, the girls were formidable and relentless, meaning Pugsley’s only choice was to run and hide, dodging hand-pressed wedges of ice from every angle. It was a dog-eat-dog game; as soon as the runt was out of the picture, they would turn on each other.

They spotted Pugsley run between a crowd of shoppers as they were making more ammo, and quickly followed in his direction. Pugsley’s small boots made half-sized footprints in the snow, and they easily followed them to an alley. Wednesday peaked around the corner and saw that it lead to a ten-foot – the narrow backstreet behind two rows of houses where the bins were kept. “Go to the other side and block his path.” She mumbled and threw one end of her grey scarf around her shoulder. “I want him cornered.”

The girls shared a mischievous look, and (Y/N) nodded before running down the street to find the other end of the ten-foot. Eight houses later, she came to the opening and peeked around the side. She saw Wednesday at the other end, and they both started down each side, looking behind every item that Pugsley could use for cover, until (Y/N) spotted a footprint in the snow a few meters away. With a predatory stare, she creeped forward even more quietly, her footsteps barely crunching the snow, until she just saw the tail of a black coat behind a bin. Wednesday saw her stop, and came forward with her weapon raised, following the footprints until they were just a few steps from his hiding place. “Pugsley.” Wednesday called in a taunting voice. “We know you’re there.”

There was no sound from behind the bin, and if it weren’t for the coat and his tracks, (Y/N) might have doubted for a second if he was there. “You might as well come out now.” She said from the other side, wielding her own ice-ball. “Surrender while you can.”

“I’m not surrendering!” They heard, and (Y/N) could hardly help the evil smile that broke loose on her lips at the slight tremble of fear Pugsley tried to hide under his stubborn determination.

“You’re small and weak,” said Wednesday, “you’re not going to win. We overpower you in both numbers and size. This is your last chance to give up.”

There was a pause. For a moment, they thought he might actually surrender, but then (Y/N) saw movement from the side. “He’s sneaking past!” She warned, and the girls started to chase him back the way they’d followed him. Wednesday cursed as her ice-ball barely made it half the distance to her target – the kid was swift and full of energy, much to her chagrin – but he turned to look over his shoulder for a second, which slowed him a little. (Y/N) stopped quickly and threw the ice she was carrying as hard as she could in his direction; it flew with precision for a longer distance than she’d expected, but landed perfectly just as he turned around. Bullseye.

Pugsley fell back with a yell as the ice hit him right on his forehead, knocking him off balance just as Wednesday caught up and threw all the rest of her ammo at him while he blocked his face from more damage. “Stop! Stop! You got me!” The boy cried as his sister pelted more snow and ice at him.

When (Y/N) reached them, Wednesday had Pugsley pinned with a knee on his chest as she compressed another ice-ball. “Admit defeat.” She demanded and raised her weapon up.

Pugsley hesitated, a defiant stare on his face even as his sister kneed him harder in the chest.

“Say it.”

The boy sighed and sank his head back into the snowy ground, eyeing her ice-ball wearily. “Wednesday is superior and I am weak.” He groaned – she had him say it every time she beat him, and he hated it more and more each time.

“Good.” She said, then threw the ice at him anyway before she stood.

“Hey!” He yelled as it hit him in the cheek. “Cheat!”

Wednesday dusted herself off and shrugged carelessly. “You let your guard down.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” (Y/N) smirked as she leant a hand to her little brother, observing the new red marks on his face (she couldn’t help but feel a little proud at the bruise growing above his brow where she’d hit him). “Mother and Father want us back for dinner soon – we’ll still need time to clean up.”

"Why does she always make me say that?" Pugsley grumbled as he rubbed his sore cheek.

"Don't worry about it, Pugsley," (Y/N) assured, "one day you'll beat her, and it'll feel a whole lot better when you make her say it instead."

A second later, she felt a harsh hit on her shoulder, and pieces of ice and snow sprayed across her face. (Y/N) turned quickly to glare at her sister’s audacity, curling her fist in anger. “You are a cheat!” She scolded.

“And a winner.” Wednesday almost smiled, clearly proud of herself. “Now, what do you say?”

“I am not saying it.” She answered back, facing the girl fully and glaring daggers down at her (there was barely two inches between them, but (Y/N) was sure to always hold it above her). “Besides, only a coward shoots someone in the back.”

Wednesday squinted her eyes. “I’m not a coward – I shot you in the shoulder.”

“How about I shoot you in the face?”

A throat was cleared from beside them, and all three siblings turned at the intrusion.

Grandmama gave a croaky laugh at their antics. “I heard your squabbling from the inn.” She said with a half-grin, pointing the end of her walking stick at them. “You know, when I was your age, we used to shoot at each other with real weapons.” She sighed nostalgically. “Must get you some one day. Well – time to go in now, go on.” She encouraged with a poke at their legs, before she shuffled along after them, using her stick to be sure she wouldn’t slip on any ice.

The morning sun was peaking in through the inn’s dirty, frosted windows and between the edges of the old browning drapes, slowly waking its inhabitants from their slumber. (Y/N) ignored it for a while, turning in her lumpy bed and away from the pesky sunlight that interrupted her sleep. All was silent.

For a moment.

Just as she was about to drift back into unconsciousness, a sudden weight pushed down on the mattress and bounced her body about. “(Y/N)! Wake up!” Pugsley cried as he bounced on his knees, shaking her shoulder with both hands to be sure she couldn’t ignore him. “Wake up!”

“Go away.” She grumbled and kicked him from under the duvet, satisfied when he tumbled loudly to the cold, wooden floor. It didn’t seem to stop him for long, though, as he stood and shook her about once more.

“Get up!” He yelled, growing more frustrated as he then crossed the room to throw a pillow at Wednesday (it was wise to keep a safe distance from her).

Wednesday’s eyes shot open and glared at him immediately, already in a foul mood as she took the pillow and launched it at his face, making him wince as it struck his new bruise. “You insufferable little troll – shut up before I stuff that pillow down your throat.”

“It’s Christmas!” Pugsley cried, unaffected by his sister’s (very possible) threat. He ran to grab the robe from the end of his bed and quickly pushed his arms through the sleeves, then shoved on his slippers and made for the door.

(Y/N) sat up and rubbed her eyes, finally awake enough for the information to process. “Pugsley,” she called as he’d stepped into the hallway, “don’t wake Mother and Father, remember. Knock.”

A haunted look passed over the boy’s face for a half-second, before he quickly nodded and went on his way.

(Y/N) sat up and yawned, her breath fogging up in the chilly room. She could hardly believe how quickly time had passed already; but excitement bubbled in her gut nonetheless. Tugging on her own slippers and wrapping herself in her plum-coloured robe, she scooped Jinx up from where he had been sleeping in the warm space between the duvet and her pillows, and made her way to her sister.

Wednesday was laid back again, arms crossed over her chest in her usual corpse-like pose and braids tucked under her head. Her dark eyes opened as (Y/N) approached. Neither girl said anything for a moment, until eventually Wednesday rolled her eyes and began to get out of bed, just in time to hear Pugsley running down the stairs with Thing trailing behind.

There were no other guests staying at The Hog’s Head for the occasion, so the family had decided to rent out a sitting room. The inn’s owner had a uniquely decorated pine tree stood in the corner, covered in cracked baubles and ratty ribbons, and topped with the decapitated head of a porcelain doll with pink cheeks and a missing eye. The fire was lit too, but not roaring, making the room comfortable but not warm. A spider crawled along the wall towards the window, where it spun a web of its own design; (Y/N) briefly wondered how it had lived into the winter, but quickly decided that it was unimportant. It all looked wonderfully wrong.

“Good morning, girls.” Their mother greeted from a chair, making the other few present turn towards the entrance. She looked as put together as always, in her velvet black robe that trailed the floor, with a look of contentment on her grey and white dusted features. “Did you have sweet nightmares?”

Wednesday moved to the sofa by the tree, where Thing was patiently tapping a finger on the arm, waving at her as she sat. “I dreamt of nothing.” She stated with a hint of boredom, then turned to eye the boxes of gifts sat under the dying plant beside her. She took up conversation with the hand, focusing on his rapid movements and spelling.

Morticia looked to her eldest daughter for her answer, who placed the cat in her arms on the back of the chair by the fire and sat. “And you, (Y/N)?”

“Yes, Mother,” she replied, “I had very interesting nightmares.” In the excitement of the morning, she had almost forgotten about the strange dreams that had tortured her sleep. She dreamed of drowning in thousands of library books; of dark figures lurking in corners; of a haggard old crow that did nothing but stare; of storms and riddles and corpse voices that gave unintelligible instructions. For a few days, she had simply been a girl spending the winter holidays with her family, and with one haunting dream, she was once again reminded of a responsibility that she did not want.

“How lovely,” her mother replied, then was soon distracted by the entrance of her husband.

Donned in his black and red robe, Gomez Addams had the incredibly important duty of bringing the perfect morning coffee to his wife – a duty he took very seriously. Before affording distractions to anything else, he set the tray on the table beside her and poured the scalding drink from the teapot into a dainty teacup and handed it over. “There, Tish. Dangerously hot and lightly sweetened with cyanide, just how you like it.” He smiled as she took a sip, then sat beside her and kissed her knuckles. “Just how I like you.”

The three children screwed up their faces and shared a look of disgust, but said nothing. It was one thing that (Y/N) had not missed about her parents.

Grandmama was the last to enter, shuffling over to drop herself down onto the last remaining seat as Lurch brought over her usual morning tea. Soon, everyone was greeted and comfortable, and Pugsley was finally able to ask for his gifts.

Gomez laughed heartily and nodded. “Go ahead, my boy.” He said, and with that, the three siblings sat themselves on the floor and began to rummage for their names.

Pugsley was the first to find his name, and wasted no time in opening the box to find a grotesque shrunken head. He took it in his hands excitedly to examine it closer, poking at the string that bound together its lips and eyelids.

Wednesday unwrapped what looked at first to be a chemistry set, but upon close inspection found to be filled with various poisonous herbs and suspicious fluids. Though she didn’t show it as expressively as Pugsley, she was clearly very pleased with it.

(Y/N) tore at black and white paper and revealed a box, from which she pulled a half-decomposed, rotting hand on a flat wooden stand – the one from Borgin and Burke’s. “I’d almost forgotten about this.” She smiled at her father, who looked very proud of himself at her reaction. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Cucarachita.” He replied as he pulled a cigar and lighter from his pocket. “I’m sure you will find good use for it."

Much too quickly for their liking, the children finished unwrapping their gifts and sat on the floor admiring their many new possessions. Pugsley was playing with the shrunken head and a large taxidermy rat, (Y/N) was stabbing at the space between her fingers on the floor with her new gold-tipped throwing knife, and Wednesday was reading through the copy of Arachnomancy that (Y/N) had ‘borrowed’ from the library for her.

The family feasted in the pub downstairs, enjoying the busy environment of strangers eating and drinking for the special occasion, getting rowdy and arguing or playing unrecommendable games – it was much different from their usual traditions, but it was good. In fact, it wasn’t all that different from one of their larger family gatherings, with the shouting, the music, and the occasional object being thrown across the room.

And as they settled back into the sitting room for the evening, talking tiredly as Lurch finished up the last details of their family portrait, (Y/N) sat on the floor and leaned back into her mother’s legs, letting her long nails comb through her hair as she stared off into the dying fire.

For one more night, she had nothing to worry about.

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[fanlore-wiki]

Ship Sunday: Arthur Hastings/Hercule Poirot

For Ship Sunday this week, we’re putting the magnifying glass on the slash pairing of Arthur Hastings/Hercule Poirot from Agatha Christie’s Poirot series.

Although the fandom is small, Poirot/Hastings is one of its most popular pairings! Both the Poirot fandom and the pairing are regularly requested in the annual Yuletide gift exchange, and many fanfics for the pairing are case fics or feature an established relationship.

Are you a fan of Poirot/Hastings? Help us expand their Fanlore page!

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We value every contribution to our shared fandom history. If you’re new to editing Fanlore or wikis in general, visit our New Visitor Portal to get started or ask us questions here!

[infinitystoner]

Underneath the Tree

AO3 | Masterlist

✨part of @sarahscribbles’ Christmas Collection; header by @inklore✨

Summary: You’re expecting to spend the holidays without your other half. So when Loki reappears the night before Christmas, you indulge in a little merriment to make up for lost time.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Tags/Content: Holiday Surprises Befitting the God of Mischief, Romantic Reunions, Fluff, Smut (Fingering, Cunnilingus, Anal Sex), Soft Dom! Loki, Established Relationship

Rating: Explicit; 18+

Author’s note: Here be the Yuletide filth! I realize butt stuff isn’t for everyone, but it’s actually really soft and sweet (and not overly explicit). If you like my writing, I hope you give it a chance. xx

The hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention as you pad across the kitchen floor, unnerved by the unmistakable feeling of being watched. You abandon your post-bath time snack on the counter, clutching at your bathrobe as trepidation gnaws at the back of your mind.

With the curtains drawn, only the glimmering lights on your Christmas tree illuminate the living room. It’s hard to see anything beyond silhouettes and shadows. A quiet night like this amidst the bustling holiday season is a rare treat, and you should be grateful and relaxed, but you just can’t shake the feeling that you’re not alone. 

You try to ignore the frantic beat of your pulse thundering in your ears as you inch closer to the tree. Did someone break in while you were in the shower? The rational part of your brain knows it’s downright laughable to entertain such a thought. A security breach is practically impossible thanks to Tony’s impenetrable tech. Unless…

“You’re back,” you say cautiously, voice no louder than a whisper. 

A surge of longing permeates your being, doing little to appease the rapid beating of your heart. The familiar shuffle of centuries-old leather catches your attention, all fear melting away as you turn to see a formidable figure emerge from the corner. 

Loki.

“I’m back,” he responds simply. 

He closes in, his gaze never leaving yours, the purposeful sound of his heavy boots on your hardwood floors resonating through the space. Loki’s presence is a solace you can’t quite articulate—but suddenly there’s a warmth filling the cracks that etched across your heart when he left. And there’s a calm wrapping around your solitude like a cozy blanket on the coldest winter night.  

You study the god before you, the Christmas lights casting a soft glow over his figure. His dark curls fall in waves atop his shoulders, regally framing his perfectly sculpted features. His brows slant upward as he drinks in the sight of you, a dimple appearing along his cheek as he returns your smile. When he slides his hands around your waist, your stomach somersaults at his touch.

You take a deep breath and reach up to cup his jaw, savoring the coolness of his smooth skin. Loki leans into your palm, closing his eyes and exhaling a deep sigh. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. You can’t resist the urge to pull him into a tight embrace, humming as his strong arms wrap around you in response.

He tenderly presses a kiss to your temple, tugging you closer against his muscular chest. The scent of ancient forests, leather, and musk—along with something sweeter you can’t quite place—invades your senses. Finally, he breaks the comfortable silence. 

“Did you miss me?”

Loki searches your eyes, a hint of apprehension marring his beautiful face. He’s only been gone for about six weeks—which is nothing compared to the months you previously spent without him. But how did you ever think you’d be okay spending the holiday without him? 

You glance up at him with feigned exasperation.

“Of course I missed you, you silly, gorgeous man. But did it ever occur to you to knock? Or call ahead? Perhaps send a raven?” 

A devilish smirk adorns lips. “Now where’s the fun in that?” 

“But what if I’d attacked you? I wasn’t expecting you back until after–” 

“Attacked me?” Loki chuckles, sitting on the sofa and pulling you onto his lap. “Now that I’d like to see.” 

“Is that so?” you ask, caressing the gold plating embellishing his chest and trailing your fingertips across the high collar of his leathers, stopping only when you reach the sharp juncture of his jaw. He peers up at you as you straddle his hips, and the glint of mischief in his eyes is exhilarating. 

“Mm, perhaps later, my little vixen.” 

With a flick of his wrist, a fire roars to life in your hearth. Beyond the crackles and pops of the blaze, a familiar Christmas song begins to play and you swear more twinkling lights appear on your tree. You’re not sure if the night can get more perfect than this.

“What is the phrase you mortals are so fond of this time of year? Season’s Greetings?” 

“Something like that.” 

“You know, we host a similar winter festival on Asgard,” he explains as you tuck his hair behind his ear, exposing the column of his neck. “It’s rather extravagant. Hedonistic, some might say.”

“So, you willingly left the decadence of Asgard. To spend Christmas on Earth. With me.” 

“Is that really so inconceivable, my love? I am, to borrow another turn of phrase, quite smitten, I’m afraid.” 

“Just wanted to be sure,” you tease, but a familiar tingling sparks in your core at his admission. Sometimes you can hardly believe this man—this god—fell so hopelessly in love with you. Of course, you have your issues like any other couple. Dating an alien who once tried to take over your planet does not come without consequence. But, oh, the way he’s looking at you now makes it all worth it. 

“And I believe this is a holiday spent in the company of those you care about, is it not?” he continues. “Besides, Mother quickly picked up on the fact I was more distracted than usual and blessed my departure.”  

“Must remember to thank Frigga for this Christmas surprise,” you joke, pretending to jot down a note. 

The curious arch of Loki’s brows soon contorts into an expression of ecstasy as you begin to work your lips along the column of his neck, nipping at his skin.

“Gods,” he quietly says, shifting beneath you and tightening his grip on your waist. His low rumble of pleasure is a sound you can happily lose yourself in. With a final press of your tongue to the erogenous zone below his ear, you lean back, but Loki is quick to capture your lips in a blistering kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close and savoring the taste of him. A trace of mulled wine lingers on his mouth, and you wonder if he left Asgard in the midst of the aforementioned Yuletide celebration. 

“So, are you going to tell me?” you murmur against his lips. “Or am I to believe it was only the thought of startling me in the middle of the night that drew you away from your royal duties?”

“What?” Loki’s brows furrow in sincere confusion, his mouth agape.

“You said you were distracted…”

“Oh, yes. That.” The knowing glance he gives you in response sends a jolt of arousal coursing through your body. He clears his throat, running his hands under the curve of your ass before rolling you over onto your back.

“I was distracted by you,” he says, pulling your robe open. “You infiltrated my every waking thought, you infuriating woman.”

“That’s hardly surprising,” you giggle, biting your bottom lip as he magicks away his armor. His alabaster skin is ethereal under the amber glow of the blazing fire, every dip of his chiseled torso cast in devastating shadows, muscles rippling beneath his taut skin as he leans over you. Your fingertips ghost over the fine smattering of hair below his navel, their sensuous journey interrupted by a band of leather. You whine, tugging at his trousers. 

“Patience, darling,” he snickers, kissing along your collarbone. His tongue flits along the valley of your breasts and a white hot heat coils in your hips. Loki tilts his chin up, darkened eyes piercing your very soul. “I’m not going anywhere.”  

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth as he moves against your skin. You arch into him with a gasp, fingers digging into the broad expanse of his shoulders, his lithe muscles rippling under your touch.

“And we’ve both been so very patient, haven’t we?”

A wolfish grin creeps across his face as he tenderly pushes your thighs toward your stomach, his hands pushing your knees outward as you offer yourself up to him. You’re completely exposed, but any hint of inhibition dissipates as you note the unadulterated lust in your lover’s eyes.

Loki inhales sharply, greedily consuming what little air is left between you. Within seconds his mouth is warm against your cunt, and a broken moan escapes you. You twist your fingers into his hair as your entire body shudders in response to his enthusiastic movements, your frenzied mind attempting to process the situation. Twenty minutes ago, you were content with the idea of crawling into bed with a tin of shortbread and a good book. And now? Well, if you’re not careful, you’re going to come before things even get started. Loki realizes this and lightly grabs your wrist, removing your hand from his hair and guiding it behind your knee.

“Here,” he says, his hand engulfing yours as he presses it firmly against the back of your trembling thigh. Your pussy clenches at his simple command as you obediently move your legs further apart, contorting your body to his will. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you—all of you—as you settle into the new position, your back relaxing into the softness of the cushions beneath you.

The soles of your feet brace against his clavicles as he dips back between your legs, sucking at the soft flesh along your inner thigh before returning his attention to your core. When his eager tongue glides past your cunt to circle the sensitive area further down, you nearly levitate off the sofa. 

Loki groans as he laps at you, his sinful slurps creating an intoxicating melody in your mind, the Christmas music long forgotten. You choke on air as the calloused pad of his thumb finds your clit, languidly rubbing circles as his tongue continues to explore your hole. The novel sensation is nearly enough to send you over the edge.

Thoughts of experiencing Loki this way had dwelled in the dark recesses of your mind for months now. You’d shamelessly pleaded for it during your last night together all those weeks ago while in the throes of passion. But Loki, with his silver tongue and roguish charm, was infuriatingly persuasive and surprisingly sensible. And so you had agreed to wait.

“Don’t tempt me, little one,” he had coyly responded as he slid the tip of his cock along the curve of your ass, trailing down until he made contact with your cunt. Yet the intensity with which his fingers dug into your hips as you begged for more let you know he wanted it just as much as you did.

“Something to look forward to,” he’d mumbled into your ear as he pressed his firm chest against your back, the sheen of sweat coating your skin intermingling with his as he buried himself inside your cunt for the third time that evening.

Your wait, it seems, is over.

“Norns, you’re divine,” Loki says, lifting his head to peer at you across your heaving torso. He continues rolling his thumb over your clit as he kisses along your stomach, his soft curls falling across your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Shall I keep going?”

“Yes,” you rasp, doing little to conceal the urgent need in your voice. “But don’t we need the–”

You nod toward the bedroom, alluding to the bottle of lube tucked away in your nightstand. But the words catch in the back of your throat as a cool, lubricated finger nudges where Loki’s mouth had just been. You glance down at the god, furrowing your brow as you observe a flash of seidr ignite the space between you. 

“Well, that’s convenient.”

Loki lets out a breathy laugh as he looks up from his spot between your legs, his eyes dark with desire. His raven hair falls in a curtain around his face as his gaze darts back down to your center. 

“I’m giving you exactly what you asked for.” Loki grins, slowly pressing his middle finger inside you. You nearly sob as your anticipation is engulfed by a rush of euphoria.

“I’m giving you all of me,” he adds, an exhilarating ache rippling through your core as a second finger joins the first.

“Oh my god,” you  cry out as the blend of forbidden and familiar pleasure overwhelms your senses. Loki’s fingers steadily move inside you while he licks a wide stripe through your folds and you toss your head back with a hiss. 

“Relax, love,” he says softly, wrapping a large hand behind your knee and guiding it over his shoulder. As you settle into the new position, Loki’s gifted tongue swirls around your throbbing clit, the skillful drag of it sending adrenaline searing through every nerve ending in your body.

“You’re doing so good,” he continues, his voice ragged and deep as he watches you squirm beneath him.

“S-so good,” you echo, keening at his praise. “Loki—fuck—you feel so good.”

He continues to gently move his fingers inside you, pushing deeper with each pump until you feel his palm flatten against your cunt. You slur his name, winding your fingers into his hair once more in an attempt to ground yourself. It doesn’t work. 

“More. Please,” you beg, the words tumbling from your lips without conscious thought. Loki responds by stilling his motions and removing his fingers from you. You huff, pushing yourself up into a seated position and forcing Loki to shuffle onto his knees to avoid sliding off the edge of the sofa. What the hell? 

“Loki…” you caution, your heart wildly beating in your chest as he tauntingly returns your gaze. He simply laughs, clearly amused by your little display of assertiveness.

“Feisty tonight, aren’t we?” he says, hands trailing up your thighs and around the curve of your ass. You both know you’re at his mercy tonight. “I knew I saw your name on the naughty list.” 

“You’re not playing fair.” 

No, he’s just playing on his own terms. Taunting you like he always does—a cat toying with his mouse. 

“I’m merely trying to determine exactly how much more you can take,” he drawls as he nuzzles his nose along your neck.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you respond coyly, running your fingertips along his leather-clad erection.

You know he can see right through you, can sense the way he’s driving you mad. And before you can give your next bratty retort, Loki tightens his grip on your ass and forcefully pulls you toward him. As your bare chest makes contact with his, a shiver rolls down your spine.

“Oh, I think you do,” he says, reveling in the power he possesses. You moan into his mouth as his hands roam your body with a hunger that leaves you breathless. All that matters is the feel of his tongue against yours, the touch of his cool hands on your heated skin. Your pulse quickens as Loki pulls away to admire you, his eyes glazed over with lust. You need him. All of him. Now.

“And I need to hear you say it.”

“I want this, Loki,” you concede breathlessly. “I want you.”

“Words cannot convey how much I want this—want you—in return, my love.” A reassuring smile spreads across his features as he coaxes you to lie back down. Your heartbeat thrums with excitement as you comply with his request, and as you open your legs for him once more, you feel his eyes burning into your skin like a fiery brand.

“You’re sure?” Loki asks quietly, dropping his mask of dominance a moment as he brushes a finger along your slit, skimming the delicate skin between your ass cheeks with the pad of his thumb. 

“Y-yes,” you whimper as he finally—completely—undresses himself in a wave of gold.

Stunning, you think, taking in the vision of Loki kneeling between your legs. His chest heaves with each shallow breath, his cock resting heavy against his muscular thigh. You let out a small whine when his hand leaves your body, wrapping it around the base of his shaft instead. He tosses his head back, and the small grunt that tumbles from his lips as he begins to stroke himself is positively sinful.

“Say it again. Please,” he chokes out, tugging the foreskin over the glistening, swollen head of his cock.

“I need you, Loki,” you say, shifting against the blankets and cushions.

He’s unwaveringly graceful as he guides your legs around his hips, positioning himself above you as the tip of his cock presses into your tight entrance. The pressure is beyond anything you’ve experienced before, and for a fleeting moment, your eyes widen in trepidation. 

“Breathe, darling one.” 

And so you do. Loki guides your breaths as he steadily stretches you to what you’re certain is your limit. You begin to lose yourself as the heady scent of sex wisps through the room like tendrils of Loki’s seidr, entwining with the heightened groans of carnal bliss. 

“Talk to me. Are you okay?” 

“So full. But… but good,” you manage to say, and it’s the truth. As your body relaxes into his movements, everything becomes more comfortable. Your hands graze down his back until they find the firm swell of his ass, pulling him deeper.

Loki growls out an old Norse curse as he bottoms out—his hip bones flush against the back of your thighs. You’ve never taken this much of him before, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You clench in response. 

“My perfect girl,” he praises. With controlled precision, he starts to rock into you and every throbbing inch of his cock drags against your walls in the most delicious way. Soon, his fingers are circling your swollen clit and the pressure in your hips becomes too much to bear.

“So perfect,” he repeats between grunts, your body writhing as he brings you closer and closer to release. Like a caged bird set free, you soar higher and higher, the world spreading beneath you in all its glory as you ascend toward the stars. With one final thrust, you come undone.

Loki presses his forehead to yours as a strangled whimper rips from his throat, his own orgasm quickly following yours. 

You stay like that for a while, a tangle of limbs and heaving breaths on your sofa. Eventually, everything comes back into focus: the fire, the music, the twinkling tree. 

“That was quite the gift,” you say as Loki settles beside you. 

“Certainly, you don’t think that was your only gift?” He tuts and casts you a rakish wink. “Your next surprise awaits you in the bedroom.” 

You giggle as Loki stands and scoops you into his arms. 

“Honestly. What kind of imbecile gives their love only one orgasm on Christmas Eve?” 

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Curses, Potions, and Spells (Oh my)

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Curses

shape me something new by perilously (E, 24k, WangXian, Sharing a Body, set in CQL canon but inspired by the novel, Non-Penetrative Sex, Masturbation, (kind of), Slight Canon Divergence, some horror-adjacent imagery)

come home to my heart by occultings (microcomets) (M, 29k, WangXian, Bodyswap, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Misunderstandings, and a little bit of hurt/comfort as a treat)

See Me, Feel Me (Listening to You) by Ghost_Honey (T, 29k, WangXian, POV WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX’s Abyssmal Self-Esteem, Emotional Healing, Angst, The Juniors love their Senior Wei, Curses, WWX is an Unreliable Narrator, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling)

Turn Left by kianspo (M, 204k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, eventually, references to child sexual abuse, not main characters,  Neurodivergent LWJ, Slow Build, Lán Family Feels, specifically, Twin Jades of Lán Feels, lwj-centric, Twin Jades of Lán Dynamics, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

You'd Break Your Heart to Make It Bigger by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 32k, WangXian, soulbonding, First Time, Case Fic if You Squint, Fools in Love, soul boning, soft fools in love, Pining while fucking)

This Lantern Shines For You by apollonie (M, 10k, WangXian, Hanahaki Disease, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Pining WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, LWJ is a Disaster Gay)

leading tone by silencemostofall (G, 32k, WangXian, Modern AU, Soulmates, with a lil twist, Eventual Happy Ending, lesbian wq rights, Music, Orchestra, platonic and romantic pining)

pastel by antebunny (G, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Soulmates, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unrequited Love, but not actually, no courtesy names)

Stainless by Fahye (E, 6k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Yuletide Treat)

as amber of ember glows by occultings (microcomets) (E, 11k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, First Time, Miscommunication, Aphrodisiacs, pining for the person you're fucking, Getting Together, mostly)

miss me once the thrill expires by idrilka (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern With Cultivation, Getting Together, Pining while fucking, Curses, Sex Pollen, Rimming, Multiple Orgasms, first time barebacking, Face-Fucking)

Say So by FeelsForBreakfast (E, 15k, WangXian, Sex Pollen, Fucking Your Best Friend, Light Dom/sub, extreme orgasm denial wanxgian edition, Dirty Talk, Love Confessions)

🔒Embers by xantissa (E, 38k, WangXian, XiXian, WangXianXi, Jadecest, Angst, drama, Fluff, Falling In Love, sex pollen trope (curse), dub con, Comfort, Grief, Forgiveness, Happy Ending, Sibling Incest, Switching, Flirting, Learning to live again, Magic, Curses, Everyone is Badass, lwj has a sense of humor, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - M/M/M, Slow Burn, Angst and Hurt/Comfort)

a safe pair of hands by occultings (microcomets) (E, 11k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Body Worship, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Sharing a Bed, Getting Together, First Time, Curses, Intimacy, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved LWJ)

So Why Not Crack Your Skull When the Mind Swells by greenteafiend (E, 13k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Curses, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Confessions, Drunkenness)

❤️ to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 35k, wangxian, angst w/ happy ending, soulmates, chronic illness, hanahaki disease as a curse, feelings realization, angst, fluff, smut)

🔒How to Seduce the Yiling Patriarch by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 8k, wangxian, post-canon, temporary amnesia, case fic, fluff & humor, crack treated seriously, angst, jealous WWX, YLLZ WWX, gusu lan junior dynamics, mild gore)

Your Hand in Mine by cerbykerby (T, 20k, WangXian, Humor, Comedy, Pining, cursed to hold hands, Light Angst, Sharing a Bed, First Dates, Embarrassment, Fluff, bathing together, wwx is a menace to society, and lwj Suffers A Lot, Canon Compliant)

with such a suffering, such a deadly life by cqlorphan (T, 7k, wangxian, post-canon, curses, curse breaking, getting together, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, affection, touch-starved LWJ, LWJ whump, cuddling & snuggling, love confessions)

in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, cloud recesses, NHS & LWJ friendship, developing relationship, LWJ pov, minor injuries, autistic LWJ, implied/referenced child abuse, aka YZY warning, genius WWX, light angst, hurt/comfort, WWX protection squad)

Of Curses and Cottontails by Alliandra (T, 15k, wangxian, canon divergence, burial mounds settlement days, curses, animal transformation, rabbit LWJ, angry bunji, fluff & humor, fix-it, golden core reveal)

🧡 Discarded by teawater (E, 169k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it's not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

Under every sky, in every way by naqaashi (M, 13k, wangxian, curses, curse breaking, mermaids, fix-it of sorts, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, secrets, confessions, hurt/comfort, golden core transfer fix-it, genius WWX)

Lover's Curse by littlesystems (E, 15k, WangXian, Fuck Or Die, Dubcon implicit in fuck or die, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Cultivation Sect Politics, Brotherly Meddling, WWX Has a Rape/Non-Con Kink, Bruising, Overstimulation)

The Heart Always Remembers by thelamespaceace (G, 45k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Deaged LSZ, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, Angst)

🧡 moonlight caught in mutton fat by Raitelzen (T, 45k, WangXian, Case Fic, Curses, Curse Breaking, Transformation, mild body horror, Hurt LWJ, Ghosts)

A Curse of a Different Color by nickel710 (G, 35k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, Curses, Curse Breaking, Asexual polyamory, Repressed LWJ, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drunk LWJ, Falling In Love, WWX Being an Idiot, Non-explicit vomit, just a tiny reference to it, Anxiety)

🔒 the cow says moo, the chicken says squawk, and the demon beast of yiling says by Dragonskye (T, 57k, wangxian, Ensemble Cast, Animal Transformation, Angst with a Happy Ending, kind of a glucose guardian vibe actually, Fairy Tale Elements, Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, they're soft, Secret Identity, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining)

The Sun Will Rise series by vespertineflora (E, 129k, wangxian, Fantasy, Fairy Tale Elements, Human/Monster Romance, Tentacle Monsters, Plant Monsters, Tentacle Sex, vine sex, Vines, Monster LWJ, Human WWX, Mildly Dubious Consent, Consensual Non-Consent, Eventual Romance, Slow Romance, Happy Ending, Groping, Edgeplay, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Prostate Massage, First Time, Multiple Orgasms, The Cloud Recesses Rabbits, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Homesickness, Angst, Comfort/Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Canon-Typical Violence, WWX Has a Rape/Non-Con Kink, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, Overstimulation, BAMF WWX, Stabbing, Near Death, Poisoning, Protective LWJ, Seduction, Aphrodisiacs, Snow and Ice, ,Snowball Fight, Lost Love, Falling In Love, Drunken Kissing, Sex Pollen, Submission, Subspace, Multiple Penetration, Love Confessions, full body restraint, Emotional Sex, Reincarnation, Sounding, Urethral Play, Prostate Massage, Multiple Orgasms, Shameless Smut)

🧡 Kitty-cat by canis_lupus (E, 78k, WIP, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, dom LWJ, Sub WWX, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Jiang Family Dynamics, Abusive Jiang Family, POV Multiple, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, Masturbation)

Breaking the Silence by Leffy (E, 4k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut, 69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Rimming, Come as Lube, temporary mute wwx is still a gremlin)

~*~

Potions (includes poisons)

Losing My Mind by pupeez4eva (T, 6k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Humor, Protective JC, JC drinks a potion that lets him hear people's lustful thoughts, Teenage LWJ has a lot of feelings, Canon Divergence, Cloud Recesses study arc)

🔒Truths Laid Bare For All by Preludian_Staves (T, 42k, wangxian, arranged marriage, not Jiang friendly, truth serum, love confessions, golden core reveal, implied referenced abuse, getting to know each other, genius WWX, falling in love, courting, WIP)

pomegranates for the softest parts of you by AvoOwO (M, 24k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Fluff and Angst, LWJ Has a Crush, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, Courting Rituals, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Poisoning, Dorks in Love, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Mind Manipulation, Manipulation, JC and LWJ Dislike Each Other, Good Sibling JC, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt, Supportive LXC, Supportive Sibling LXC, Good Uncle LQR, LQR Metaphorically Qì-Deviates, Mentioned Madam Lán, Blood, Fainting, Soft WangXian, Cute WangXian, Dubious Consent, Feelings Realization)

Truth to Tell by SequoiaSempervirens (M, 3k, WangXian, Getting Together, First Kiss, Fluff, silliness, Truth Serum, Kidnapping, Worried LWJ, Protective LWJ)

🔒After Truth Lies the Honest Path by Vrishchika (M, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Truth Serum, Angry WWX, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Mild Angst, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Getting Together)

Potion by UglyBeautiful (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern AU, Canon Divergence, College/University, Witchcraft, Love Potion/Spell, Idiots in Love, LWJ Has a Big Dick, LWJ has a very dirty mind, Anal Sex, Rimming, Compulsory Heterosexuality, licking vegan marshmallow paste off a naked body, Happy Ending, Scheming NHS, Ghost familiar with many guises NHS)

Love potion and a remedy for the heart. by satans_dolly_boy666 (G, 2k, XiXian, WangXian, Love Potion/Spell, Misunderstandings, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Brotherly Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Friendship/Love, Declarations Of Love, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Jealous LWJ, Protective LXC, Oblivious WWX, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Supportive Sibling LXC, Soft LXC, Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Eventual WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Crack, Attempt at Humor)

scope and limitations by mercurials (T, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, chemistry major wwx, Love Potion/Spell, Fluff, Mutual Pining)

At the bottom of the bottle, you're the poison in the wine by KatAnni (T, 11k, wangxian, JC & WWX & JYL, WWX & WQ, Fainting, Angst, Poisoning, JZN is an asshole, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, a little poisoning will solve all your problems!, Hurt/Comfort, POV Multiple, Attempted Murder, Everyone Lives AU, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence)

~*~

Spells (includes talismans/arrays)

The Way It Wasn't by KouriArashi (T, 72k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, (eventually haha), Slow Build, Family Feels, Moral Ambiguity, Eventual Happy Ending)

Wearing Down Every Bone by CSHfic, VSfic (E, 30k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Time Loop, Temporary Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Curses, Pining, Getting Together, Time Travel, Night Hunts, Hurt wwx, Mystery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Use Your Words, Mutual Pining, Depression and Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, gratuitous use of empathy)

hope dangling by a string by KouriArashi (M, 70k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, everyone lives, angst w happy ending, hurt/comfort, psychic bond, telepathy, communication, emotional/psychological abuse, jiang family feels, lan family feels, canon-typical violence, canon-typical politics, improper use of sacred forehead ribbons, gratuitous hair washing)

🔒I am sorry for taking your voice by misterfish (G, 8k, WIP, WWX/OMC, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, Remorse LWJ, Mute WWX, Jiāng Family Bashing, Past Child Abuse)

Couldn't Scream Couldn't Shout by mermorgie (T, 42k, WIP, WangXian, Not for jc stans, Muteness, Sign Language, references to selective mutism, Homophobic JC, canon jc characteristics, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Anxiety Attacks, Pining, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Supportive Sibling LXC, JZX Tries, LQR Tries, Protective JZX, Scheming NHS, Bisexual JZX, LWJ is Bad at Communicating, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Jiāng Family Bashing)

Quartet series by WithBroomBefore (T, 69k wangxian, JZX & JC & WWX & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, WWX's canonical comfort with the prospect of his own death, Hurt/Comfort, JZX makes friends, Eventual Happy Ending, some unhappiness along the way, Canon-Typical Violence, JC keeps his golden core, JYL Lives, WQ Lives, Minor Character Death, Kissing, WWX Lives, no golden core transfer, JZX Lives, Fix-It, WN Lives, Weeping, temporary major character death, Murder Road Trip, Implied Sexual Content, Sunshot Campaign, Nonbinary NHS, Telepathy, platonic group soulbonding, Family, Found Family, POV WWX, Podfic Available, Siblings Sworn Brothers, aroace JZX, Happy Ending, all the Wen remnants live, POV JZX, JGY is less murdery, Asexual Character, Aromantic Character, JZX's social awkwardness, Poison)

on his best bee-haviour (pun very much intended) by HeavenlySkyfarer (T, 4k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Modern With Cultivation, Humor, Fluff, Good Uncle LQR, Gremlin WWX, Bees, Established WangXian)

all the broken things that I made by ilip13 (E, 43k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Lovers To Enemies, (then back to lovers I'm not a monster), Dubcon Kissing, Dubious Consent, But mostly not in the way you might expect - see notes for details, Explicit Sexual Content, Bondage, Flirting, Competence Kink)

~*~

[assortedseaglass]

🌟Mistletoe | Yuletide🌟

Michael Gavey x Fem!Reader

Summary: Michael's Christmas plans are scuppered, but a chance encounter lifts his hopes for the New Year.

Content: Fluff, Language.

Yuletide Masterlist

December 15th. The night of the Catton Christmas party in Brasenose College. Term ended a week ago, but the prospect of partying with the university’s hottest boy and his gaggle of gorgeous followers was too delicious to pass up. Freshers to third-years clamoured to rub shoulders with the prime ministers and business men of tomorrow. Any way to get your foot in the door, and maybe some Christmas action too.

The single-pane windows of the old college dorm room rattled to the beat of NOW XMAS, and each time the door opened a pair of drunk undergrads tumbled into the quadrangle.

The latest two, a straw-haired girl in a Juicy Couture tracksuit and a burly boy wearing a rugby polo, stumbled from the old double doors leading to the common room. On their way, between sloppy kiss and over the top giggles, they bumped into a solitary figure.

“Sorry, mate,” the drunk boy said, watching the other young man through alcohol-heavy eyes. The girl beside him eyed the stranger and snorted. “Merry Christmas.”

Hands tucked into his pockets, scarf wrapped neatly around his neck, Michael Gavey stumbled. The pair got no reply, only a cold glance of annoyance as he made for his dorm.

Gold, string-light bulbs decorated Brasenose quadrangle, tacky Christmas trees were perched in various student windows, and the saccharine chorus of Band Aid 20 was shouted from the common room.

Michael didn’t hate Christmas. He quite enjoyed the fuss from his aunties and the jumpers his grandmother bought him. His mum snuck extra roasties onto his plate and his dad made a point to buy him each year’s Telegraph Quiz Book. This year would surely be even better. The pride on his family’s faces, each asking about his first term at Oxford. First one in his family to go to university and he gets into Oxford.

It was precisely because he liked Christmas that this one was so miserable. Michael was neither surprised nor upset when he checked his pigeonhole that morning to see no invitation to the Catton Christmas part. Him and Oliver. A pair of nobodies.

He took the new Nokia his dad got him for his A Levels out of his pocket. No texts. Punching the numbered keys, he sent one to Oliver.

Back at BC. Mince pies and port ready.

The corridor to his dorm room was empty. With the turn of his key, he opened the door. The room was cold. The ancient radiator was ticking into life and the old windows were beginning to fog with condensation. On top of his stack of maths textbooks a bottle of unopened port gleamed.

Turning on his bedside lamp, Michael gathered two dusty glasses his mother insisted he pack with him, and from his Tesco bag produced a pack of mince pies. He placed them on a paper plate and emptied the rest of the carrier bag (wallet, keys, pencil case, workbook) next to the E45 cream and battered copy of GH Hardy’s biography.

The Nokia buzzed aggressively on the table. Removing his scarf, Michael checked the screen. It was from Oliver. He unlocked the phone and checked the small envelope icon.

Something’s come up, sorry.

Michael slumped on the bed. His thumb hovered over the keypad.

Get a better offer, did you?

He deleted the text, locked the screen and threw it on the cheap duvet.

The others would still be at the pub. He could just go back and meet them there. Could, were it not for his pride. It just wasn’t the same, a group of people forced together, as opposed to those who found each other.

The pub was full of his fellow mathematics students. Spotty, eager to please and reeking of desperation to prove themselves. Michael didn’t need to. He watched as they fought for Professor Mathison’s attention, keen to discuss tutorial projects and career prospects. Mathison was already keenly aware of Michael, judging by the way his jaw dropped when Michael recited the Lagrangian form to the last letter.

With Oliver it was different. They were two outsiders, making their way in a world entirely foreign to their own, their intellect their only way in. Now it seemed the friendship Michael was working so hard to cultivate with Oliver was slipping away.  

He stared at the empty glasses. Fuck it. Pouring a little too much port in one of the glasses, Michael stuffed a mince pie into his mouth, grabbed another and made for the door.

The air was crisp, but mild for mid-December. The music of the Catton party across the quadrangle had mellowed, and through the misty windows Michael could make out shapes dancing close together, swaying slowly.

A pang of jealousy twisted in his naval and he twitched awkwardly. He wondered what it would be like, having another body pressed against his. Or rather, to have someone want to be that close to him. His mind flashed to the French girl in tutorial. She’d pressed her leg against his at the pub when Mathison mentioned a partnered project for the new year, and when he’d looked down, he saw her fingers brushing the cuff of his jumper. He’d flinched away.

Everyone was doing it. Quick flings with no regard for consequence. He supposed he could do it too. With the French girl, or the girl with agoraphobia. Lord knows, she was getting as much action as he was. But there was something in his studious nature, his desire for knowledge, that meant he had to be consumed by knowing someone fully, or nothing at all.

Perching his bony bottom on the cold concrete step under an old brick archway, Michael took a gulp of port and began on the mince pie. He took the top off, ate it, and thought of his grandfather, and how he would add brandy butter before replacing the pastry cover. He ate the rest quickly and sipped his port slowly, thinking over the last term. The successes; far and away the best student on the course, and the failures; one (?) friend. It was as he did this that the door behind him opened.

“Shit, sorry! Didn’t see you there!” You hadn’t done anything wrong. Not opened the door on his back or tripped over him. Michael waved his hand noncommittally and without answer. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

He looked up at this. An old grey coat at least a size too big was wrapped around you, a scarf pulled up to your nose and muffling your voice. Michael couldn’t make much of you out, just the eyes peering down at him from above the scarf, but he could tell you were beaming at him. Why?

He gestured to the cold step. You sat beside him, gave him a bright smile that didn’t falter when he stared at you a little too long, and turned to look at the night beyond the small archway.

“Pretty, aren’t they? All the lights?” Michael didn’t respond. He shifted his body slightly away from yours and took another sip of port. You weren’t deterred. “You a Billy-no-mates too then?”

“It’s Norman-no-mates-”

“I don’t think it matters.” You cut him off. “Well?”

Michael turned his face to you. You were still watching the lights but sensed him looking at you. In turn, you looked back at him, unabashed and direct.

“I might have mates waiting inside.”

“You might, but you don’t. You’re out here drinking wine,”

“Port.”

“Port’s just fortified wine. Drinking on your own when everyone’s off partying.”

Michael didn’t blink as he watched you. You weren’t being cruel by making him feel bad for his social ineptitude. Nor were you prying into what it was that made him so deplorable to seemingly everyone in college. No. You were just stating the facts. Michael loved facts.

“NFI.”

“Snap.” You held out your hand and gave him your name. Michael’s heart didn’t leap, but it did give a strange sort of jolt.

“Michael Gavey.” He shook yours and his mouth twitched when you gave him a firm smile.

“What about you? Why are you sitting on a cold step with a stranger?”

“Mate’s back there screaming at her fella cos he necked some girl in Exeter after a Hooch too many.”

“Let me guess, Business Management?”

“The very same.”

There was a contented silence a while. Michael sipped his port and watched you from the corner of his eye. The fingerless gloves you wore were fraying a little. Everything looked second hand. From your slightly battered Mary Janes and baggy jeans to the bag by your feet. Even the scarf still wrapped around your neck. The hair there was bunching under the fabric and a few wisps kept sticking to your lip gloss. Too pretty to be sitting with him, and too rough around the edges to be the usual Catton-fodder.

Michael licked his lips. “What are you reading?” Please be something good.

“Computer Sciences.” Merry fucking Christmas. “You?”

“Maths.”

“Ah, we could have done with you at the pub quiz! ‘How many birds in total are there in the twelve days o-’”

“One-hundred and eighty-four.” Michael rattled off as though the answer was a grocery list. You stared at him, an impressed smile playing at the corner of your mouth. Michael’s heart vaulted that time. He wanted more.

“Ask me anything. I can do any sum.”

You eyed him with barely supressed glee. “Twelve times thirty-one.”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two. Come on, ask me something harder.”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two times eight.”

“Harder.”

“Times twenty-three?”

“Harder.”

You almost shouted with excitement. “Three-hundred and seventy-two times forty-seven!”

“Seventeen-thousand, four hundred and eighty-four.”

You giggled and let out a low whistle. “Fuck me,”

Yes please.

A broad flush spread across Michael’s cheeks and he licked his lips again. “I can also-”

“Better check madam is ok,” your eyes indicated behind you as you took you phone from your pocket. The white light from the small screen was garish amongst the soft golds of the Christmas lights, and Michael’s heart sank as he watched you scroll through your contacts list. So many names. He’d give anything to be among.

He didn’t pay attention to anything you were saying as you chatted to your friend. The shine of your lip gloss beneath the fairy lights was too mesmerising. Michael raised his port glass to his lips, took a sip and let the glass linger there as you ended your call. He was entranced.

“Love you, mate. Alright, chat tomorrow.” You sighed as you hung up and looked at Michael. “Home for me, I think.”

As you stood, Michael did too, pulling his trousers up and tucking his hands into his pockets. “Nice to meet you, Michael.” You shook his free hand again and took the port from the other. He watched, agog, as you downed it in one. “Graham’s? Very nice.” You passed him the empty glass and began making your way to the end of the archway. He followed you like a shadow.

At the end of the passageway into the old quadrangle you turned to face him. “What are you doing for Christmas, Michael?”

“Home,” his voice was unnaturally high and he coughed. “Home, to see family but not much else.”

“And new year?”

“Seeing some boring old school friends then back here before term st-starts-starts,” you were leaning towards him. With no hint of shyness, and perhaps a little too forcefully, you kissed him. You pulled back, smiling.

“What was that for?” The surprise of your lips on his made him shout, and it sounded more hysterical than genuine shock and curiosity.

“Mistletoe,” you stated simply, pointing at the small poesy hanging from the archway.

Michael coughed. “Of course, yeah. Thank you.” He made an odd movement and almost clicked his heels. You laughed again, turning into the dark night.

“See you in the new year, Michael.” Your voice echoed off the old stone walls. Just as Michael expected, you sounded so certain. In all your ten minutes of knowing each other, he’d learned that about you. The statement wasn’t speculation or conjecture. It was a fact. Michael loved facts.

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope it's been a kind and calm one. H x

The usual suspects: @arcielee @targaryenrealnessdarling @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @ellrond @cyeco13 @babyblue711 @exitpursuedbyavulcan @humanpurposes @myfandomprompts @barbieaemond @anjelicawrites

[kingkatsuki]

— when you play secret santa

Masterlist.

Warnings: kinda angsty, not proofread.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.5k.

There are a multitude of things Bakugou Katsuki hates about the festive period. The freezing temperatures that make it difficult to use his quirk and leave him shivering on patrols, the fake hallmark bullshit that corporations try to sell during the holidays (he deliberately refuses any Yuletide collaborations for this exact reason), the way people seem to only care now it’s Christmas, the crowds and one of the worst things…

Forced fun.

Every year the Dynamight agency arrange a secret Santa, and every year Bakugou refuses to participate. Just another bullshit, meaningless waste of time during the festive period, and he never has any idea what to get anyone anyway.

But this year is different, because this year you worked at his agency. Bakugou groans as he looks down at the piece of paper with a name scribbled on it, his secret santa.

When you asked him one evening as you were leaving if he was going to participate in the secret santa event, he was going to reply with a scoff. Wondering why on earth you were asking him such a ridiculous question, what would give you the idea that Dynamight would want to do secret santa? But it was the adorable, hopeful look in your eyes that had his throat going dry and his heart palpitating as he stopped dead in his tracks. The words leaving his lips before he could even stop it— yeah, I am.

Bakugou hated the way your cheeks seemed to glow at his response, how happy you looked that this year he would be participating.

And that’s why he now found himself with a piece of paper in his hands with a name that wasn’t yours.

He didn’t even know who the fuck it was! Apparently after searching his employee database it was a lady in admin. Now stuck with trying to find a workplace regulation gift in between the long holiday shifts, maybe he’d get one of his sidekicks to get a gift for her instead.

How foolish he’d been to think that he’d get your name, that after all the shit he’d been through in his life that fate would grant him a free pass this once and give him the gift of you. But as always, the odds were against him. Crumpling up the piece of paper with a groan as he threw it onto his desk, tugging his glasses off to rub the balls of his hands into his eyes.

But perhaps he could swap with someone…

Finding out who had you was proving near impossible, it had been easy to get his sidekicks to announce to him who they had for the secret Santa, but everyone else in the agency was proving to be rather tight lipped. Whether it was the fear of their boss, or the fact that one of them may have him, he’d near but given up hope of swapping to get you.

“It’s supposed to be a secret, Bro.” Kirishima shook his head as he tucked into his bento box, a mouthful of rice slurring his words.

“I don’t give a shit, who ya got?” Bakugou pointed his chopsticks holding a piece of Gyoza towards Kirishima before shoving it into his mouth.

“I can’t tell you! It’ll ruin the whole thing,” Kirishima shook his head, “What if I’ve got you?”

“You ain’t got me.” Bakugou knew who had him already, it was a poor man from the cyber security department who seemed terrified when he’d revealed the big secret to the man himself.

“How do you know?” Kirishima sat back in his seat, “Man, this is why you never participate isn’t it? You don’t like fun.”

“I like fun,” Bakugou scrunched his nose in mock offence, “I hate surprises.” He mumbled, and truth be told, he hated not having you more.

“Well, I’ve already bought my gift so I can’t switch.” Kirishima grinned and Bakugou raised a surprised eyebrow.

For how generous and altruistic Kirishima was, he wasn’t usually this prepared. Often ignoring deadlines and leaving things until the last minute which would often result in him racing around like a headless chicken.

“Why don’t you just get her a gift anyway, man? I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

“I can’t do that.” He shot back, glaring across the table.

There was no way he could get you a gift out of the blue, even if it was for Christmas. Being the only person in the agency outside of the secret santa that he’d purchased a gift for would make it completely obvious that he’s in love with you, and the thought of your rejection made him blanch.

“Yeah, you can.” Kirishima continued, “You were gonna get her something if she was your secret santa anyway, so what’s the difference?”

It was a huge difference, it would mean the gift he’d give you separately was far more personal… Even if he would’ve gifted you the exact same thing.

“Doesn’t matter.” Bakugou grumbled.

“Just wait it out man, and think positive. She might have you!” Kirishima smiled as he took a long sip of his protein shake.

The thought of you holding a piece of paper with his name on it had Bakugou feeling all giddy inside, trying to stop the ridiculous smile from tugging on the side of his lips as he pictured you going out to shop for a gift for him. Wrapping it and writing his name on it to gift it to him on Christmas Eve.

It was the only thought keeping him sane the closer it got to the day, finally acquiring his gift late after one patrol as he bought an obnoxiously Christmassy gift bag to place it inside as he brought it back to his agency. Scribbling the recipient onto the tag as he left it with the other gifts sitting beneath the outlandish tree. Bakugou wanted to look for your name in the huge pile, wondering if he could find out who actually had you or what the gift was but instead he made his way to the locker rooms. Tired bones aching from his arduous patrol as he made his way to shower before the annual Dynamight agency Christmas party, refusing to wear a Christmas jumper as he opted for a plain cable knit burnt orange sweater instead.

Turning up to the party late meant that most people had already opened their gifts, the loud bustle hitting him as he weaved through the crowds. Reaching out to grab a flute of champagne as he took a healthy sip as he gave polite nods to his staff that wished him a “Merry Christmas” as he walked through, not wanting to make it obvious that he was looking for you.

Giving up as he spotted the familiar red mop of his best friends hair hidden beneath a bright red Santa hat as he made a beeline towards him. Bakugou’s heart instantly sped up when he noticed who was standing beside him.

His heart fluttered at the sight of you, a gorgeous smile on your face as you seemed to hang on Kirishima’s every word. Handing him the glass you were holding as he handed you a gift in return. Was Kirishima your secret Santa all along?

The familiar ache returned to his chest at the sight, something he’d never experienced until he met you. His adam’s apple bobbing as he watched you slowly begin to tear open the messily wrapped present. He could make out the garish paper from across the room as Kirishima leaned in to gage your reaction, a huge grin on his face.

Bakugou couldn’t even be mad that Kiri got you as a secret Santa and didn’t tell him because the way your face lights up at whatever Kiri got you makes his heart palpitate. You’re so beautiful.

But he can’t avoid the hurt that aches in his chest or the way he feels his throat tighten as he watches how happy another man has made you, wishing it was him that made you look that happy instead.

Lifting his glass up to his lips he downs the rest of his champagne before placing the glass back onto the table, ignoring the lone present sitting beneath the large Dynamight tree addressed to him as he makes his way out of the room, his head down to avoid catching anyone’s gaze as he leaves.

Maybe he should’ve got you a present after all.

But if Bakugou had stuck around the office party, he would’ve seen what Kirishima gifted to you as your secret Santa, and the real reason why you were smiling. The horribly wrapped gift was actually a framed photograph of you and Bakugou at a press interview for Dynamight’s agency. Your eyes gazing up at him in adoration as you both smiled softly at something the other had said while you both acted like you were the only two in the world.

[sailtomarina]

The Pansy Side of Fire

Pansy x Charlie| @hp-yuletide-bliss Day 10: “Stay home with me.” | WC 1814 | Rating: T

She’d double and triple checked the potion stores, and still Pansy searched for another reason to stay inside and avoid the inevitable walk back to her cabin. The window outside the Hospital Ward showed falling Christmas Eve snow, ceaseless since early that morning. Maybe she could just hibernate here until spring.

She turned her eyes to the stretch of room before her. They only had space for a few beds, two of which were occupied with their slumbering patients. The likelihood of another poor sod finding the third was much too high given the dragon keepers’ propensity for fire.

No. She would find no home here. It was her cabin, or the floor, and she missed her flannel sheets with a ferocity that begged relief. Who knew the unbecoming material made such an excellent companion for Romania’s winter nights?

Pansy gathered up her belongings, assured that the patients would be well taken care of by her fellow Healer.

Cloak, check.

Gloves, check.

Muffler, check.

She topped the ensemble off with her strongest warming charm and set off.

Holy Circe and her Glorious Tits!

The initial blast of air to her face knocked down the hood of her cloak and sent her sleek bob into a whirlwind. She scrambled to regain control of the fabric, tugging it down her face and hunching against the wind as she made her way towards her destination. Whoever it was that planned the layout of the dragon reserve had much to answer for–it made absolutely no sense that the Healers were situated so far away from the Hospital Ward. 

Each step was hampered by the thick snow rising to her knees. She’d melt a path, if not for the rules guarding against unnecessary magic outside of buildings and emergencies. The energy ran the risk of attracting the attention of the inhabitant dragons, who were sensitive to the slightest fluctuations in their environment. Pansy would make do one step at a time. It wasn’t the worst she’d experienced.

At least she had her winter wear and charms to protect her. She shuddered at the thought of going without either, like the Muggle residents of the closest village to the reserve. On the rare occasion that she joined Melody, her fellow Healer, and the reserve employees for a drink at the pub, they all had to forgo excessive magic there, as well, so as to blend in. It wouldn’t do for locals to wonder how they could walk around in the cold with barely any protection.

“Pansy!”

She turned at the sound of her name towards a face she found uncomfortably attractive. He still wore his keeper uniform, leathers worn and shiny, stretching over ridiculous amounts of muscle that he showed off without even attempting to, leaning as he was against the railing of his own cabin.

Charles Weasley.

“Why don’t you join me for dinner?” he asked. Intense blue eyes held her own, and Pansy was tempted to accept.

She’d been tempted by him almost from the very first day she’d transferred to the reserve.

What little she had known of the wizard prior to her assignment came from legends at Hogwarts of a talented Seeker, a passionate advocate for magical creatures, and, of course, his family’s infamous hair and loyalties. She didn’t recall much of him when he visited Fourth Year during the Triwizard Tournament; she’d been too caught up in her petty obsession with Granger at the time.

The sight of Weasley standing alongside his fellow keepers as they were introduced struck her to this day. He’d stood confidently, arms crossed over his chest, not quite as tall as some but definitely the broadest. The thick muscles of his upper body fit the width of his shoulders and were offset by a trim waist that made clear how such a large man could fly circles around any and all competition. 

She’d kept her cool as they were introduced, treating him like everyone else with a detached professionalism. Parkinson witches did not show interest in Weasleys, no matter how attractive they might be.

Her resolve was tested her first day on the floor when he showed up with a fresh burn and a smile that set her knickers aflame.

How dare he look that good, covered in dust and blood as he was?

How dare he make her laugh with just a look and a comment. It was like he had a direct line to her particular brand of morbid humor. He’d shown her an old scar that he said reminded him of her namesake with how the edges rounded and changed color closer to the center.

She looked at him now, at the long red locks barely held in place by a tie and the figure he cut against the backdrop of his front door. 

“If you let me Floo home from yours, then you have a deal.”

There. That wasn’t too obvious, was it? She was simply interested in lessening her journey outdoors, and he presented the perfect solution.

“Sure, sure. Come on in from the cold.” His grin told her the ploy was not only recognized, but inconsequential. He’d offered, and she’d accepted. Simple as that.

He held the door open for her to step through first, and not even her warming charms could negate the relief she felt as the harsh winds were shut out and she was enveloped in the golden glow of the roaring fire in the hearth. 

“Charles Weasley, did you anticipate my acceptance?” She turned a suspicious eye his way. Given the state of the front room and the table already laden with dishes set for two and holly-wreathed candlesticks, he’d been prepared for company long before she happened by. Since when did he have the time to prepare everything? 

His eyes twinkled in merriment, but he said nothing, merely holding his hands out to take her belongings.

With a huff, she surrendered her satchel and shrugged off her cloak, turning to hang them on the charming wooden hooks near the door carved into the shape of dragon heads. She stepped closer to inspect them.

“Who made these?” They were remarkably realistic. She could easily tell each from the other, one a Swedish Short-Snout, then a Chinese Fireball, a Welsh Green, and a Hebridean Black. She chose the Antipodean Opaleye for her outerwear. She’d always admired their iridescent eyes.

“Oh, that’s my work.”

She swung back around in surprise, and he nearly preened at the attention.

“Well, well, Weasley, who knew you were such an artist,” she mused, her opinions of him once again adjusting for the favorable.

“I cook a mean roast, too,” he replied with a wink, gesturing towards the open chair he’d pulled out.

He waited until she sat, pressing the chair back in like a gentleman, before taking his own. It was the first she’d been afforded such manners since coming to Romania. There really hadn’t been any reason for it given the Mess Hall and its long benches. 

“Here, let me,” he offered, leaning forward to take the carving knife in hand.

“Not too large, please,” a request to which he winked and she flushed. Men.

Once their plates were full and they’d commenced eating, Pansy soon lost herself in conversation with the dragon keeper, his conversation easily flowing from one topic to the next. She’d known from his initial visit to the ward that he was bright, but she hadn’t realized just how well studied he was until now. He answered any and all of her questions regarding his work, and made several observations of his own in regards to the changes she’d made to the Hospital Ward since her transfer.

“We haven’t had any supply issues since you arrived. The potions you provide have been invaluable over the past months. I swear they’re more effective, too.”

Well, of course, they were. She brewed them herself whenever possible.

Regardless, she had near-daily visitations in the ward for everything from minor burns, to deep lacerations, and even severe concussions. Dragon work was life threatening no matter how many potions she shoved down their throats or how tirelessly she healed wound after wound.

“It is my job,” she said dryly.

“Still, we’ve had plenty of Healers in the past who were satisfied with the bare minimum. You actively go out of your way to ensure our safety, or get as close as possible to it.” He reached out to place his hand on hers where it rested against the table, and she stilled. 

Her plate was empty, the last drop of wine finished long ago. There wasn’t any reason why she should linger any longer.

“I should probably go.”

Bright eyes studied her, and Pansy wished she could take the words back. What if–

“Stay home with me.”

A breath caught in her throat.

Surely she misheard him?

“I’m sorry?” Her hand curled into a fist beneath his palm.

He responded by wrapping his large hand around hers in a brief squeeze. Heat worked up her arm and sent a pulse straight to her core.

“Stay home with me, at least for a while longer. I’d like to keep talking with you. Consider it my Christmas gift,” he quietly asked. He maintained eye contact, and Pansy wondered if this must be what it was like to be one of his dragons, enchanted by his overwhelming presence and unable to look away. She couldn’t help but be charmed by him.

She could reject him, make him work for it, like one of the more willful dragons. Pansy had a feeling he wouldn’t mind a bit of fire, that he might even relish it. She’d seen him in action and now knew why he held such a high rank among the other keepers. It wasn’t because he’d been at it the longest; it was because of his knowledge, his perseverance, his undying devotion to their wellbeing. He was tenacious in every aspect of their lives, and it showed.

Call it weariness, or simple loneliness during the holidays, but Pansy was tired of fighting. She’d lived her whole life presenting one face of Pansy Parkinson, and look what it had brought her: the scorn of most of her peers, difficulty landing a job anywhere near home, and now her current employment in the last place she thought she’d ever find herself. Her mother would cry over the callouses on her palms and fingers.

What if she said yes? What if she touched him back, like she wanted to? Would he prefer a fiery Pansy, instead? Maybe, she could be fiery in another way.

She flipped her hand and curled her fingers around his own.

His eyes lit up.

“Don’t you dare gloat, Charles Weasley.”

Amusement danced across his face in the form of a wide smile and dimples that deeply dotted each of his cheeks. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Cross-posted on Tumblr and AO3.

I really, really like Charlie and Pansy individually, so wondered how they might be together. I think they’d get on, don’t you?

[lotties-ashwagandha]

YULETIDE REFLECTIONS (nsfw)

word count: 2.3k

pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

summary: you get jealous of the attention lottie’s not giving you at a christmas party, so she makes it up to you

You’d never been so bored in your entire life. You had thought it would be an amazing idea when presented to you, but as you sat at the bar watching the seconds tick lazily by, you were second guessing all of it.

Lottie had decided to host a Christmas party at the wellness center. It was some ploy for new members, and while you were all for expanding the community and helping out, the process had proved horrendous. Parties made you nervous and you didn’t like being around such an excruciating amount of people you didn’t know.

It wasn’t to say that everything wasn’t beautiful — all of the holiday decorations were gorgeous, and everyone was cheerful and festive, but Lottie had abandoned you to go talk to possible new clients and out of boredom you had banished yourself to the bar. There were too many people for your liking, and being in the vicinity of the new clients and their skepticism almost made you nauseous. You hated work events, even when your wife was the one hosting them.

Lisa had joined you at the bar, and for almost an hour she had been pestering you with questions — you were one of the meditation teachers at the wellness center, and Lisa kept giving you random questions about chakras and auras and the placebo effect that you were getting a bit too tipsy to want to answer.

“So, the other day I was reading this book and basically it told me that auras are like clouds. People clouds.” She said, and the phrase ‘people clouds’ made you want to throw your wine in her face.

“I don’t know if that’s the term I would’ve used,” you said tiredly.

“What would you have said?” She asked enthusiastically. You sighed.

You felt a hand on your back and turned to see Lottie at your side, holding a glass of red wine. Relief overcame you, but you were a bit irritated with her for leaving you at the party alone. You had helped her put all of it together, and as soon as it had started she had left you.

“Lisa,” she said softly, and Lisa turned to Lottie as if God had spoken to her. “Will you go help the new clients fill out their paperwork?”

Quickly she nodded and hurried off. She would do anything Lottie said the moment she said to do it.

Lottie took Lisa’s seat next to you at the bar. She seemed to be enjoying herself despite all of the people, all of the chaos, the Christmas carols booming through the wellness center.

“Are you enjoying the party?” She asked. You were silent for a moment, not entirely knowing how to respond — you didn’t want to ruin the night for her, you knew she had been looking forward to it, but you had been in hell the whole duration of the party and you were irritated with her for abandoning you in it.

“It’s nice,” you said, a bit dryly. She raised her eyebrows skeptically, so you tried harder. “The decorations and the music, it all fits well together, and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves… What about you, are you enjoying it?”

She nodded, smiling softly. “I think it all turned out beautifully. We’ve gotten some new people to sign up, too, for after the holidays.”

“Good. We need that.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, choosing instead to watch you as you took a sip of your wine. You were acutely aware of her gaze bearing into you, of every breath she took and every breath you could hardly take yourself. You knew she had figured out by now how much torture the party had put you through.

“What are you thinking about?” Lottie asked, and you tensed slightly. You didn’t want to tell her you only thought horrendous parties like this were bearable in her presence — you didn’t want to tell her that you had been thinking about her all night. That you had been thinking about how gorgeous she looked in her golden dress and kaftan, with jeweled necklaces draping down her neck and chest and her hair hanging in flawless waves down her back.

You didn’t want to tell her you had been excruciatingly envious of everyone she’d come into contact with that night that hadn’t been you. That all you wanted was her full attention, for the two of you to go back to her cabin and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“You hate it, don’t you?” She asked, and you realized that you hadn’t responded to her question.

“I don’t hate it,” you said quickly. “Everything’s gorgeous, I just wish I’d spent all this time with you instead of fucking Lisa.”

She smirked, nodding, pleasantly surprised by your confession. “Jealous, then,” She noted, false sympathy lacing her tone. Your gaze dropped to her left hand fiddling mindlessly with the stem of her wine glass — her nails a deep shade of burgundy, one of her favorite rings on almost every finger.

“I’m not jealous,” you breathed, but the way it came out disproved your point. You averted your gaze, taking another sip of your wine. You felt her stand from her bar stool and come up behind yours, and after a moment her hands found your shoulders, trailing down to your hips. “Lottie…”

“I can’t even leave you alone for a couple of minutes,” she said condescendingly, as if it hadn’t been more than an hour. “What do we need to do to get you feeling better, hm? I can’t have you here sulking all night, baby…”

I’m not sulking, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t tell two lies in a row, not when you both knew the truth.

“Get up,” she ordered, and immediately you complied. You turned to face her, and to anyone else it would’ve looked like a perfectly normal conversation — you were the only one who knew her tells, the only one who could see the hunger in her eyes, the desperation ruled by dominance.

You let her lead you away from the bar and the small crowd that had accumulated around it. You weaved through the festivities, the hundreds of people getting wasted and partaking in the ‘Christmas cheer’ you had yet to find this year.

You heard someone calling Lottie’s name through the crowd. The two of you stopped, and you sighed, already knowing who it was before she joined you.

“I have the finished paperwork!” Lisa said cheerfully, and tried to hand it to Lottie, but the look you gave her made her pause. “Is everything okay? Your aura seems a bit-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, shaking your head. “Leave me the fuck alone, Lisa, I don’t have time for this.”

Her hurt expression told you every bit of how much you’d offended her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The party had made you miserable and the wine had made you unfiltered and all you wanted was to be with Lottie without interruption.

Lisa hurried away, and apart from a few stragglers from the party, again you were alone with Lottie in one of the hallways of the wellness center.

Lottie pulled you forward sharply, and then to the right, and then she was shutting and locking the door to the single bathroom in the middle of the hall. She stalked forward, pressuring you to step back so that the end of your lower back was pressed against the sink.

“What was that?” She asked sharply. You shrugged. “You should’ve seen her face when you said that.”

A smirk played at your lips. “I did. I’m not sorry for it, I’d say it again.”

She shook her head, watching you with the same hunger she’d had before, the same intensity. She brought a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head so that you’d meet her gaze. You felt your heartbeat quicken, a wave of warmth washing over you, settling between your legs.

“Such a naughty girl,” she murmured, and you ripped your eyes from hers, her gaze too intense to hold. “Acting like this to get attention. So desperate for mommy, aren’t you? Let me help you, baby.”

You nodded quickly, breathing a small ‘yes’ before pulling her into a kiss that though you initiated, she dominated. Her hands slid around your legs to the hem of your dress, and she pulled it up over your hips, out of the way.

Without warning she turned you around. Your hips pressed sharply against the sink, and when you met her gaze in the mirror above it, you shivered. You hadn’t realized that she’d slipped her golden kaftan off, and while not much of her had been revealed to you still you were in awe of what you could get, the way her dark hair was draped over one shoulder and the way her necklaces fell against her chest, and how strong she looked as she held you against the sink.

“Mommy, please,” you whined, squirming slightly as you stood.

“I know, baby,” she cooed, her tone laced with false sympathy. “You need mommy to take care of you, don’t you?”

Any response you were planning was lost when her lips met your neck. She kissed your pulse point gently before beginning to suck a mark, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“Quiet,” she shushed. “We can’t have everyone hearing how desperate you are, knowing how you’re such a little slut for me that I have to fuck you in the bathroom because you don’t think you’re getting enough attention.”

Her words made embarrassment flush through you, but something deep in you liked it, wanted more, anything she would give you.

And though she dominated you entirely, you felt a sort of satisfaction that you’d driven her to take it this far — she had spent the night away from you but at the end of it she was yours, and she would sacrifice everything for you. It was a point you were proving to everyone at the party with every passing moment that she held you there, her lips on your neck, one hand trailing up your dress to grope at your chest and the other sliding between your legs.

Your attention split between her touches — her lips on your neck, alternating between soft kisses and harsh sucking and biting as she marked your neck. Her fingers sliding through your folds, her touch centering on your clit. Your breath hitched as she began to circle it languidly, whispering praises in your ear as you tried to keep silent but we’re unable to help the whimpers and short whines that escaped you. You looked back into the mirror at the two of you and felt your heart beating furiously.

“You’re doing so good, baby, being so good for mommy,” she praised, and a whimper escaped you, louder than you would’ve wanted, but you didn’t care anymore. Let everyone hear — you were too focused on Lottie to give a damn about what anyone thought.

You moaned when she slipped two fingers into you, hardly giving you a moment to adjust before setting a quick rhythm. The heel of her hand pressed against your clit and the sensation of it all was enough to have you euphoric, eyes falling closed.

You didn’t realize you were being so loud until Lottie brought a hand to your mouth to subdue your moans. It only made you more eager, you could only imagine how wet you must be by now, and another soft flush of embarrassment washed through you.

“You’re mine,” she said, “and I’m yours, and that’s the way it stays.”

You nodded quickly, trying your best to hold back a moan at her words. You opened your eyes, looking into the mirror, and when you met her gaze you whimpered.

“Good girl,” she praised. “My pretty little slut, so close to cumming for me, aren’t you?”

Again you nodded, holding her gaze for a moment before letting your vision slip down to her hand between your legs. You couldn’t see her fucking you, but you could see the way the muscles in her arm flexed with every movement, and that alone was enough to have you reeling.

“Look at you,” Lottie said. “So fucking gorgeous, and all mine.”

You moaned, your eyes falling closed for a moment, hips involuntarily bucking into her hand.

“Cum for me, baby. Show mommy how pretty you are when you cum for her.”

With a gasp you came, her hand still pressed against your mouth to silence you as she worked you through your orgasm. You leaned into her, letting her hold you up better than you could hold yourself up on the sink, and when you looked into the mirror you could see yourself unraveling at her touch. You could see, too, the reverence in Lottie’s eyes, the adoration and hunger with which she watched you, and it was everything.

When you came down from your high, she turned you around again to face her. You wrapped your arms around her, fatigue washing over you heavily, but when she held you it was the safest place in the world for every bit of your exhaustion, a place of rest.

“You did so good for me, angel,” she whispered, running a hand through your hair. You let yourself be overcome with every sensation of her touch. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you replied. You were silent for a moment, but then she let out a quiet chuckle, and confusedly you looked up at her. “What are you laughing about?”

“It’s nothing,” she said, but when you gave her an imposing look, she folded. “I was just thinking about how this is the scene they never show in Hallmark movies.”

[amywritesthings]

mistletoe (on the clock.) / nanami x you

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader word count: 1.7k summary: It's your annual holiday party at the office. You and your coworker Nanami Kento end up in a precarious yuletide predicament. tags: mistletoe, holiday office party, explicit language, sexual tension, hair pulling, kissing, make corporate speak horny in this house

part of the twelve days of amymas 2023 !!!

Office holiday parties shouldn’t be mandatory.

Eight, sometimes bordering up to twelve, hours under fluorescent lights was more than enough anguish — add four extra mandatory 'fun' hours and you see why half of your colleagues spend their nights bar hopping to cope.

However, if these annual holiday parties weren't mandatory, most of your colleagues would never bother showing up in the first place.

You sure as hell wouldn’t.

(And you're pretty sure the tall blonde you spy from across the room wouldn’t, either.)

It’s only your first year with the company, but it’s already one year too many.

You'd taken a few gap years between college to figure your shit out, travel a little, but you still ended up in the grand corporate scheme.

The nine-to-five lifestyle is nothing less than soul sucking. Commuting back and forth is such a pain. 

By the time you make it back to your tiny one-bedroom flat, the night is too cold to enjoy anything beyond your warm bed.

But... there are perks to the job, sometimes.

Free lunches are great.

Business connections don't hurt.

Not to mention you've grown fond of one person who makes your commute a little tolerable:

Tall. Blonde. High cheekbones. Voice as smooth as honey.

Nanami Kento.

Stoic on the outside yet considerably kind on the inside, Nanami has equal parts ruined and consumed your days.

The sheer sight of him in his tailored suits without a strand of hair out of place can make you weak in the knees, so you make it a point to always talk to him sitting down.

And he seems to like you, for what it’s worth.

Nanami always makes sure to bring you tea and water in the morning to stay hydrated.

He stops by your cubicle to tell you there's free catering in the break room if you missed the memo.

No matter how late you end up staying, he always makes it a point to never let you walk to the train station alone.

It’s sweet.

It’s more than what anyone else has ever done for you in your life, so naturally?

You're into him.

Bad.

Of course, that means you’re too chicken to invite him over for dinner.

God knows you can’t cook a decent course to save your life, but you’d order in — it’s only one string away from officially asking him on a date, masked as a favor repaid.

('Tis the damn season; it may be your time to take a little leap of faith if he's going to be standing there all alone for this insufferable party.)

Emboldened by the spiked eggnog in your system, you decide to jump:

You make a beeline through the crowds of laughing colleagues, all varying stages of intoxicated, straight to him.

In truth, you're eager to blend as a wallflower beside him.

Nanami almost instantly catches you in the crowd, but he makes no motion to meet you in the middle.

He moves a pace to the right, silently offering you the corner to hide in.

You have to be brave.

You have to make the first real move.

(Attractiveness aside, it's just Kento. He must be at the end of his social battery, too.)

“Hey,” you greet.

“Hello,” he replies, smooth as butter.

“Having the time of your life over here?” you joke, pressing your back into the wall.

He hums in a noncommittal fashion. “At the very least, this party is much more tame than the one they threw last year.”

“Is it?”

Kento nods. “Someone overserved. Shirts flew. Marriages shattered.” His strong brow furrows. “Though I wanted to ask, even though I've been here longer: has Mr. Hiro always been a happy drunk? I recall differently.”

“No, that’s a fairly new development. His wife finally finalized the divorce last week,” you gossip under your breath. “I had to field the call myself.”

“Oh?” Nanami asks, turning a sharp chin your way. “Ugly?”

“Very.”

“To call and finalize over the phone at the office is—”

“Ballsy.”

A sly smile tugs at the corner of his lip. “I was going to say a choice, but sure.” 

Nanami clinks his ceramic ‘work hard, play harder ’ slogan mug to yours — a past gag gift from that Gojo Satoru friend of his, you’re sure — and pushes his body from the wall. 

“Do you need a refill?”

You nod, holding up your empty eggnog mug.

"Thanks."

"How spiked do you want it?"

"Blackout levels," you joke. It earns you an even larger smile, albeit shortly lived.

He plucks the handle from you easily enough, but you notice how his eyes flutter above your heads and… stay there.

Weird.

Unable to help yourself, you lift your chin to see the captivating problem for yourself:

Hovering over the two of you this entire time has been a pesky little bundle of leaves, tied together with a tiny red bow.

Shit.

Mistletoe.

(Were these things even allowed in the office? Surely hanging one constituted breaking at least four different Human Resources violations in one swift sweep.)

You open your mouth to make a joke, but—

“Has that been there?” Nanami asks, and you can feel your face grow hot.

“I— Maybe?” You clear your throat. “Did you stand under it on purpose?”

(Way to go, moron.)

Nanami considers, then shakes his head.

“I had no intention of kissing anyone in our office, I assure you,” he replies, and you feel yourself deflate a little. “Though I guess this is an opportune moment.”

Oh?

You pretend to look unbothered, arms crossed over your chest.

It takes you biting your tongue to avoid asking outright.

“What do you mean, opportune?” you ask instead.

Blink and you’ll miss it: Nanami smiles, albeit barely, before turning his chin back to the mistletoe in question.

“I would prefer taking a woman out to dinner before kissing her, but I suppose if you were interested, then we could be a little unconventional. It’s likely the swift kick in my ass I needed.”

Your brows slide to your hairline as you regard him in equal parts confusion and hope.

“Wait, you…” 

Words.

You have to remember how to speak.

The whole point of this job was to be suave, but you’re failing miserably at it at the moment.

“You were interested in going to dinner with…”

“You?” Nanami finishes, and he angles his larger frame towards you. “Was it never obvious?”

Obvious?

Now you really felt like a fish out of water.

Nothing about Nanami Kento was obvious.

You could barely get a read on him, even if he did all of those really nice things for you—

Oh.

The realization hits you like a subway train, leaving you breathless.

The blonde stares down at you, patiently waiting for an answer.

You blurt. "Do you still want dinner after?"

"I don't think many places are open at this hour, but if you're not hungover tomorrow, I could call."

"I'm not picky," you reply. "I love takeout."

"We're not getting takeout on our first outing," Nanami snorts.

"Like I said, very-much not picky."

A moment passes.

You both stare at one another, waiting for the right timing to...

Well, do anything.

He wants to take you out to dinner.

Nanami fucking Kento wants to take you out— 

And kiss you.

Actually, that part is more important right now.

"So the... unconventional part."

"The mistletoe," he adds.

"Right. Is that still on the table?"

"Do you want it to be on the table?"

"Is that a serious question?" you counter, before leaning in a little closer. "Okay, but what if someone sees?"

Nanami shrugs a shoulder, resting his bare forearm against the wall you lean against. His button-down shirt is rolled up to the elbow, making your mouth water.

His body shields you from the rest of the people in the office. 

One quick peck and none of the drunks on this floor would be any wiser.

“Are you that concerned?” he asks.

When his featherlight touch raises your chin to meet his gaze, he makes your decision right there and then.

You’ve wanted Nanami for so damn long.

Now the opportunity is presented to you like a holiday gift, and you’re not one to be ungrateful.

“Not anymore,” you admit, wrapping your fingers around his speckled yellow and black tie.

Like two magnets, you pull him in by the tie and he drags you in by the chin, connecting your lips in a searing kiss.

Nanami is warm, stronger than you anticipated. You melt against his lips as they gingerly move against yours.

You want him to push you against this wall.

You want to what he'd do if you dropped to your knees the way you’ve imagined doing every single time he’s sitting at his desk with those goddamn dress slacks bunched against his thighs.

You want so much in so little time that you bite his lower lip, causing the blonde to groan with need.

He slides his fingers along your jawline, snaking up past your ear and into your hair.

His fingers curl around the strands, tugging playfully.

Then, abruptly, he pulls away.

No.

Too soon.

You could topple over with how quickly you chase him, but he stops you with his index finger pressed to your lips.

“Nanami!” 

A voice calls him, slurred and hiccupped, from the other side of the room.

You freeze, unable to do anything but stare into his brown eyes. 

“Get your ass over here!”

“Group photo,” Nanami reluctantly murmurs to you, and your shoulders sag. “Before everyone starts digging out the hard liquor.”

Still, he leans back in to drop a gentle peck to the tip of your nose.

When he pulls away, he drops the arm against the wall to hold his palm out to you — an invitation.

“Let’s circle back after.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice.

You take his hand and never look back.

.

[matchavellichor]

No Better Way to Warm Up

Sebastian x Ominis x f!MC - NSFW - 5.7k words - ao3

(Part two here!) (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

A/N: no one ask why I'm writing an xmas oneshot in the middle of may, i'm shamelessly procrastinating on my other wips rn lmfao

Tags: Idiots in Love, Pining, Drinking, Cunnilingus, Body Worship, Threesome - F/M/M, Hesitant Ominis, Eager Sebastian

Summary: Ominis, Sebastian, and MC are snowed in the castle together during winter break. After an entire bottle of Ogden's, a long night of banter, and much-lowered inhibitions, the three friends soon find themselves in a rather intimate situation that not a single one of them is apt to resist.

The three friends huddled in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, hands outstretched in front of the flickering flames in an attempt to draw out the numbness in their fingers from the cold. They had just returned from a short trip to Hogsmeade, after much insistence from Sebastian that an assortment of treats from Honeyduke’s was absolutely essential for a proper Christmas Eve celebration, regardless of the harrowing conditions outside. 

Both boys had decided to stay at Hogwarts for winter break to keep their dear friend company, refusing to let her spend her first Christmas in the wizarding world alone. It was a strange feeling to occupy the castle after the majority of the students had gone, but there was also a pleasant sense of coziness in having the common room all to themselves, considering all the other Slytherins had families to go home to.

“You’re going to catch a cold.” Ominis admonished lightly when he noticed she was still shivering after a few minutes. She hadn’t taken off her coat, despite it being soaked from the melted snow, the damp wool clinging to her skin. The blonde sat up from his spot beside her, feeling around her shoulders until he reached the buttons on her front, quickly undoing them with deft fingers. He continued scolding her under his breath as he peeled away the sullen fabric, slipping the coat from her shoulders. Despite how much she’d usually fight him for it, it was admittedly sort of endearing the way he coddled her so often, handling her with a strange sort of protectiveness she’d never experienced before. 

Sebastian was of a similar fashion, though his doting was usually expressed in more subliminal forms and accompanied with a fair amount of teasing to go along with it. Nonetheless, the ways the boys treated her had made her feel more loved than she’d ever felt in her entire life and she found herself growing increasingly attached to them. Their friendship had grown so strong over the past few months, and she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was growing a sense of genuine affection for the pair of Slytherins, though she’d never allow herself to indulge in these thoughts.

She thanked Ominis meekly through chattering teeth as she settled back down in front of the fire. Her sweater underneath was subtly damp and so she begrudgingly decided to remove it as well, draping it over the stone mantel of the fireplace to dry out. She was too preoccupied to notice the way Sebastian’s eyes lingered over her exposed skin as she settled back down between the two boys, at how he traced the outline of her curves under her camisole with his gaze, nor did she pay any mind to the way his face flushed immediately after, chalking up the pink on his cheeks to a side effect from the cold.

Sebastian cleared his throat nervously and shifted his attention towards rummaging through his rucksack and pulling out the assortment of Yuletide sweets. He made sure to purchase an impressive variety, determined to expose her to every facet of wizarding Christmas. He couldn’t help but feel his stomach flutter as he watched her face light up at the sight of them, a smile breaking out on her lips.

Her fingers brushed against his momentarily as she took the sweets from him and he frowned. “Poor thing, you’re freezing.” 

He took her hands in his gently, squeezing her fingers in an attempt to seep some warmth into them. The warmth in his hands seemed to go straight to her cheeks instead, and she reprimanded herself in her head for enjoying the feeling of her hands in his a little too much.

Sebastian pulled out a few bottles of cider next, setting them down on the stone in front of the fireplace to warm as he pulled out one final item that neither of his friends had spotted him purchasing. He set his bag aside and cracked open the bottle of Ogden’s, pretending not to notice Ominis’ obvious disapproval at the tell-tale sound of the bottle of strong liquor opening.

“What? There’s no better way to warm up.” He murmured through the rim of the bottle as he took a swig, grimacing slightly as the firewhiskey burned a path down his throat. He extended the bottle towards the blonde, shaking it enticingly. “Go on now.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Ominis muttered, rolling his eyes before he snatched the bottle from the brunette’s hand and begrudgingly took a drink himself. He handed it back to Sebastian and the brunette held it out to her now, tilting his head in an encouraging manner.

“I’ve never had any.” She admitted sheepishly.

“And you won’t have any.” Ominis objected in that paternalistic tone of his, shooting a stern glare towards Sebastian.

“Loosen up, Ominis.” Sebastian sighed as he pushed the bottle into her hands. “Let the girl have some fun.”

She gave an uneasy smile to Sebastian as she finally brought the bottle to her lips, taking a much larger swig than she probably should’ve. She painfully willed herself not to grimace or show any indication of the burn in a stupid attempt to prove herself in some way. Nonetheless, she choked out a few coughs as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and handed the bottle back to Sebastian, who looked positively delighted with her. 

“See? Takes it like a champ.” He commented, a satisfaction in his eyes that made her feel warm inside.

The next several hours were spent bantering amongst themselves and working down the remainder of the liquor and the sweets, the last vestiges of daylight blurring into darkness as the blizzard continued to rage outside. At some point she had stumbled towards her dorm room and lugged out her gramophone, forcing the boys to drunkenly twirl around the common room with her to the latest Muggle composers. They took turns dancing around with her, Ominis doing so with an impressive amount of finesse, most likely due to years of pureblood etiquette lessons. Sebastian was a bit less poised, nearly knocking her down on several occasions and spinning her in his arms until her head was dizzy. By the end of the night she was nearly in tears on the floor from laughter, her head a fuzzy haze from the endorphins and alcohol.

When the peak of the evening had eventually died down they settled onto the couch together, where she inevitably curled into herself as sleep slowly overtook her, her head falling against Ominis’ shoulder and her legs draped over Sebastian’s lap. The boys exchanged knowing glances in the silence, allowing themselves a few more moments to bask in the serenity of the situation they found themselves in. Neither boy had to say a word, they were both blissfully aware of just how much the other was shamelessly enjoying this.

Sebastian rubbed gentle circles absentmindedly on her legs where her skirt had slightly ridden up and Ominis softly brushed her hair back from her face, delicate fingers tracing her features. They couldn’t help but admire how perfect she felt pressed against them and they would’ve stayed there forever if they could, just listening to her soft breathing. Eventually though, Ominis being the more responsible of the two, cleared his throat and broke them out of their audacious indulgence.

“Come on, love, up.” Sebastian sighed as he begrudgingly stood himself up, running his hands down her shoulders gently to rouse her from her sleep. “Off to bed.”

“But I’m not even tired,” She murmured through a yawn as Ominis stood and helped pull her up from the couch, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her.

“Aham, sure.” Ominis smiled softly down at her as they began their walk towards the girl’s dormitories, Sebastian following beside her. He tangled his fingers in hers and she eagerly welcomed the contact.

“We should have a sleepover,” She remarked eagerly, her speech slightly slurred and drowsy from sleep and the lingering effects of the firewhiskey. “We can…mmh all sleep in my bed.”

“That sounds like a lovely idea—” 

“ Sebastian .” Ominis interjected with a scolding tone. “We’ll all sleep in our own beds.”

“But that’s no fun.” She frowned, turning to the blonde with heartbroken simpering. “Don’t you want to sleep with me, Ominis?”

“That’s — that’s, uh, hardly appropriate, I—” He flushed immediately, stumbling over his words at the innuendo.

“Trust me, Ominis would love nothing more than to sleep with you.” Sebastian informed with a smug smile, amused by the way the blonde turned red and immediately whacked him in the shoulder. 

“You’re…you’re both so…so nice to me,” She continued her dozy ambling, a soft smile on her face. “Mmh, my boys.”

They pushed open the door to her room and settled her on her bed, Sebastian sinking to his knees to undo the laces on her boots and Ominis sitting beside her. She leaned her head on his shoulder and watched Sebastian, his fingers working diligently to get her ready for bed.

“You’re a terribly sappy drunk.” He chuckled, looking up at her. He couldn’t help but notice how absolutely enamored Ominis looked beside her, pink tinging his cheeks.

“It’s quite cute though.” Ominis remarked softly, wanting to stretch these last few moments out for as long as possible before they’d both have to retreat their dorms and have to stifle their longing yet again.

“You’re quite cute.” She replied as she turned to face him, a love-drunk smile on her face and her eyes half-lidded.

Ominis flushed profusely at the compliment, his mouth opening to stammer some nervous reply, but before any comment could be made, her lips were suddenly on his. 

Both boys stood frozen in shock, barely even conscious of what had happened, the gesture feeling like a dream. Ominis looked as if he could faint, and Sebastian was expecting the blonde to immediately have pulled away, but when she curled her small fingers into the front of his robes and he groaned against her mouth, it became clear that not even Ominis, as stuck-up and decorous as he was, could resist the likes of her.

She was the one that finally broke the kiss. Her eyes widened as she looked at Ominis’ flushed face and parted lips, then looked down at Sebastian who was still frozen by her legs in front of her. It was as if the reality of what she had done had just caught up to her, sobering quickly and her cheeks warming with shame. She brought her fingers up to hover over her glistening lips and Sebastian couldn’t help but marvel at how precious she looked, overcome with the desire to leave her that breathless with his own kiss.

“I–I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—” She began immediately, her voice coated in mortification and he wanted nothing more than to tell her that she had nothing to be sorry about. Confess every single feeling the both of them had harbored for her for the longest time, admit to every hidden fantasy that they had shared over her, every secret desire.

He simply couldn’t help himself. He had shut her up with his mouth before she could ramble, swallowing the gasp she let out against his lips. He slowly rose from his knees, towering over her on the bed and he was delighted when she didn’t pull away, instead her hands coming up to cup his cheeks and pull him in deeper.

“Sebastian, we should stop.” Ominis spoke up beside the two after a moment, his voice strained. He was still trying to muster some composure after what had happened, and this was proving even more difficult as he listened to what was unraveling beside him.  He was desperately trying to cling to rationality and not give into temptation.

“Do you want to stop?” Sebastian pulled his lips away for a brief moment, directing the question towards her.

She paused, staring up at him. She didn’t know what she wanted — a confusing mixture of uncertainty, nervousness, and desire clouded her brain — but she knew for certain that the last thing she wanted to do was stop. She took in a shaky breath before she swallowed, shaking her head.

Sebastian’s lips were on hers again in the next second, his kiss more brutal this time, hungry and passionate and bruising. She involuntarily whined against his mouth and it clearly had an effect on both boys. 

Ominis paused behind her, wide-eyed and considering for a moment. Was this really happening? Should he stop this before things got too far? Did he even have the willpower inside him to stop this?

Sebastian didn’t let any of the blonde’s plans in impeding this come into fruition though, backing her up against Ominis’ chest until she was in his lap. “Touch her, it’s okay.” He told Ominis encouragingly, sensing his friend’s hesitations, before he dove back into her lips.

The feeling of her tight, warm body pressed against his, the soft little moans that Sebastian was pulling from her lips, the brunette’s encouraging words, it was all enough to make his walls crumble. How could he resist when all he ever wanted was right here in his arms?

His hands hesitantly came up to do as Sebastian said, hovering over her skin for a brief moment before he brushed back her hair from her shoulders, his fingers tracing her soft skin as if afraid to touch her. He slowly leaned down, his warm breath sending goosebumps down her spine when he finally attached his lips to the sensitive skin of her neck.

She moaned at the contact and it was all the approval he needed before he allowed himself to give in completely, his lips reveling in the feeling of her warm skin. She was intoxicating and his desire for her ached deep inside him, his trousers strained where she was pressing against him.

“If you want to stop at any moment, if anything bothers you, tell us. You don’t have to do anything you wouldn’t like to.” Ominis breathed against her ear, his self-restraint slowly slipping from him. He had to make sure she was comfortable with this, that she wouldn’t regret this. “Do you understand?”

She nodded, her voice caught in her throat. She was too enraptured by the feeling of their lips on her to form any semblance of a coherent sentence.

“Words, love, use your words.” Sebastian urged gently.

“Yes,” She blurted out, her entire body warming at the term of endearment. “I—I understand.”

She let out a small gasp when she felt Ominis’ tongue on the side of her jaw. He licked a hungry stripe down her neck, desperate to taste more of her. She could feel how stiff he was already as she squirmed against him, his chest pressed to her back while Sebastian loomed over her.

The boys explored every inch of her as if she were a work of art to be analyzed and discovered, to be worshiped and adored and studied intently with their mouths and hands. There was still a gentleness to the way they handled her, one similar to the manner that they always treated her, but she could tell that they were holding back, that they were balancing on the precipice of succumbing to their darkest desires.

It was clear that Ominis was trying to be a mediating force, scolding the brunette when he got too impassioned and nipped her bottom lip, earning a whimper from her and making him fret that they were being too rough. She could tell that even his self-control was faltering though, by the way his fingers dug into her hips to still her when she writhed against him, rubbing against his erection until it was too much for him to handle. 

“Is this okay?” Sebastian asked softly as his hands trailed to cup her breasts t  hrough the thin fabric of her undershirt. “Can I touch you here?” 

“Please,” She breathed against his lips and it was all the approval he needed to rub gentle circles over the sensitive flesh. He palmed hungrily at her breasts, before circling her nipples with his thumbs, smiling at the way she gasped from the contact. He dipped his head down to plant kisses along her collarbone. 

Ominis’ lips left her neck, his hand sliding down in its place and gently taking hold of her chin, tilting her head up and maneuvering her so he could take what he wanted from her. His lips met hers with a desperate urgency, his tongue slipping in her mouth immediately with a hunger to taste her.

“So fucking perfect.” Sebastian whispered against her skin as his mouth trailed down her chest, leaving innumerable kisses as he explored. He took his time when he reached her breasts, tonguing her nipples through her undergarment and soaking the thin cotton with his saliva. 

She was a mess . She could feel the slickness coating her thighs under her skirt, Sebastian pressed in between her legs as he worked at her breasts. Ominis’ kiss was enough to make her head spin, his tongue exploring every inch of her as his fingers tangled through her hair. 

“Let me take this off,” Sebastian muttered in a lust-drunk haze as he groped hungrily at her breasts through the fabric.

“ Sebastian , slow down.” Ominis pulled his mouth away from hers begrudgingly to admonish the brunette for his lack of patience. The last thing he wanted was to rush this, to make her uncomfortable in even the slightest way.

“It’s—it’s okay.” She said breathlessly which seemed to surprise both boys. Sebastian looked up at her for further confirmation. When she nodded, he eagerly began on the long line of buttons on her front.

He was surprisingly slow and gentle while he undressed her, despite his fervent desire. He wanted to savor every inch of her, kiss every tiny bit of exposed skin and make her feel worshiped and cared for. He wanted her to know his adoration for her in every caress, every brush of his lips.

“Arms up, darling.” Ominis ordered her softly when Sebastian began tugging the shirt over her stomach. 

She was on another plane of existence at the moment, her brain fuzzy from pleasure. How could she possibly keep her wits about her when she was sandwiched between two boys that were kissing, licking, and caressing every sensitive inch of her? Thankfully, wits were the last thing she needed right now, and she had never felt safer than she did in the moment, despite her obvious lack of control. It felt so good to be able to trust them so much, to know they would do nothing but care for her and attend to her every need.

Ominis helped her raise her arms, smiling softly to himself at how much of a mess she was, her limbs adorably limp and languid. If she was in this state already, how would she be when they actually got their way with her? They didn’t plan on stopping until they had coaxed multiple orgasms out of her, until she was a weak, little thing underneath them that barely even remembered her own name.

Sebastian slipped the thin piece of cotton over her head, groaning when the sight of her bare chest was finally revealed to him, his hands immediately finding purchase on her skin, kneading the soft flesh. 

“She’s so beautiful, Ominis.” Sebastian breathed out, awe-struck.

“That I already knew,” Ominis murmured dotingly, placing a tender kiss to her temple.

Sebastian’s hands ran affectionately up and down her sides for a few moments, appreciating just how perfect she looked laid out in front of him, only the warm, flickering light from the kerosene lamp beside them dancing over her features. He dipped his head down to let his tongue work at her sensitive breasts, sucking with open-mouthed kisses until he left pretty little marks on her perfect, untouched skin. Ominis’ lips never left hers, pouring all his devotion into every kiss he left on her neck, her cheeks, her lips, every tender little bit of exposed skin he could reach that made her breath hitch in her throat.

The feeling of Ominis’ erection pressed against the small of her back, and Sebastian’s against her inner thigh drove her insane. She bucked her hips, a pathetic array of pleas spilling from her lips that would’ve left her embarrassed from the neediness in her voice if she wasn’t utterly drunk on lust at the moment.

“Where, hm?” He asked softly as his hand trailed over her thighs, the smallest hint of taunting in his tone of voice that made her grow even needier. “Here? Is this where you want me to touch you?”

“S-Sebastian, please—” Her voice caught in her throat as his hand hovered over her core, his fingers brushing over the fabric of her skirt and pressing against her.

“Tell him to stop and he’ll stop.” Ominis reminded her reassuringly and his voice was so soothing, so grounding in her ear that she almost sobbed from how perfect it all was.

“Don’t stop.” She finally begged, grinding her hips up to meet his hand, desperate for any friction to relieve the ache between her thighs.

Sebastian eagerly obliged, unable to contain himself any longer. His hand slipped under the hem of her skirt, coming in contact with the wet fabric of her panties. “ Fuck , she’s soaked.” Sebastian marveled at the sensation, breathless. He toyed with her slowly, rubbing the wetness in with his fingertips. “Is all this for us?” He stroked gently up and down the soft cotton, delighting himself with the way her hips sought out his hand, the soft little whines tumbling from her lips.

“Stop torturing the poor girl, Sebastian.” Ominis chastised lightly, though she could hear the amusement in his voice. He loved having her like this, loved the way she writhed against him, loved feeling her lips stutter against his when Sebastian applied a bit more pressure and the pleasure was too much for her to kiss him back properly. He couldn’t help but imagine kissing her while Sebastian was fucking her to the point of tears, to feel her come undone in his arms and swallow every pretty moan she let out.

“Such a mess,” Sebastian tsked as he pulled her panties to the side, his fingers collecting her wetness. “The prettiest little mess.”

“ Please , Sebastian.” She begged, and it was music to his ears. If she was making all these pretty sounds with just his fingers, he wondered what kind of noises she would make when he was buried deep inside her.

“Give her what she wants.” Ominis said mercifully, his hands coming up to toy with her nipples.

Sebastian sank one finger inside of her, biting his lip at how warm and wet she felt squeezing him. None of his filthiest fantasies could’ve prepared him for the actual feeling of her.

“So fucking tight,” He murmured as he placed gentle kisses on the inside of her thighs, pumping in and out of her slowly, careful to allow her to adjust to the sensation. Her moans only encouraged him, and he reveled in the way she gasped when he eased another finger inside of her. “I don’t think she’ll be able to take us, Ominis.”

“I—I can take it,” She said defiantly, her head falling back against Ominis’ shoulder as Sebastian continued his slow, languid pace.

“Not yet, darling.” Ominis hushed her, kissing her cheek. 

The feeling of Ominis’ hands rolling her nipples, the open-mouthed kisses he was leaving on her neck, the way Sebastian’s fingers curled inside her in just the right spot, it was all too much. When his pace quickened and he brought his thumb to rub tight, little circles on her clit, she saw stars. “Please, please, please, oh God.”

“ Fuck , you’re gorgeous like this.” Sebastian watched intently, wholly infatuated at the way her face contorted in pleasure, her eyes squeezed shut. “Eyes open, I want you to look at me.”

She immediately obliged, her fluttering open to meet his. He looked at her as if she were the most breathtaking sight in the world, taking in every little feature and committing it to memory. He made a mental note to get his hands on a Pensieve after this, so he could replay the image of her falling apart so beautifully on his fingers over and over again.

Sebastian’s fingers hit just the right spot and the coil of tension inside her exploded, her entire body trembling as she let out a strangled moan. He didn’t stop until she was writhing away from him, her hands weakly pushing his wrist away from the overstimulation. Ominis murmured praises in her ear the entire time, brushing back the hair sticking to her sweat-damp cheeks and placing doting kisses to her temple as she came down from her high. 

“Gods, fucking taste her.” Sebastian breathed out as he slipped his fingers out from inside her, bringing them up towards Ominis’ lips. She watched through half-lidded eyes, her head still dizzy from the mind-shattering orgasm, as the blonde licked hungrily from his friend’s fingers, savoring the taste.

It was as if something snapped inside of him and suddenly he was slipping out from behind her, Sebastian quickly taking his place. He sank down to his knees in front of her, his hands coming to rest on her thighs to keep her legs spread for him.

Despite how eager he was to get another orgasm out of her himself, Ominis restrained himself, knowing she was still sensitive and recovering. He adjusted her against Sebastian so that she felt secure in his arms before he leaned down to kiss her slowly, plying her open to him and being mindful of her reactions, making sure he was touching her in all of the right places.

There was a carefulness to the way his lips met hers that made her head spin in the most delicious of ways, a gentleness in the way he trailed his lips down her neck, dragged his tongue over her sternum and then around her nipples. His kisses slowly increased in intensity, his touch becoming hungry and bruising before he sank down to plant kisses along her navel, just above the hem of her skirt.

Sebastian was quiet behind her, as if fully immersed in the sight before him, only the sound of his pants against her ear. She could feel the twitch in his trousers against her back every time she’d moan or let out a breathy gasp. He was utterly enraptured, as if he enjoyed watching her like this, watching Ominis touch and kiss her while she squirmed.

“May I?” Ominis asked, his hands on the clasp of her skirt.

“Yes.” She nodded, semi-conscious of the fact that she’d probably agree to just about anything at this point as long as it meant they kept touching her.

Ominis slid her skirt down with a resounding amount of care, her panties coming down with it. His hands came up to marvel at her hips, squeezing the supple flesh as if he wanted to tear her apart. She was so soft , it was maddening, and some part of him wanted to absolutely ruin her.

She was completely nude now, her only modesty lying in her wool knee socks. She probably should’ve felt embarrassed, exposed, insecure , yet she had never felt more secure and comfortable in her life.

“Beautiful, so, so beautiful.” Sebastian whispered in her ear with an awe-struck breathlessness, taking in the sight of her body over her shoulder.

Ominis’ lips were trailing up her thighs from her knees, torturously slow and deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every inch of her. He bit the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and chuckled when her hips jolted from the contact. “So sensitive.” He whispered and she could feel him smirking against her skin.

He ran his tongue over everywhere except where she needed him most and it was driving her insane. She wanted to beg, cry, anything in order to relieve the growing ache between her legs from the lack of stimulation. Despite her recent orgasm, seeing Ominis in front of her worshiping every square inch of her body made her insatiable once again. 

Finally, as if deciding to grant her mercy, she felt a soft kiss just on top of her mound, watched him rub his nose against it and groan from the taste.

“Please, Ominis.” She whined, squirming underneath him but he increased the pressure of his hands on her hips to still her.

“I know, sweet girl, I know.” He hushed against her skin and the vibrations of his voice against her made her even needier.

“Who’s torturing the poor girl now?” Sebastian chuckled, his warm breath fanning her ear. He placed soft kisses on her shoulder, his eyes glued to the beautiful sight before him. 

Ominis placed another kiss on her mound, just above her clit and she keened, earning a satisfied groan from both boys. It drove her insane, something about them finding great enjoyment in turning her into a pathetic mess, in watching her whine and beg for them.

Ominis’ hands intertwined with hers, pinning them down to the mattress beside her hips as he finally licked a long stripe through her slit, collecting the wetness on his tongue. “Tastes like heaven.” He moaned, his grip on her hands tightening.

“Well, that’s because she’s an angel.” Sebastian smiled fondly, pecking her cheek. Her head dropped back against his shoulder and he couldn’t help but study her face obsessively. It was truly the prettiest sight he had ever seen, her brows furrowed and her lips parted as a pathetic array of pleas and whimpers fell from her little mouth. 

Ominis was growing more insatiable by the second, licking broader and broader strokes through her folds. He shifted his attention to her clit, tonguing soft circles around the sensitive nub until she was moaning his name desperately, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“Feels so good, doesn’t it?” Sebastian whispered in her ear as he watched her writhe, her legs struggling against where Ominis was keeping them pinned to the mattress. “Can’t even keep still, poor thing.”

Ominis slackened the grip on one of her hands, guiding her hand to his head. When he increased the pace of his tongue on her, she instinctively tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling on it. He groaned in satisfaction at the sensation, desperate to bring her to climax soon, concerned that if he kept this up any longer he’d be finishing in his pants.

“Ominis, please — oh, God don’t stop.” She moaned, her hands holding his mouth pressed against her cunt. He had never experienced a greater euphoria than this, his fingers digging into her thighs so roughly he was sure he would leave marks.

“So fucking perfect,” Sebastian moaned against her skin as he planted searing kisses along her neck, leaving marks all over her skin. “Cum for us, just like that, God — that’s it,” His hands kneaded at her breasts, rubbing over her sensitive nipples until she was a mess. “Our pretty girl.”

She reached her peak with Sebastian’s encouraging words in her ear, her wetness dripping down Ominis’ chin, and he savored every drop, lapping at the evidence of her climax hungrily. He didn’t pull away until she was pulling at his hair and pleading, overcome with pleasure. She twitched from the aftershocks as he finally came up to kiss her and he couldn’t help but smile against her lips, the taste of her on his tongue.

“You’re better than I could’ve ever imagined, do you know that?” He whispered, overcome with satisfaction at her soft little pants, at the way her bare chest heaved underneath him.

She gave him a soft, pleasure-drunk smile, barely able to form any coherent thoughts, much less words. She was on cloud nine, utterly high from the endorphins, a languid, syrupy mess in between the two boys who were still kissing her softly as they eased her down from her second orgasm.

They wanted to coax a third, fourth, fifth out of her but could tell by her inability to even thoroughly keep her eyes open that they had probably reached her limit for the night. Their focus was completely on making her feel as safe and cared for as possible, at earning her trust and confidence, thus they knew they had to take this slow. There would be other opportunities to leave her thoroughly sore and fucked out, that they were sure of, but tonight wasn’t one of them.

The boys shifted her until they were laying on the bed on either side of her, their arms wrapped protectively around her. She barely had the energy to move a muscle, but she decided to force herself anyways, eager to return the favor from all the care she had received tonight. 

Her hands came into contact with Sebastian’s belt but he quickly stilled them, pulling them up to his lips to place soft kisses on her knuckles. “Not tonight, love.”

“But I—”

“Another time.” Ominis assured her, his lips brushing over her bare shoulder. “Rest, darling.” 

“But you didn’t—”

“So concerned,” Sebastian chuckled, placing a chaste kiss on her lips and caressing her cheek with a feather-light touch. “We’ll survive, I promise.”

She settled back against the pillows reluctantly, sandwiched between the two boys. Ominis pulled the covers over the three of them and she had never felt more loved than she did at the moment, listening to Sebastian’s heartbeat as she rested against his chest, Ominis pressed flush against her back as if any personal space between them would be unbearable.

Ominis traced soft patterns over her arms, reminiscing in the feeling of her soft skin on his fingertips. Sebastian was of a similar manner, his thumb brushing back and forth on her hip bone. 

“There’ll be another time then?” She whispered sometime in the stillness of the aftermath, just before she let sleep overcome her.

“Oh, certainly.” Sebastian answered quietly, his arms around her tightening. “Or did you think we were letting you go after this?”