#like I don’t know if they sat down and were like ‘yes make this one more human this is what the kids want’

[cherrixpie]

DINNER AND DIATRIBES

double feature: part a - part b

-> not only is mattheo too late to ask you out to the yule ball, you're going with harry potter of all people. now, his best friend is going to the ball with his nemesis and he has some feelings about it.

-> mattheo riddle x bsf! reader; part a; sfw; wc: 13k; cw: suggestive, mentions of violence; tags: friends to lovers, yule ball setup; again I wasn't able to tag everyone, sorry :(

( masterlist )

There were many who would call Mattheo Riddle crazy. A bloodthirsty maniac, who couldn’t be bothered to feel attachment, or fear, or any normal human emotion for that matter. A psychopath who would snap on a whim and held an iron grip on the school when he wanted to.

But you had never been able to see him the way other people did, never could relate the picture the whispers and rumors painted to the man who was currently breathing down your neck. His nose ran down your skin and you could feel his boredom on your fingertips as he leaned his forehead against the back of your neck. His knee rocked unsteadily under you, making the thigh you had slung over his bounce up and down almost indiscernibly in return.

“Have you heard that Susan Bones is going with one of our house?” asked Pansy through the chatter surrounding you, widening her eyes dramatically. “Susan Bones. And a Slytherin. Merlin, I didn’t think I’d see the day, they must have the same freaky kinks or something to make that match work.”

Blaise’s laughter echoed off the stone walls of the dungeons. The Slytherin common room was painted in its usual emerald glow. It flickered across the tapestry showing scenes of a medieval wedding tonight. Only after spending more time with Pansy and the boys in your fifth year, and after weeks of hanging around with them in their common room, had you noticed that the tapestry kept changing its motif and scenery. Low chatter and conversation filled the space as groups of students were huddled around couches or desks, studying or talking, some of them reading by themselves. It wasn’t as busy as your common room, nor was it as loud, and you quite enjoyed the calmer atmosphere.

You sat comfortably on Mattheo’s lap, his arm draped lazily around your waist, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on the fabric of your uniform skirt. It wasn’t unusual- your friendship with you-know-who’s son was quite affectionate, filled with easy touches and stolen warmth, a silent understanding of physical proximity neither of you ever questioned. But tonight, something felt different. His grip was a little tighter, his body a little tenser beneath yours, his usual sharp, sarcastic remarks replaced with a brooding silence as the others discussed the upcoming Yule Ball.

“I think I’d say yes to Diggory, if he asked,” Pansy mused, twirling a strand of dark hair between her fingers and quirking an evil little smirk at Blaise’s frown. “He’s got that whole golden-boy thing going on.”

Mattheo scoffed under his breath and you felt the brush of puffed-out air tingling the skin of your neck, his hand tightening slightly on your hip. “Golden-boy thing is just another way of saying boring.” His tone was clipped, disinterested, but you could still feel the way his legs bounced slightly beneath you, a tell-tale sign of his agitation. He’d been in a foul mood all day, propelling anyone near him or passing him in the corridors into a constant state of nervousness and vigilance.

As you thought back, you guessed his bad mood must have started back when Professor McGonnagall had announced the ball, halfway into december, and you felt your lips twitch at the thought that Mattheo Riddle might shy away from a dance. You shifted slightly in his lap, turning to look at him with a raised brow. “What’s got your robes in a twist?” you teased brazenly, delivering a playful nudge to his shoulder.

But instead of smirking back at you like he usually would, he simply huffed, gaze flickering away. “I just don’t see why any of you care so much,” he muttered. “It’s just a bloody dance.”

“And you call me a spoilsport,” huffed Theo next to the two of you, balancing a book in his lap. His eyes met yours and his lips curled into a mocking smile as they flickered back to Mattheo. Theo and you were probably his best friends- as well as the only ones who would ever tell him off for something. For good reason. Because the two of you were also, with high probability, the only ones Mattheo would never seriously hurt.

“Shut it, Nott,” mumbled Mattheo warningly and Theo shrugged, turning a page in his book.

Your body was still turned to Mattheo when Draco’s drawling voice spoke up. He was lounging in the best seat by the fire with an air of superiority. “I don’t know about you all,” he said uppishly, “But I already have a date for the Ball.”

“Really?” Pansy asked in surprise and shot up from where she was leaning against Blaise. Her eyes glinted at the prospect of being the first one to receive the newest gossip. Half the reason she was so excited for the Yule Ball had to be watching all the drama unfold. Having a front-row seat and sipping her red wine when the screaming matches and tearful breakups would start.

“Who are you going with?” asked Enzo, interested, from his place at the far end of the couch. He himself had already gotten three invitations to the Ball that day, all from very flustered looking, younger girls, and had to decline all of them with an apologetic smile, later complaining about it to his friends. And of course, you had all diligently listened to his woes before smacking him over the head with a pillow for being such a damn loverboy. And watching him shuffle his curls back into place.

“Daphne,” revealed Draco in a superior tone, watching his nails in feigned disinterest.

But Pansy sucked a loud breath in through her lips and gripped Blaises thigh so hard he let out a low noise of complaint. She ignored him, a predatory smile on his face. “Did you ask her or did she ask you?”

“Does that matter?” scoffed Draco lazily, but there was a very faint tint of pink on his pale cheeks. His displeased frown flickered over Pansy, Enzo, Blaise and you as you all started laughing. Mumbling something indiscernible, he pretended to be interested in the tapestry above, making Pansy bend forward with giggles.

“What about you, Pans?” you asked when she had calmed down and slumped back into Blaise, your eyes wandering back and forth between them. “Do you already know who you’re going with?”

With a secretive smile, Pansy shrugged but splayed a thigh over Blaise’s leg. Her manicured nails traced a line up his knee as she winked at you. “Who knows?” Her eyes flickered between you and the disgruntled looking Mattheo currently resting his chin on your shoulder and glaring into the emerald fire. “What about you?”

At the question, Mattheo’s hold on your waist stiffened. His fingers, that had been drawing lazy circles on your hip, suddenly stilled, pressing just a fraction harder into the fabric of your skirt. On your shoulder, you felt his jaw tense, a muscle ticking as he shifted slightly beneath you, his leg bouncing once more before he forced it to stop. Though he kept his gaze trained on the fire, his grip on you didn’t falter.

Normally, he held you like this when he had to somehow ground himself, threatening to lose himself in a whirlwind of anger and stress, moments before either jumping another student or being dragged off by you or Theo. But there was no one here that might have attracted his hate, and your brows scrunched up in a frown he couldn’t see. Anyone else might’ve missed the way his fingers flexed or how his breath grew just slightly uneven, but you felt it- every small, quiet reaction that betrayed his indifference.

Something about this Ball seemed to agitate him, and you placed a warm hand on his thigh to draw careful circles on it, in the hopes of appeasing whatever it was that fueled his bitter temperament.

“No plans,” you answered, as casually as possible. In truth, you had been hoping for Mattheo to ask you ever since the announcement. You had had a giant crush on him for months now, one that you sometimes thought he reciprocated, when his touch would grow a little to intimate, his face inch a little too close, his dark promises a little too sincere to be considered platonic. This was the downside to your rather touchy friendship, the fact that there was no clear line to cross, that you could never be sure.

Holding onto hope, you’d declined Harry’s invitation a few days before, still dreaming that he could feel the same about you, as Pansy constantly assured you. But if he didn’t ask you today… Glancing back at him carefully, you only caught half his face in your field of vision, but it showed no emotion. It was still hardened with the earlier tension, not a muscle twitching, not even a small look back at you.

Enzo leaned forwards slightly, propping his arms up on his knees and giving you a sly grin. “I heard Pucey’s thinking about asking you,” he insinuated, brows wiggling suggestively.

Before you could answer, Mattheo’s voices sounded against your neck, his chin still propped up on your shoulder. “Pucey can go fuck himself.” It was a low, dangerous sound and the group fell silent for a few seconds.

Something like excitement curled into your stomach, until you realized with a pang of disappointment that Mattheo’s disapproval of Pucey reached far deeper than some Ball. He was always raving and raging about him when he returned from his Quidditch practices, and made you card your hands through his curls until he considered himself appeased. Naturally, he wouldn’t want one of his best friends going out with his least favorite housemate. Naturally. Platonically. Disappointingly.

Pansy was the first one to speak again, the grin had found its way back onto her face as she turned to you once more. “So, that’s the verdict then, love? No secret admirers to swipe you away to the night of your life?”

She jiggled her brows suggestively, biting down on her bottom lip in a not so subtle way that made you chuckle and shake your head at her. Raising your hands in mock surrender, you leaned back into Mattheo whose chest seemed to be rising and falling a bit faster as he glared at Pansy. “No secret admirers that I know of.”

A low scoff sounded behind you, as Mattheo seemed much more eager to join the conversation than during the last half hour. “They wouldn’t be very secret if they knew what was good for them.”

Merlin, sometimes you wished he would talk more like your friend and less like… well, whatever this was. But his brows were furrowed so beautifully you could barely think about the implications of his words, or the way Pansy shrunk back instinctively at the look he was giving her, fingers curling around your thigh. Otherwise, you’d surely have scolded him for scowling at her like that.

Blaise hummed, rubbing circles on Pansy’s back and giving you a sly look. “You should go with someone … unexpected,” he suggested, mocking a thoughtful tone and expression, “Shake things up, y’know? Maybe you could release Enzo from his misery. Gryffindor Miss perfect with a Slytherin pureblood, story writes itself, doesn’t it?” You could hear his voice was meant to provoke, just who you weren’t sure. Because you merely laughed at the clearly unserious idea.

But over the amused look you shared with Pansy, you missed the way Enzo widened panicked eyes at Blaise as if he’d just thrown him under the bus, as well as the way Mattheo pulled you depper into his lap. You followed the urge subconsciously and leaned your head against his, still grinning. “Someone shocking, you say?” you picked up his statement, careful not to be too obvious, “Like who? Apart from poor Enzo, I mean.”

“Not fucking Pucey, that’s for sure,” said Mattheo under his breath and you bit down on your tongue, swallowing your disappointment. Pansy threw you a knowing look that you pretended not to see. You were being absolutely ridiculous.

A long, dramatically exasperated sigh came from the armchair near the fire were Draco was still sprawled out, toying with a loose strand of the leather cushions. “You could always go with Mattheo,” he suggested what you hadn’t had the guts to- quite ironic though it was; and ran his eyes over your intertwined figures. “Since you two can’t seem to spend five minutes apart anyway.”

In an attempt to overplay your flusteredness that he had brought it up, just said it out loud, while you were seated in Mattheo’s lap no less and one of his hands dipped under your shirt to bury itself in the meat of your tummy, you chuckled and scratched the back of your neck. Craning your head around, you smiled humorously at your friend. “What, and boost his ego even more?”

For the first time in a while, an actual grin finally played around his lips again as he kneaded the flesh of your belly, throwing you a challenging look. “You love my ego.”

Because one couldn’t simply lie to Mattheo without him knowing, you turned away with a laugh instead of answering his question. Joining in, Pansy watched the outline of Mattheo’s fingers against your shirt and smirked. Her glance back up at him was a silent promise not to let the topic go so easily, and he rolled his eyes at her behind your back.

“You do have standards, right?” asked Blaise lazily, passing around a bar of dark chocolate and shuffling around on the sofa to put his head in Pansy’s lap, who raised her brow but didn’t throw him off. Instead, she returned her attention to you.

“You should definitely go with someone who can actually dance,” she said, smirking.

You nudged Mattheo in the side, not catching the look in his eyes as they snapped up to your bright face. “So, not Mattheo then?”

Suddenly, his body seemed on alert again, no longer leaning against the cushions as his lips seemed to hover somewhere near your ear. If it was any indication, his breath fanned your earlobe and you had to suppress a shiver as his voice sounded low, next to your ear. “You don’t even know what I can do, sweetheart.”

Ah. Sweetheart. Damn the way your insides were curling with the way the nickname rolled off his tongue so smoothly. Mattheo had tried out many of those before settling on sweetheart, for some reason. You had loved every single one, from doll to darling to princess, but for some reason, Mattheo had decided that sweetheart was around to stay. So, now you were his sweetheart. In any sense but the literal one.

“Well,” said Enzo, carefully examining Mattheo, as if gauging if he was in a mood to be reasoned with. Not that he had to worry, Enzo was probably the fastest runner out of your friend group, always the least likely to get in trouble for a brawl or altercation because he was the first who disappeared from the scene of the crime, even before the teachers showed up, keeping him his prefect’s badge. “I heard something through the grapevine the other day-”

You believed to know what was coming now and your eyes widened as you shook your head at him. But Pansy leaned forwards eagerly, ignoring Blaise’s protests. “Go on!”

“Ah,” said Enzo, clearly deriving some sort of pleasure from having everyone hang onto his every word. “You see, some little birdie told me you had been asked out by Potter.”

Closing your eyes, you let the round of jeers and whistles that swept the others wash over you and buried your face in your hands, burning with embarrassment. When you looked up again, you met the eyes of five attentive listeners, eager to hear your side of the story. Even Theo had marked his page with an index finger and raised a brow at you expectantly. Only Mattheo was eerily still beneath you, his fingers having halted all movement.

“How do you get all this information?” you asked Enzo incredulously, rubbing the back of your neck again and trying to deflect from the fact he had just dropped- knowing nothing would fulfill your friends’ curiosity but your explanation.

“I have my sources,” said Enzo secretively and tapped his fingers against each other, watching you over them. “And it seems like they’re reliable.”

“You’re not- you know- going with him?” asked Pansy in an almost disgusted voice and you frowned at her. “I declined. But even if I didn’t, what would be wrong with that? He’s my friend after all.”

Your friends fell silent, probably swallowing down a round of insult they would gladly chat about once you were gone. Thinking of which, your eyes snapped to the clock above the fireplace and you jolted a bit when you saw the time. Before Pansy could open her mouth to ask you another question, you interrupted her. “Alright, this has been fun, but I’m leaving before this conversation gets worse- or before Filch starts patrolling the corridors.”

As you shifted to get up from his lap, Mattheo’s arm around your waist tightened instinctively, his fingers pressing into your side just enough to make you hesitate. You pushed against his chest lightly, but he didn’t budge, his grip lazy yet firm- like he wasn’t quite ready to let you go. Or, perhaps, punishing you, for being asked out by Harry.

“Mattheo,” you murmured, half amused, half embarrassed because all your friends were watching with teasing eyes and matching grins.

But he only smirked, his dark eyes flickering up to yours with a glint of something unreadable. “What?” he drawled, feigning innocence even as his hold on you lingered, burning against your skin. It took another small shove- this time with a bit more force behind it- for him to finally release you, his hands dragging down your sides as you slipped free, leaving behind a warmth that made your skin tingle even long after you stood.

“Yeah,” said Theo slowly, tapping his fingers against the back of his book as his eyes lingered on Mattheo, who was now looking at you in a way that made it quite difficult for you to move your feet in the right direction- and steadily at that. “You better go before Mattheo combusts.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes at Theo, though his gaze was still firmly locked on you. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to ruin the fun.”

With a light-hearted giggle, you pushed past the sofas and armchairs and waved them goodbye, earning a round of “Good night”s and “Have fun with the lions” in return. As your figure disappeared in the common room entrance, Mattheo's eyes lingered on the wall sealing itself again, as if you were still standing there.

“Well, that was painful,” commented Theo, leaning back against the cushions and glancing over at his best mate. “Watching you struggling not to show how much you care who she goes with.”

“I don’t,” the other lied, knowing it was in vain when he saw the devilish smirk spread on Pansy’s face. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care,” she emphasized the last words sarcastically, “you sure grabbed her like she was yours.”

You were. Feeling annoyed at the lot of them and knowing he would be subjected to a great deal of teasing until Theo’s desire for a smoke reached the level of his, Mattheo leaned back against the couch and rolled his eyes, trying not to focus his mind on the memory of you flush against him- right where he liked you best. “She was already sitting there. What, you wanted me to throw her off?,” he snarled back, glaring at one of the portraits to avoid Pansy’s raised brows. When it came to affairs of romance, she was surprisingly sharp. No wonder she seemed to know how much he fucking adored you.

Next to him, Theo coughed a false, ironic cough and Mattheo knew he couldn’t expect any support from that side either. “Mate, your hand was on her hip like you were staking a claim,” Theo drawled, giving him a smug look that Mattheo returned, unimpressed. “You want me to put my hand on your hip instead?”

“Dios mio, no,” replied Theo under his breath, reopening his book but still actively listening to the conversation unfolding.

Again, it was Pansy who broke the silence with a daring grin, crooking her head at Mattheo. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re mad she hasn’t asked you to the ball yet.”

Mattheo deadpanned, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, yeah, Pans. I’m devastated.”

“You know,” Enzo piqued up now, smiling casually in the knowledge that he was on the winning side in this. “If you asked her nicely, maybe she’d go out with you.”

Leaning forwards, Mattheo gave him a sardonic smile, sneering, “Oh right.” His tone was mocking, exaggerated. “‘Please, love of my life, light of my existence, will you attend the stupidest event of the year with me?'” He did his best to sound nonchalant, as if the mere idea of asking you out on a date was absurd and not the subject of his more innocent daydreams.

But irony could only do so much to conceal how much he really meant the words, how they opened the door to a path to his deepest, darkest desires that he would rather not open right now. No, he preferred to visit those darker corridors of his sacreligious existence when he was alone, in his dorm, shame and excitement curling in his chest as he imagined you how he could never have you. Where nobody could see just how much you meant to him.

Draco let out a scoff from his place by the fire and everyone turned towards him instead. “Imagine if she said yes to Potter,” he said, expression morphing into one of disgust. “Imagine them slow dancing.” Mattheo, who knew exactly what purpose hid behind those carefully chosen words, couldn’t help but tightening his jaw at the idea, the image. If he hadn’t hated Potter enough already, the idea itself would have done it.

“Imagine me hexing you into next week,” he growled at Malfoym who fell silent immediately, but earned himself an appraising nod from Pansy.

“What if she actually did go with Potter though?” Blaise pried further, smirking up at him from where his head rested in Pansy’s lap.

Mattheo felt his patience undeniably tested, fingers flexing against his tense legs as one of them started to bounce restlessly. Merlin, how he could have smashed Blaise’s stupid, grinning face into this stupid, grinning portrait to make them both stop mocking him. But that would prove all of them right, and maybe he didn’t even want to admit to himself how much the image bothered him, how much it made him want to storm up to Gryffindor tower to eliminate the threat himself. “Then Hogwarts would need a new chosen one,” he gruffed out, voice low as his fingers itched for a cigarette.

The topic of you and your friendship had been one of great interest these past few months, ever since it had become normal for you to rest on each other's lap, run your fingers through each other's hair or sleep over in each other’s dorm. It had raised more than a few eyebrows, but Mattheo had always smirked them away, relishing in showing you off. This loose but ever-present claim he had on you, that made him feel perfectly entitled to stare down any boy you crossed when walking through the halls with him, it had been enough for him.

Up until now, it seemed. When they had gotten brazen enough to think that they could dare ask out his girl. Only that you weren’t, he had to remind himself. No matter how often he touched you, it wouldn’t make you his, properly, until he worked up the courage to ask you. But there was just one problem: himself. And the danger he put you in by making you something more than a friend.

“What makes you think I even want to go out with her?” he asked roughly, brows scrunched up in a bitter frown and aching for something to soothe his nerves. You would have been ideal, but alas, you were gone and he needed another, a lesser fix. When he glanced up, he was met with four pairs of raised brows, as his friends all stared at him incredulously.

“Mate,” said Enzo in a voice that suggested he was trying to reason with him. “You just had her in your lap. You glare at any guy who even looks at her. You beat up Zacharias Smith when he stood her up so bad he had to spend the holiday in St. Mungos, and the only reason you weren’t charged with something was because you literally threatened to kill him if he spoke to someone about it.”

Mattheo glowered at the ground, conflicting emotions clawing at his chest, desperate for release. He felt it again. The whirlwind of his own self, all-consuming, unstoppable, but by the your touch, the sound of your voice. When he felt like he was hovering with one foot over the abyss, threatening to be swept up by the confusing storm raging against the confines of his body, you were the only one able to reach him, reach out to him, calm his whirling thoughts, his flaring temper.

No wonder Enzo always ran for you whenever it looked like he was about to start a fight. He knew how utterly disarmed he was when you looked at him with those pretty wide eyes of yours. How your worry extinguished any and all rage inside him, making something else entirely pulse in his chest.

“Can’t I be a good friend?” he asked, sarcastically. But he knew the charade wasn’t fooling anyone anymore. Hell, it was not even fooling himself.

Pansy’s voice sounded surprisingly genuine, the teasing, though still present, taking a backseat to a hesitant reaching out. “Well, I think she would like you better as her boyfriend.”

Not wanting to even acknowledge the sincerity of the words, allow himself to think of the real possibility, get his damn hopes up only to get them squashed down again, he sniggered mockingly at her, a contemptuous smile dancing around his lips. Detached. “Well, I think she would have given some sort of indicator or signal if she felt that way.”

A stunned silence followed as all of them, even Theo, seemed completely taken aback. Pansy and Blaise shared an is he actually being serious right now sort of look and Enzo blinked, perplexedly, at his friend. All of them, completely stupefied with the blatant ignorance of the both of you. They had taken you to be oblivious because of some vague romantic insecurity, but Mattheo could usually be trusted to be quite observant, especially when it came down to you. His friends tended to tease him for being so much of a guard dog, having developed some kind of sixth sense for boys looking at you with greedy eyes and how he would press a quick goodbye kiss to your temple before excusing himself to go and sort them out.

But here he was, being so utterly oblivious to the way you clearly reciprocated his affections- how you would barely manage to conceal your blushing, how your eyes would linger on him, how you would stare at him lovingly when lost in thought, how he would always be your very first priority, how you would drop everything you were doing to come help him, even if it was about something some would consider utterly meaningless.

But alas, his ignorance seemed to match yours, and they had to sit and watch, growing ever more frustrated with the way you pined and yearned for each other without ever getting a fucking move on.

Theo was the first to break the silence, brow raised at Mattheo who still stubbornly glared at te ground. “So, what’s the plan? Keep glaring at every guy who looks at her until she magically realizes you’re in love with her?”

He had dropped the magic word. the l-word, that would never make it past Mattheo’s lips and could barely enter his thoughts, as if it was a trigger. Any time he heard it, he cringed involuntarily. But he was too tired of this day and this damn converssation to correct him. “Worked out so far,” he shrugged.

Theo rolled his eyes at him, and from the way his fingers twitched agitatedly against the bookcase, Mattheo knew he was just as eager for a smoke as him, meaning he would provide him with a way out of this fucking therapy session in under five minutes. The guy was just as addicted to nicotine as he was. “And how would you feel about it if someone asks her out tomorrow who she wouldn't be so quick to decline. How would you feel about it when she turns up to the ball with someone other than you?”

Nothing, was what he meant to say. But the words didn’t make it past his lips. They were chocked by the image of you, hanging onto another guy’s arm, laughing for another guy, dancing with another guy. Something dangerous coiled in his stomach, like a snake, ready to attack but with no one to sink its teeth into but himself.

“Fucking hell,” he cursed darkly, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles were plain white, close to cracking, or so it seemed to him.

Theo nodded appreciatively, rising from his seat as Mattheo followed, running a calloused and shaky hand over his face. “You know what to do then.”

When you pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady, you were greeted with a warmth both the Slytherin common room and the halls of Hogwarts had been missing. Loud chattering and laughter filled the room, the figures of many Gryffindor students in the golden hue of the cackling fireplaces. Where Slytherin’s common room was undeniably more stylish and sophisticated, your common room was just cozy.

You spotted your friends sitting by the fire, having snatched the best sofa for themselves. Hermoine seemed to be working on an essay, Ginny’s nose was buried in her book, and over the rim of the worn out cushions, you spotted the heads of Harry and Ron, setting on the carpeted floor between sofa and fireplace. Walking over to them, you let your bag down with a thud that made some of them turn their heads and smile in greeting, though you could see the light frowns on some of their faces.

They were equally as unpleased about your friendship with their Slytherin peers as they were about your Gryffindor housemates. Really, it was only natural, seeing as the two groups had a history of picking petty fights with each other and landing the others in the hospital wing. At least some of them held their frustration with the others back for the quidditch pitch, but the same couldn’t be said for all of them.

But your friends’ disapproival of your Slytherin friendgroup was nothing compared to their objection to your attachment to Mattheo Riddle, son of Lord Voldemort himslef and Harry’s personal nemesis since first grade. Not only were they among the students whispering about his reputation and dark legacy behind his back, Harry (and Ron) had also been on the receiving end of Mattheo's fists before- and hit back.

As you sat down between Hermoine and Ginny on the couch, you saw that Harry and Ron were sitting on the carpet, facing each other, a board of wizard chess in between them. The game seemed to have been going on for a while already, as a larger pile of defeated white figures and a smaller one of black figures lay by the side of the board. Harry seemed to be losing, as anyone would, against Ron. Watching Ron make a clever move against him, you lamented that you would love to see him play with Theo- it would certainly be a battle for the ages.

Ron looked up from the game when you got comfortable in the squishy cushions of the worn-out sofa and his eyes ran over you for a second, as if checking for injuries. “How was the snakepit?” he asked, and though it was humorous, his voice held an underlying tension.

“Anyone bite you?” asked Ginny from behind the shitty romance book she was currently hate-reading, a teasing tone evident in her voice. Out of all of them, Ginny was probably the most chill about your ties to the Slytherins, as she herself didn’t give much of a shit about house rivalries. “Anyone you’d want to bite you?” she added, making you huff out a small laugh under your breath.

“I am unharmed, thank you,” you said, a bit curtly at the condescending tone of Ron’s question. Just as it was with your Slytherin friends, you’d always defend your ties to the other group when they talked shit about each other- in the full knowledge that it would never change anything, and they would just keep hating each other.

When Mattheo had suggested you shouldn't waste your breath trying to stand up for your friends when their hostility ran too deep to ever be dismantled, you had asked if he’d say that about you defending him in front of your friends too. Thinking back to his taken-aback expression, you had to suppress a smile. Mattheo had never again tried to convince you not to stick up for your friends, but when you'd slept over at his dorm a few nights later, he’d asked you if you had been serious about defending him to your friends. He hadn’t looked at you, but you had heard the vulnerability in every gruff grumble of his tone.

Hermoine’s matter of fact voice drew your attention back to the situation at hand. “Did he finally ask you?” she inquired, scratching a loudly purring crokshanks behind the ear.

You knew what she was talking about, of course, and averted your eyes. Concealing your disappointment, you pretended to be interested in Harry's and Ron's game, where Ron now checkmated Harry, making him groan loudly. “No,” you answered in your best impression of indifference.

Harry, who had not been paying attention to the conversation due to his humiliating defeat, finally admitted his loss and turned his attention to the couch. “y/n?” he addressed you, chiming in, and you raised your brows at him inquiringly. Wringing his hands, he seemed a little embarrassed. “So… remember when I asked you about being my date for the Yule Ball?”

“Vividly,” you answered, nodding.

In fact, you did. In this very same common room, at about one in the morning, he’d called back to you when you’d made your way back up the stairs to the girl's dormitories. Due to procrastinating your homework of the last week, you had been staying up to complete several essays, with only him as your company. Being the Quidditch team captain and assigned the duties coming along with the position, he’d been behind his course work as well until the last embers of the fire had burned down. In the total darkness, he’d asked you to come with him to the yule ball- as a friend, of course. But you had declined the offer, still foolishly hoping that Mattheo might put his money where his mouth was and ask you out instead.

Harry rubbed his neck, sounding just as embarrassed as that night. “Yeah, well, I still kind of don’t really have a date yet ...”

General laughter took over the group at his red-faced confession. Next to you, Ginny giggled, shifting her concentration back onto her book, as Hermoine shook her head with a little smile. “Absolutely pathetic, mate,” commented Ron, collecting the chess figures and board to store them back in one of the shelves beside the fireplace.

“Hey,” said Harry indignantly, raising his brows at him, “you had to get asked by Hermoine because you didn’t have the balls to ask her herself!” More laughter followed his words and you clutched your sides, glancing over at Hermoine who was chuckling to herself as her eyes skimmed the parchment for any errors she might have missed. “He does have a point," she smiled.

Ron groaned at her, as if she had just delivered a brutal stab to his back, and let himself fall back onto the carpet as the laughter subsided. When he was done grinning at Ron’s humiliation, Harry turned back to you in a business-like manner. “Alright, I’ll be asking you one last time before i accept my fate as the sad, date-less guy for the night.”

His words reminded you that you, too, were among the last people to not have a date for the night, probably in the entire school. Pretty much all of your friends already had partners, and really, it wasn’t only true that you were Harry’s last resort, he was also yours, since Mattheo didn’t seem remotely interested in the idea of taking you out for the ball.

“And that would be different from the usual how?” Ginny asked with raised brows, still not looking up from her book.

“You’re not helping, Ginny,” Harry deadpanned at her before turning back to you, a pleading look in his eyes. “Look. You don’t have a date. I don’t have a date. And, speaking for myself here, if I don’t find one, McGonnagall might force me to take Mrs. Norris out of pity.”

The thought made you break out into a fit of giggles, picturing Harry dancing with the caretaker’s grumpy cat. Ron, who seemed to feel a similar way, grinned. “Now that’s a mental image I didn’t need.”

“Mrs. Norris in a tiny gown…,” said Ginny dreamily, turning a page in her book and making Harry roll his eyes at his friends’ antics.

Feigneing support, you patted his shoulder and offered empathetic, constructive advice. “Why not take Filch himself while you’re at it? I’m sure he’s a great dancer.”

Harry rubbed at his temples and shook his head at the round of laughter that followed your words. “Okay, so, moving on-,” he turned his gaze back to you, serious once more. “You are my best option.”

“Flattering, Harry,” you joked, “And they say chivalry is dead.” Smiling, you averted your eyes to think properly and instead focused them upon crookshanks who was striding towards you on the couch. You started to pet him, earning a mechanical sort of purr from the old cat, as you contemplated the situation.

“Listen,” said Harry, dragging himself on the carpet in your direction. “It’s a good pitch. We’ll go as friends, no pressure, no drama, no expectations- just two people avoiding being total losers together.”

Crookshanks began purring with more enthusiasm as you scratched him behind the ears, hesitating. “I mean… I guess?” It wasn’t like he didn’t have a point. Turning up alone would be less than favorable, especially since all your friends had dates for the night, except Harry. Honestly, you’d probably spend most of the night with him anyway, due to that fact. Might as well make it official.

The scratching of Hermpoine’s quill next to you had stopped as she looked at you over the rim of her parchment. “You guess?” she asked, eyes narrowed. You shrugged, instead of relaying the lengthy explanation for your hesitation. In spite of what Pansy constantly tried to convince you off, you were quite sure by now that Mattheo wasn’t going to ask you- which was fine. Really. It was absolutely fine with you. Except for the part where it wasn’t at all.

Maybe it was because Pansy had gotten your hopes up about this. Any time you had expressed your doubts about your friendship with Mattheo to her, she’d roll her eyes at you and tell you all sorts of things: how he’d been responsible for McLaggen’s unlucky incident that sent him to St Mungos after he had stood you up, how he would look at you with, as she put it, ‘a disgustingly lovesick stare’, how he would always find ways to bring you up in conversation when you weren’t around, his mind floating back to you regardless of the context, either stating or guessing what your opinion might be on the matter.

‘Honestly,’ she’d say, ‘That boy is so in love with you it’s embarrassing to sit next to. Like, truly appalling. And even worse to sit by while he always cops out of asking you out officially.’

But either way, whether what she was saying was true or a misguided guess, or a kind lie, you were quite sure he wouldn’t be making a move before Christmas. Did you really want to turn up without a date and watch him spend the night with some other girl dangling from his arm? He had enough of them at his disposal, in spite of his parentage or reputation. And, really, if he was doing these things in spite of your blatant signaling, in spite of being so weirdly territorial over you, you might as well go out with a guy that would tickle his nerves. See how he felt about that. As his arch-nemesis, Harry would certainly be ideal in that regard.

“You wanted Riddle to ask you, didn't you?” Hermoine’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, her gaze knowing as it rested on you.

You felt caught and sat up a little straighter. “...no.” Curse your denial to come out so hesitantly. But really, she was right. There had been nothing you had been more excited for than the possibility of going out with your best friend, back when the yule ball had been announced. And now, this.

Ron pointed an accusatory finger at you, frowning. “That was the least convincing no I’ve ever heard.”

Meanwhile, Ginny was giggling away at your side. “You so did,” she called your bluff and patted your leg in false pity.

With a long, desperate groan, you buried your face in your hands. “Ugh, shut up, please!”

But Ginny, still laughing, only marked her page with a bookmark and threw it aside onto a nearby table to turn her whole attention to you. “Merlin, this is so much better than my book!”

To quell all of their teasing at once - you could see Ron opening his mouth to add to your embarrassment and even Hermoine seemed to have something to say as she put away her parchment - you lifted your head from the palms of your hands and raised them to bring about silence. However, only your next words could get their attention. “Alright, alright, sure!” you called, face burning, “I’ll go with you, Harry.”

Whistling loudly, Ron earned himself a stern glare from Hermoine. When she had silenced his appreciative teasing, she turned to you, slightly frowning now. Meanwhile, Harry fisted the air, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “You won’t regret it, I promise. I’ll be the best fake date you’ve ever had.”

These words did manage to make your lips twitch into a small smile. “That is not a very high bar, Harry.”

Still frowning worriedly, Hermoine, ever the voice of reason, leaned towards you and placed a hand on your leg. “You don’t have to say yes just because Harry is desperate, you know that, right?”

“Wow, thanks, Hermoine,” said Harry sarcastically from the side, but she ignored him. Hoping to calm her worries, you smiled at her.

If you were being truthful, you would admit that this wasn’t a purely altruistic move on your part. Actually, you were hoping for some benefit to come out of this arrangement for you, as well. Maybe you could finally figure out if Mattheo felt anything more for you than friendship, if you forced his hand by going with his biggest rival. But you would rather have Harry and the others think you were just doing your friend a favor, a far more noble motivation than these darker intentions.

But Ginny seemed to see right through you. “Oh, come on. We all know you’re just saying yes to make Riddle jealous,” she blatantly called you out, earning herself a round of chuckles as the blood rushed to your face.

“That’s not-” you lied, a blushing and embarrassed mess and probably very obvious. You had never been that good at lying, and at least Mattheo said that he appreciated it, being surrounded with a group of friends who were just as good at lying as seeing through the lies of others. That he felt less like he had to watch his every step with you. He liked your openness, and he found your blushing adorable, always pinching your cheeks when you did and only worsening your situation most of the time.

Ginny curled with laughter at your feeble attempts to hide your true attention. “It totally is, who are you trying to convince here?” she asked, amusedly and you breathed a long sigh. Why did all this have to be so complicated? Feelings and people and dances.

But at least Harry seemed to take mercy on you, which was the least he could do after you’d given into his desperate pleas. “Alright, it’s settled then,” he sounded over Ginny’s laughter, giving you a trusted smile, “You and me- two best mates, going to the ball together. No weirdness.”

“No weirdness,” you repeated, quite thankful.

But Ginny quirked a teasing brow at you. “Except for when Riddle inevitably loses his mind over it." The idea ignited a spark of hope in you that you immediately felt bad for. Of course you didn’t want to make Harry a pawn in your game- but it may have been a sacrifice you were willing to make. However, you certainly didn’t want to put him at risk of spending time in the hospital wing or anything. Which was not that far-fetched of a worry.

“Not my problem,” shrugged Harry at Ginny’s words and you bit down on your lip. “It might be.”

Your words had been but a quiet mutter, but Ginny picked up on them and grinned at you with an expression that eerily reminded you of Pansy at the prospect of some juicy new drama. “On a scale of one to absolute insanity, how bad do you think he’s gonna take it?”

Sighing deeply and wringing your hands in your lap, you gave her a sheepish look, trying not to glance at Harry when you said, “I’m hoping for mild irritation.”

Ginny’s eyebrows shot up until they almost reached her hairline. Harry, too, seemed quite skeptical, as he leaned against the couch and frowned up at you. “And expecting?”

A small smile tugged at your lips, but you weren’t in a mood for joking. “...Something between homicide and setting the entire venue on fire,” you replied, hesitantly but probably as a more realistic estimation of the prospects. Regardless of whether or not Mattheo liked you, he surely didn’t take kindly to any boy getting, in his opinion, too close to you-especially not the Chosen One, whom he’d been pitted against since the first time he’d set foot on the doorstep of the castle.

“So, about a nine?” asked Ron, chuckling, and making the rest of you laugh again. It resoilved some of the tension that had been lingering in the air, the knowledge of a looming confrontation. Leaning over to you with faux secrecy, Ron said, “Just don’t come crying to us when he inevitably drags you into some dark corridor for a dramatic argument.”

“She’s hoping for that,” smirked Ginny, rolling her eyes- if at you or at her brother, you weren’t sure. Honestly, both of you deserved it.

Suddenly, Harry stood up from the carpet and straightened out his shirt, grinning dowm at you. Again, he had a business-like air about him. “Alright, if we’re doing this. we’re doing it properly.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, chuckling at his sudden enthusiasm.

Harry tipped an imaginary hat. “If i have to face the wrath of Mattheo Riddle, I at least want to look good while doing it” All of you chuckled at his determination and Ginny whistled. “Now, that’s the spirit.”

The first day of the holidays brought the first proper snow of the winter. Overnight, the snowflakes had danced quietly onto the earth and had turned the castle grounds into a fairytale landscape. The dark forest was no longer a black but a white mass, somehow less threatening and more inviting. But who would have felt the desire to disappear into the trees when the castle was buzzing with warmth and christmas joy?

The excitement for the yule ball especially was apparent everywhere, as students stood in the courtyard, huddled together in groups against the cold, and discussed dress robes and hairstyles for the next day's evening. A blanket of snow lay thick upon the stone gargoyles as you passed them, trotting behind Harry and Ron with Hermoine by your side. Your crunching steps left footprints in the white, glistening layer as you listened to Harry and Ron how much cake they would need for the afterparty in the common room.

Reaching the protection of the castle wall, you stood together, shielded against the sharp winter winds, as Ron started to change the topic to the amounts of firewhiskey they could smuggle in. “The thing is,” he said with a fervor you could rarely spot with him in class-related situations. “The Slytherins have the best connections to the hogshead, so we had a bit of trouble even finding someone who would give us hard liquor. We tried pretending to be McGonnagall to trick Madam Rosmerta into sending some up to the castle, but I don’t think it worked because she didn’t answer our owl.”

“Have you considered to pass yourself off as a teacher a bit more… relaxed than Professor McGonnagall?,” you suggested, looking from Harry to Ron with an amused expression.

“She’s the only professor who’s writing I could mimic,” said Harry, shrugging. “You have connections in Slytherin, right? Maybe you could get us some firewhiskey.” Hermoine murmured something like a reasonable objection into her scarf, but there was a lenient glinting in her eyes when she looked at Ron, who suddenly seemed hopeful at the idea. For once, not overly critical of your other friendships.

“Nah,” you said, deriving a certain satisfaction from seeing their hopeful expressions crumble. “Get your own connections. I’m not catching shit from McGonnagall for being responsible for your alcoholism.”

“Says the one with the nicotine addicted whatever he is to you,” said Hermoine, arms crossed tightly over her chest for warmth, with a smile and you huffed out an amused chuckle, your breath swirling in transcendent forms in the air before mingling with theirs and fading.

“But you bring up a good point,” said Harry, “The real question is: how would we even get all of it past McGonnagall and up to Gryffindor tower? I mean, we could use the invisibility cloak, but-”

Abruptly, he fell silent, and just the split of a second later did you realize the reason why, when the familiar smell of cigarettes and leather alerted you, with pin-point accuracy, who the culprit of Harry’s sudden discontinuation was. A shadow loomed over the four of you, huddled into your corner, and the easy atmosphere shattered like glass. You did not need him to speak to know who it was.

“Mind if I steal her for a moment?”

Mattheo’s voice was low, edged with amusement, but laced with something else as well, something unreadable. Ron and Hermoine whipped around, sharply, at the sound of his voice, Ron stepping in front of her slightly, as if on instinct. However, you turned only reluctantly, already aware who you’d find standing there, but not knowing whether you were keen on talking to him and revealing the inevitable bomb that might set him off.

Mattheo was leaning against the castle wall, mere feet from you. His dark eyes flickered over your friends with a lazy kind of scrutiny, lips twitching when he caught the way Hermoine’s posture stiffened and Ron’s expression darkened. His gaze lingered on Harry for half a second longer than necessary. Harry straightened slightly, shoulders squaring, and shifted as if to protest, but before he could speak, Mattheo cut him off with an easy smirk and a tilt of his head. “Relax, Potter, I won’t bite.” His gaze flickered back to you, locking onto yours as his smirk shifted into something more… deliberate. “Unless you ask nicely.”

He extended a hand- not touching you, just gesturing you forward, but the implication was clear. The moment seemed to stretch, a thick tension settling in the chilly air, before you stepped away from the wall, brushing a bit of snow off your sleeve. Behind you, Hermoine let out a barely audible sound of disapproval, Ron muttered something, in all likelihood, rude under his breath and Harry shifted slightly in your field of vision, as if he wanted to step in. But you threw them a pleading look not to make a thing out of it and walked over to Mattheo’s side, raising your brows at him in silent inquiry.

His eyes studied your expression, before he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you away. With a last little smile to your friends, you told them goodbye and walked away with him, not registering the slow, smug glance Mattheo gave them over his shoulder as he turned with you towards the entrance.

But the castle didn’t seem to be his desired destination. Instead, he led you down the flight of stairs connecting the courtyard and the greenhouses, all the while silent. You stocked it up to his bad mood. In truth, it was nervosity.

Mattheo had been rolling it around in his head all night, ever since he’d watched you leave the common room last night, Theo's dark suggestion still ringing in his ears, the cursed images of you with Potter, of all people, still haunting him. He’d already given Pucey his piece of mind about him considering to ask you out, but he knew you would mind - a lot - if he had a go at Harry that was so clearly provocated by himself. Knowing you wouldn’t forgive him too easily if he rearranged Potter’s face just a few days before christmas, and considering the massive truthbomb that was the fact that he, in actuality, held no claim over you. Yet.

Finally, after staring at the ceiling stubbornly for a good few hours, making his way through what was left of his last pack of cigarettes and not getting a minute of sleep, he’d finally not only worked up the courage, but also the words to finally, finally ask. But now, as he led you down the icy stairs, vigilant you wouldn’t trip, both the nerve and the ability to articulate himself seemed to have left him. Maybe he should have gotten some sleep before this after all. Or consumed anything other than black coffee and nicotine before approaching you to ask you- possibly the only question that really mattered.

When you reached the greenhouses, he leaned against one of the glass walls, fogged up against the cold, hands buried in his coat pockets. Feeling nervous, you moved to stand on the bit of snow-covered grass in front of him, sneaking glances up at him, his furrowed brows, his clenched jaw. “So,” he said slowly, as if weighing every word, “About the ball.”

“Oh,” you made, swallowing. With a nervous little nod, you wrung your frost-bitten hands and looked up into his brown eyes, so beautiful against the cold white sky. They were surprisingly calm, given the news you thought would enrage him. Maybe it didn’t matter to him after all. “So you heard, then?”

But Mattheo tilted his head, incredulously. “Heard what, exactly?” Oh shit. Perplexedly, you blinked up at him, having assumed he would have heard by now through Enzo’s miraculous grapevines, and that that was the reason he had wanted a chat. “...that I’m going with Harry.”

Mattheo stilled, expression faltering for just a second before his jaw clenched- tight. His eyes, usually gleanming with lazy humour, darkened as they locked onto yours, the look in them almost making you take a step back before you could get your instincts back under control. “Potter?” he said, his voice deceptively calm, but you could see the way his fingers flexed, as if suppressing a sudden urge to clench them into fists. His tongue ran over his teeth, exhaling sharply through his nose like he was trying to reel himself in.

Mattheo felt the words hit im like a slap, over and over again. That I’m going with Harry. I’m going with Harry. I’m going with Harry. They twisted something inside him, and it hurt, though he’d rather die than let it show. Potter. Out of all the people in this godforsaken castle, it had to be him. His jaw was locked as he forced himself to keep his expression neutral, but he could feel the tightness in his chest, the way his fingers flexed and twitched with the urge to grab you- to shake some sense into you.

You tilted your head and looked up at him with those nervous, pretty eyes of yours, an unsure, hesitant smile playing around your lips. “What other Harrys could I possibly be referring to?” you asked, in a feeble attempt to bring some humour into the situation, light up his face that was grim and tight, as if in shadow.

Mattheo wanted to laugh, to show you how utterly unaffected he was by this news, and at the same time, he burned to throw out some sharp, cutting remark about how predictable it was, how you must have lost your damn mind. But the words felt heavy in his throat. Because it was a perfectly sane decision. Going out with Potter was probably way more sensible than going out with him.

Instead, he leaned back slightly, rolling his shoulders as if the news didn't settle like lead in his stomach. “Didn’t know you were into charity work now,” he drawled, voice deceptively smooth, but there was a cutting edge to it, a sharpness that wasn’t usually there- or rather, was usually directed at everyone but you.

“You’re really going with that bastard?” he asked, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. Not even looking into your eyes could calm the storm raging inside him now, as it spread through every fibre of his body, balled in his chest, reached the tips of his fingers as they almost shook with suppressed rage. Now, they were just a reminder of what he couldn’t have.

Of course you’d go with Potter, why would you have even considered him? When people were already whispering behind your back about you and your friendship with him, calling you names and giving you looks, calling you a house traitor and shallow or two-faced, the irony not even occurring to them. But Merlin, how he hated, how he detested, how he loathed that Harry was, sensibly, a better option for you than he would ever be.

He let out a slow breath through his nose, shaking his head slightly, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. He shouldn't even care. Since when had he let people get to him like this? But you weren't just anyone. You were you. You were his. And then again, you weren’t. And he shouldn’t be feeling this burning frustration curling in his chest, shouldn’t feel the itch in his fingers to grab your wrist and tell you to drop the whole fucking thing. But he did. And that pissed him off even more.

“He asked me as a friend,” you said, feeling the need to clarify. Why you had thought it would calm the storm raging in his eyes, you didn’t know, as a dry, sarcastic laugh fell from his lips, missing his usual casual teasing tone. “Oh, of course. Just friends.”

Your clueless frown only fueled his anger and he clicked his tongue impatient at you, taking some sick enjoyment in the way his glare made you recoil slightly. “Never taken you as naive before, sweetheart.” When he usually whispered the nickname, it was a flirty drawl, and accompanied by a teasing smirk, or just a casual, rare smile. Now, he spat it out, barely containing his frustration. But he wasn’t the only one irked by the other.

“Mattheo, I adore you,” you said firmly, frowning up at him, “But just because you’ve got a hidden motive behind everything doesn’t mean he has.” Trying to think of the right words, you bit down on your lower lip. “He just…”

“...didn’t find anyone as nice as you to take pity on him?” Mattheo finished your sentence, his brows raised with dry humor. You could tell he was trying to push your buttons now, deflecting from his own emotions by trying to get yours up, in an attempt to get the upper hand. Because with him, everything had to be a fight, a struggle, a confrontation.

Refusing to let him get to you, you crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him coolly. “Maybe I said yes because he actually asked me.”

Unexpectedly, his detached demeanor seemed to crack for just a second. Something shifted in his expression, flickering -or falling- before he got his features back under control. “Huh,” he made, and you were treated to the rare sight of Mattheo Riddle running out of words. His lips twitched grimly, brows furrowed.

Trying to stop him thinking of some sarcastic, meticulous provocation, you took a step towards him, your breath puffing in the air. “Yeah. Huh.”

Finally, an ironic smile forced itself upon his face, it almost seemed to pain him, as the way his nails dug into his palms had to. “So, you’re gonna spend the whole night batting your eyelashes at Mr. Gryffindor Golden Boy then?”

“Why do you care?” you asked quickly, trying to catch him off guard. Your eyes zeroed in on every twitch of his expression, looking for tell-tale signs- as he surely was, too. Was it platonic protectiveness and his disdain for his rival, Harry, or could it be jealousy? His eyes met yours, fiercely, his intense stare piercing you, and though your heart skipped a beat, you held his gaze, determined not to back down.

Mattheo leaned in slightly, getting close to your face with a mocking smile dancing around his lips. “I don’t,” he said with biting sarcasm. “I wish you the best of times with Potter.”

Scoffing, you averted your eyes. His proximity was suffocating, it was confusing, a round of sparks dancing in the pit of your stomach, so unlike the butterflies people always talked about. No, your love for him was explosive, it was brimming with glimmering tension, threatening to turn into a wildwire, expanding until it consumed you whole. And you’d burn gladly as long as you burned in his hold. “No, you don’t” you contered, looking back up to find him looking at you with such hunger in his brown eyes.

Mattheo grinned grimly, clicking his tongue in a way that could have drove you into a craze. “You’re right. Hope you trip in those ridiculous heels Pansy will make you wear.”

Pretending to be annoyed, you huffed out a long breath, caught somewhere in between amusement and exasperation. “You have no right to be mad, Mattheo.”

For a moment, the only sound between you was the distant howl of the wind in the courtyard archways above, the faint echo of laughter carried down to the greenhouses by the breeze as the truth of your words hung in the tense air between you. Mattheo was watching you, his jaw tight, his lips curved into that infuriating smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You could see it- how his amusement was forced, how something far more volatile simmered beneath the surface. His words from a second ago still hung between you, sharp-edged and taunting. “Who says I’m mad?”

Without thinking, you reached up, fingers curling around his jaw, your palm warm against the biting cold of his skin. His breath hitched- so soft, so fleeting you almost missed it- but his entire body went rigid, as if the contact had struck him like a spell. His dark eyes, always so unreadable, widened just slightly, caught between surprise and something else. You tilted his chin up just enough to meet his gaze fully, your thumb brushing over the sharp edge of his jaw, and then, with a voice quiet but unwavering, you murmured, “Your face.”

With a whiplash-inducing speed, his demeanor changed, his smirk turning seductive as he leaned into your touch, a disarming glint in his chocolate brown eyes. “And you’d no all about that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

It was unfair. He knew exactly how to tickle your nerves, and just when you’d thought you’d won the struggle for the upper hand, he flipped a card like this, completely taking you aback. The heat of your stomach seemed to rush into your cheeks and you glared at him, at the knowing look in his eyes. There was a reason he was in Slytherin. But there was also a reason you were in Gryffindor.

“I'll see you tomorrow at the ball,” you scoffed, frustrated, let go of his face and took a step back. You knew looking at him might make you turn back to either kiss or slap him, so you turned around sharply and stormed up the stairs back to the courtyard. He didn't follow you, but you could feel the burning piercing of his stare resting on your back.

Pansy’s dorm was alive with the flicker of enchanted candlelight, the air thick with the mingling scents of your perfumes, hairspray and the faintest trace of Pansy’s expensive vanilla-sandalwood lotion. You stood before her full-length mirror, smoothing your hands over the flowing green fabric of your dress as Pansy, perched on the edge of the bed, tilted her head in assessment. “Honey, you look absolutely gorgeous,” she concluded, rising from the bed to walk over to you and arrange the dress in areas.

Her's was already wrapped around her figure, complementing her curves. You tugged at the neckline of yours, unsure of how much cleavage you were showing. In the shop, it had somehow seemed less risque, though it had still been more than you would usually be comfortable with. “Are you sure?”

Halting her prodding movements and tugs, Pansy straightened up and rested her head on your shoulder, smirking at you through the mirror with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Am I sure you look gorgeous or that Mattheo will like it?”

The blush that shot up into your cheeks would have made any rouge unnecessary. “Pansy!” you hissed, glaring at her, but she only laughed and lifted her head from your shoulder to turn you away from the mirror and to her, for further inspection.

“Don’t worry,” she said, for once with a sincere look on her face and a warm smile gracing her lips. “He will fall in love with you all over again and beat Potter to death before he can even get a hand onto your waist.” Her eyes glinted. “At least after I’m done with your hair.”

In spite of her reassuring words, you let your critical eyes wander over your figure in the mirror as Pansy sat you down on a chair. Her fingers carded into your hair, brushing it out and parting it into sections as she got to work on pinning it up in elegant ways. Brows furrowed in concentration, her fingers worked as if she’d done it a million times before. You scanned her frowning face in the mirror's reflection, rolling her words over in your mind. Pansy was one of your best friends, she wouldn’t lie to you, but-

“Pans?” you asked into the quiet, making her hum in response and raise her brows at you. You opened your mouth, lips parted to beg for further reassurance- but you closed them again, swallowing. It wasn’t like they would convince you, not after having heard her constant encourages for months and never truly having believed them. Or had you? Was it the reason you were so disappointed about Mattheo not asking you out, like you felt you could expect it of him after all Pansy had told you? “Thanks,” you finally said.

Your defeated tone seemed to catch her attention as her eyes snapped up to meet yours in the mirror’s reflection. She frowned. “You know, for someone who’s got a date tonight, you don’t look very excited.”

“I am excited,” you lied, giving her a tense little smile she saw right through.

With raised brows, she got back to putting your hair up with a mix of barrettes, hairspray, and magic. “Mhm, try saying that again without sounding like you’re in mourning.” With a promising little smile, she nudged your shoulder. “I promise you the evening will still get rather exciting for you, even if Potter’s a bore.”

You sighed, unable to hold onto the words any longer as your hands clasped in your lap. “You always try to convince me that he likes me,” you said, without saying the name you were trying to avoid, because it was such a sinful pleasure to let it flow off your tongue, like a kid mumbling a curse word under the protection of its blanket, just to try out the sound of it. A forbidden sound, the promise of freedom. Why was it so hard to say his name, after you’d said it so many times these past few months? In scolding tones, in warning tones, in teasing tones, in affectionate tones. Most of the times, it was the latter- most of the time, he returned your name in the same way.

As you thought of the right way to express the confusion you felt over his actions, Pansy waited, sielntly, and delivered the last, finishing touches to your hair. “If he likes me, why didn’t he ask me?” you finally asked, simple enough.

The question made her sigh and roll her eyes as her perfectly manicured hands clasped down on your thinly clad shoulders. “Because he’s an idiot and a coward. Just like you. Don’t tell him I said that.” You returned her encouraging smile, though still feeling rather pessimistic. Pansy patted your shoulder. “Honestly, since when has Mattheo known to handle his feelings?”

“Fair point,” you sighed, as she released you and walked over to her desk, to her other mirror, displaying her makeup on the surface. As she started to put hers on, you opened your bag as well and got out what you needed, making sure to get none on your dress. For a few minutes, you worked in silent concentration, the quiet only broken by laughter and shouts from the Slytherin common room.

Because she’d insisted on helping you with your hair, you’d agreed to get ready with Pansy in her dorm on the big evening. You had been here for an hour, chatting, trying on each other’s dresses, flipping through magazines for hair and makeup inspiration. Now, it was only an hour until the start of the ball, and the excitement that brimmed in the whole castle even reached the Slytherin dorms in the dungeons. When you’d hurried through it with Pansy, the common room had been devoid of its usual calm and had rather reminded you of the Gryffindor common room on a rowdy saturday, with students mingling and mixing, chatting in excited voices, their anticipation barely contained behind their Slytherin coolness.

Pansy’s voice cut through your meandering thoughts, snapping you back to reality as you started to apply mascara. “When did you tell him, anyway? That you’re going with Potter?”

“Yesterday,” you answered, leaning forward to examine your work in detail. “Why?”

Even through her distant reflection in the mirror, you could distinctly make out her sudden smirk, pulling at her now full and red looking lips. “Oh, nothing,” she warbled innocently, though she looked as if she’d just unraveled a particularly thrilling christmas present. Her glinting eyes locking on your expression as she closed the lid on her lipstick was like a mouse trap snapping shut. “Just… Have I mentioned Mattheo has been a complete nightmare since yesterday?”

You paused mid lipgloss application to meet her eyes through the mirror, her words sinking in and coiling in the pit of your stomach. “...What?” you asked, trying not to sound too eager for her to expand on these seductive words.

Pansy grinned, turning to her mirror to deliver some last finishing touches to her face. “Oh, darling. He’s livid.”

“Why would he be livid?” you asked, frowning, getting back to your lipgloss. “It’s not like he cares.”

Pansy’s mock gasp told you she was not at all convinced by your reasoning- nor fooled by the false indifference in your voice. But she gave into your silent need for answers anyway, a knowing smile on her lips. “Oh, sure, that’s why he nearly hexed Enzo for breathing too loudly this morning.” She corrected the blend of her eyeshadow, enjoying the effect her words had on you. “Honestly, I should be mad at you for causing such an unbearable mood in our common room, but it’s just too entertaining.”

“I didn’t cause anything,” you deflected grumpily, glaring at your own reflection as if it were him, trying to convince yourself, trying not to let Pansy get your hopes up again and, at the same time, yearning for something to grasp onto. “Whatever’s got to him, I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with me.”

Making an unconvinced sound, Pans angled her face differently to admire it in different lighting. “Tell that to the poor first-year who had a nervous breakdown yesterday when Mattheo snapped at him for existing.”

“What?” you snapped sharply, frown deepening. Unfazed, Pansy rose from her seat and walked over to you, swaying her hips as she met your eyes in the mirror. You sighed at the grin on her face, getting back to applying your makeup. “He can be mad all he wants, it doesn’t change the facts.” Right. It changed nothing. You shouldn’t even care.

Pansy raised her perfectly lined brows at your attempts to seem indifferent. “Then why are you applying your lipgloss for the third time?” Before you could answer, she grabbed the lipgloss out of your hands, closed it and threw it back into your back. With a pull that left no room for protest, she tugged you up and towards the door. “You look fantastic. Come on, let’s get you out and about so you can meet your Chosen One up at Gryffindor tower.”

As you walked down the steps and stepped into the common room, your heart began to thrum in your chest at the realization that he’d probably be there. That he’d see you. In this dress. For a moment, you wished you’d gotten one with a more modest neckline, but then again, you burned to see his reaction.

It was as if you already felt it on the bottom step, as Pansy urged you into the common room. His presence, and then, the weight of his stare as you spotted him leaning against one of the leather couches beside Theo, dressed in, for once, unsullied dress robes. His gaze locked and you, your figure, and the tension in the air seemed thick enough to choke on.

Mattheo hadn’t even been looking, let alone waiting for you. At least that was what he told himself. But the moment the sound of heels clicking against the stone steps echoed through the common room, his body betrayed him. His fingers, lazily spinning a silver ring around his knuckle, stilled. His jaw clenched. And when he finally glanced up, just like he swore he wouldn’t, it was like taking a hit straight to the ribs.

You were stunning. Not just in the way that made his breath catch, but in the way that made his stomach twist, made something dark coil in his chest. Because you weren’t dressed for him. And yet, his first thought was that you should’ve been. His expression didn’t change, smirk perfectly in place, body draped in his usual lazy confidence- but his grip on his ring tightened, his throat felt dry, and he had to physically stop himself from shifting toward you. He knew the moment your eyes met his, you’d notice something in his stare, something raw, something dangerous. So he looked away first. Just for a second. Just long enough to breathe.

A thrill ran through you when your eyes met his, sharp and electric. He was still lounging in that infuriatingly effortless way, all cocky smirks and feigned disinterest, but you knew better. You saw it—the clench in his jaw, the way his fingers had gone stiff around that damn silver ring. The way his gaze flickered, just barely, before snapping back to you like he hadn’t meant to look away at all.

The other boys had now taken notice of your presence as well. Charming compliments rolling off his lips like the finest vinegar, Blaise made his way towards Pansy, who smirked him off and locked her arm with yours, telling him something about just having perfected her look and getting you out of here before someone choked on their own spit. But your eyes were still locked on Mattheo, as if there was a magnetic pull attracting them that rendered you unable to avert your gaze.

Only Pansy’s gentle nudges and tugging moved your feet towards the entrance wall, as if on autopilot, and only her whispered voice as she leaned in could cut through the rushing in your ears. “Alright, what’s the plan for tonight when Mattheo inevitably corners you at the ball?”

Anxious for none of the boys to overhear you, you leaned in closer, muttering, “... Ignore him?”

Pansy scoffed at your suggestion, rolling her eyes with a little smirk. Gently, she nudged your side and lifted her brows at you. “Adorable. Wrong, but adorable.”

You sighed, reaching the entrance to the common room and turning to her for a brief goodbye. You had to physically restrain yourself from looking back at Mattheo, who’s gaze you could feel burning into your skin, a silent dare to look back, walk back, to him. But you wouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter,” you tried to convince yourself more than you tried to convince Pansy. “I’m with Harry tonight. End of story.”

But Pansy seemed unimpressed by your stubborn conviction. A promising smirk graced her lips as she tilted her head towards Mattheo subtly. “Oh, honey. This story is just getting started.”

a/n: stay tuned for part b 🫶 | if anyone would like to get tagged for part b who isn't already in the general or mattheo tag list, leave a comment!

taglist: @lady-peiskos @hazeldunst @juliet-017 @furioussharkcat @onlytenkos @jannie-belaerys @blueflowerpots @whosyourgnomie @revesephemeres @longpondlibrary @aespaslut @s00ty-feet @cosplayboi18 @messageforthesmallestman @iamheretoread1234 @devilsadvcte @jolly4holly @deeplyinlovewithfluffbullshit

[gottencents]

Dibs - Jennie Kim

pairing. meangirl!jennie x loser!reader

synopsis. jennie kim the school dubs as the it girl & of course a mean girl has called dibs on the schools biggest loser not to bully but to love ?

Jennie Kim had always been the center of attention. She was the undisputed queen of the school—head cheerleader, top of every best-dressed list, and the girl every student wanted to be or be with. She walked through the halls like she owned them, because, well… she did.

But nothing turned heads more than her obsession with Y/N L/N.

Y/N was the school’s biggest loser. At least, that’s what people called them. They weren’t part of any social circle, didn’t care about fashion, and had a permanent residence in the library. While Jennie was basking in the spotlight, Y/N was content sitting in the shadows. They weren’t bullied, per se—more like ignored.

Except by Jennie.

Jennie, who stared at them from across the cafeteria.

Jennie, who shut down anyone who had a single bad thing to say about them.

Jennie, who had once made an entire group of guys apologize after laughing at Y/N’s thrift-store hoodie.

Jennie, who was absolutely head over heels in love with the school’s most oblivious outcast.

And today, she was going to do something about it.

The cafeteria was buzzing with its usual energy—students chatting, music playing from someone’s speaker, and Jennie sitting at her usual table with her usual crowd. Lisa was talking about some new dance move, Jisoo was scrolling through her phone, and Rosé was engaged in a deep conversation about the ethics of pineapple on pizza.

Jennie, however, was not listening.

Her eyes were locked onto Y/N, who sat alone at the corner of the cafeteria, lazily eating their sandwich while reading a book.

Lisa followed Jennie’s gaze and sighed. “You’re doing it again.”

Jennie didn’t look away. “Doing what?”

“The whole ‘I’m-in-love-but-refuse-to-admit-it’ thing.”

Jisoo smirked, finally looking up from her phone. “I still don’t get it. You could have literally anyone. Why Y/N?”

Jennie tore her gaze away just long enough to glare at them. “Because I called dibs.”

Lisa snorted. “Dibs? That’s not how people work.”

Jennie crossed her arms. “I don’t care. Y/N is mine.”

Rosé raised an eyebrow. “Does Y/N know that?”

Jennie opened her mouth, then closed it. A beat of silence.

Lisa laughed. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

Jennie rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m making my move.”

Jisoo blinked. “Wait—now?”

“Yes, now.”

Jennie stood, smoothing down her designer skirt before making her way across the cafeteria, her every step turning heads.

Whispers followed her. People watched with wide eyes, some elbowing their friends as they noticed where she was headed.

Y/N, of course, remained completely unaware, flipping a page in their book.

That is, until Jennie plopped down across from them and stole a fry from their tray.

Y/N finally looked up, blinking in confusion. “…Did you just steal my fry?”

Jennie smirked, twirling the fry between her fingers before eating it. “You weren’t eating them fast enough.”

Y/N stared at her, unimpressed. “Do you need something, Jennie?”

Jennie propped her chin up on her hand, batting her lashes. “I just wanted to keep you company.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And that has nothing to do with the fact that people are staring like you just walked onto the loser’s table?”

Jennie feigned innocence. “What? I can’t sit with my favorite person?”

Y/N gave her a look. “I’m pretty sure you’ve never spoken to me before.”

Jennie grinned. “Not my fault you avoid me.”

“I avoid everyone.”

Jennie hummed, stealing another fry. “That’s cute.”

Y/N groaned, setting their book down. “Okay, seriously—what do you want?”

Jennie leaned forward, her voice dropping into something softer, more genuine. “I want you to let me take you on a date.”

Silence.

Y/N blinked. Once. Twice. “…A date.”

Jennie nodded. “Yeah, you know. Those things where two people go out together, and one of them falls madly in love with the other.”

Y/N gave her an unimpressed stare. “So you just assume I’d be the one falling in love?”

Jennie smirked. “I already have.”

Y/N’s brain short-circuited. “…What.”

Jennie rested her chin on her palm, watching them with the kind of intensity that made it hard to breathe. “I’ve liked you for years. I was just waiting for you to notice.”

Y/N blinked again. “Jennie. You’re literally the most popular girl in school.”

Jennie shrugged. “And?”

“And I’m me.”

Jennie tilted her head. “Exactly. You’re you. And I happen to think you’re perfect.”

Y/N opened their mouth, then closed it. For the first time in their life, they had no idea what to say.

Jennie leaned forward even more, whispering just for them to hear—

“So… what do you say?”

Y/N swallowed. “…You’re not going to stop bothering me if I say no, are you?”

Jennie grinned. “Nope.”

Y/N sighed, rubbing their temple. “Fine. One date.”

Jennie beamed, standing up as if she’d just won the lottery. “Great! I’ll pick you up Friday. Don’t be late.”

Y/N watched in stunned silence as Jennie walked away, leaving the entire cafeteria whispering and staring.

Lisa, Jisoo, and Rosé looked at Jennie expectantly when she returned to her seat.

Jennie smirked. “Told you. Dibs.”

For the rest of the day, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

It wasn’t paranoia—people were actually staring at them. In the hallways, in class, even when they went to their locker, whispers followed in their wake.

Did you see Jennie sit with them at lunch?

I heard she asked them out!

Is this some kind of joke?

By the time the final bell rang, Y/N’s head was pounding. They had spent their entire high school life flying under the radar, and now, thanks to Jennie Kim, that was officially over.

They trudged toward their locker, exhausted, only to find her already waiting there, leaning casually against the wall.

Jennie smirked when she saw them. “Hey, cutie.”

Y/N groaned. “Please don’t call me that.”

Jennie tilted her head. “Would you prefer ‘my future spouse’?”

Y/N shut their locker with more force than necessary. “Do you ever stop?”

Jennie grinned. “Nope.”

Y/N sighed, rubbing their temple. “Look, Jennie, what’s your deal? I mean, really.”

Jennie raised an eyebrow. “My deal?”

“Yeah. You’re… you. And I’m me. We don’t make sense.”

Jennie’s expression softened, and for the first time since this whole ordeal started, she looked genuine.

“Why do you think that?” she asked.

Y/N hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “Because you’re popular, rich, and everyone in this school either worships you or wants to date you. And me?” They motioned to themselves. “I don’t even think half the school remembers my name.”

Jennie took a step closer, her gaze locked onto them. “I remember it.”

Y/N felt their heart stutter.

Jennie took another step. “I remember the way you always choose the seat by the window in class because you like the natural light.”

Another step.

“I remember how you only ever eat peanut butter sandwiches for lunch because you think cafeteria food is a government conspiracy.”

Y/N’s face burned. “I—”

Jennie smirked. “I remember how you always chew on the end of your pen when you’re stuck on a math problem. How you roll your eyes when you’re flustered. How your nose scrunches up when you laugh.”

She was so close now that Y/N could feel the warmth radiating off her.

Jennie tilted her head, her voice dropping into something softer. “You might not think you’re special, Y/N, but I do. And I don’t care if the rest of the school doesn’t see it.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “…You really like me?”

Jennie let out a soft laugh. “I called dibs on you. That’s basically a love confession.”

Y/N snorted despite themselves, shaking their head. “You’re impossible.”

Jennie grinned. “And yet, here you are, still talking to me.”

Y/N sighed. “I hate that you have a point.”

Jennie smirked, reaching out to adjust the collar of their hoodie, her fingers brushing against their neck for just a second.

“Get used to it, loser. You’re stuck with me now.”

And as Jennie sauntered away, leaving Y/N standing there with a racing heart and a flushed face, one thought crossed their mind:

They were so, so screwed.

Y/N stood frozen in the middle of the hallway long after Jennie walked away, their thoughts racing at a million miles per hour.

How was this their life now?

One minute, they were just a nobody, and the next, Jennie Kim—the most untouchable girl in school—was calling dibs on them like they were her personal treasure. And now? Now they had a date with her.

A date.

Y/N groaned, pressing their forehead against their locker.

“Uhh… are you okay?”

Y/N turned their head to see their classmate, Mark, giving them a concerned look.

“No,” Y/N deadpanned.

Mark blinked. “What happened?”

Y/N exhaled dramatically. “Jennie Kim.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Oh, yeah. That.”

Y/N lifted their head, narrowing their eyes. “Wait—you knew she liked me?”

Mark gave them an incredulous look. “Dude, everyone knew.”

Y/N gawked. “How? I didn’t even know!”

Mark shrugged. “It was kinda obvious. The staring, the shutting down anyone who talked bad about you, the fact that she nearly started a fight with Minho when he tried asking you out last year—”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh.” Mark scratched the back of his neck. “You didn’t know about that?”

“No, I did not know about that!”

Mark winced. “Yeah, uh… Minho made some joke about you being a ‘charity case’ for the school and how Jennie should date ‘someone on her level,’ and she kinda—”

“What?”

“—threw her iced coffee at him.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “She what?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah. Then she told him, and I quote, ‘If Y/N isn’t on my level, then maybe I should try lowering myself to yours and see if that makes me want to throw up less.’”

Y/N stared.

Mark shrugged. “Anyway, Minho transferred schools after that, so.”

Y/N still hadn’t closed their mouth. “You’re telling me Jennie Kim has been defending my honor for years, and I just never noticed?”

Mark gave them a flat look. “You walk through life like a background character. So, yeah.”

Y/N groaned, dragging a hand down their face. “I hate this school.”

Mark patted their shoulder. “Good luck on your date.”

Y/N groaned again.

If Y/N thought the attention yesterday was bad, today was so much worse.

The moment they walked into school, the whispers started up again. People glanced at them in the hallways, whispered behind their hands, and a few brave souls even nodded in approval at them like they had just won some secret competition.

By lunch, Y/N was exhausted.

They sat at their usual table in the farthest corner of the cafeteria, hoping for some peace and quiet. But, of course, that was too much to ask.

Because Jennie Kim was heading straight toward them.

Again.

And this time, she wasn’t alone.

Lisa, Rosé, and Jisoo followed closely behind her, their faces filled with amused curiosity. The entire cafeteria watched as Jennie plopped down in the seat directly next to Y/N—so close their shoulders were pressed together.

Y/N swallowed. “Uh—”

Jennie stole a fry from their tray again. “Hi.”

Lisa smirked. “Hope you don’t mind some company.”

Y/N stared at the four of them, then at the way Jennie was completely invading their personal space, and sighed. “Do I even have a choice?”

Jennie grinned. “Nope.”

Rosé giggled, taking a seat across from them. “You’re funny.”

Jisoo rested her chin on her hand. “So. Y/N. How does it feel knowing Jennie’s been secretly in love with you this whole time?”

Y/N nearly choked. “I—”

Jennie smacked Jisoo’s arm. “Unnecessary.”

Lisa leaned forward. “Nah, but seriously. You really had no clue?”

Y/N hesitated before sighing. “Not even a little.”

Rosé gasped. “Not even when she defended you all those times?”

Y/N frowned. “I didn’t know she was defending me! No one told me!”

Lisa whistled. “Damn. You’re really out here living life on airplane mode, huh?”

Jennie rolled her eyes but was still watching Y/N closely, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of their sleeve.

Y/N sighed, shaking their head. “I still don’t get it.”

Jennie raised an eyebrow. “Get what?”

Y/N looked at her. “Why me? Of all the people in this school, why me?”

Jennie held their gaze for a moment before speaking, her voice softer than before.

“Because you don’t care about any of this.” She gestured vaguely to the cafeteria, to the stares, the whispers, the constant attention. “You’re not like the people who only like me for my status. You don’t try to impress me, or be something you’re not. You’re just… you.”

Y/N felt their heart skip a beat.

Lisa fake wiped a tear. “Damn, that was deep.”

Jennie shot her a glare.

Jisoo clapped her hands together. “Alright, so when’s the wedding?”

Y/N groaned. “Can we not?”

Jennie smirked. “Not yet. Let me at least take them on a date first.”

Y/N buried their face in their hands.

Rosé giggled. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Lisa nodded. “Agreed.”

Jennie leaned in, her lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as she whispered—

“I told you. You’re stuck with me now.”

And for some reason, despite all the chaos, Y/N found that they didn’t mind it.

Not one bit.

[neeeooon]

hi hi this is my 2nd time requesting alrdy 🥶😅😅.... lol anyway, I wanna I request for bllk boys meeting reader's parents unexpectedly. like reader's parents catch them being very undeniably couple-y. Very very awkward situation 😋☝️☝️

I rlly wanna see this specifically with Isagi, Reo, Shidou, Yuki, and Rin. Other characters would be fun too if you want🔥🔥🔥

hihi welcome back 😈 okay i think i gotchu I HOPE YOU ENJOYY

when your parents walk in on you ;

bf bllk x gn!reader. 16+ cw: suggestive!!! kms jokes in isagi’s + reo’s

isagi yoichi

-> isagi just scored the winning goal in the final nel game, and he still hadn’t come down from that high hours later

-> your fingers dragged through his hair and down his neck, scraping the back of his jersey as he shoved you against your bedroom wall. your parents were out for date night, giving you plenty of time alone with your boyfriend

-> it was supposed to give you plenty of time alone with your boyfriend

-> isagi groaned against your mouth, his fingers digging into your hips. and then you heard it. “y/n? are you alright, sweetheart?”

-> you barely had time to shove isagi off before your bedroom door was pushed open, and your mother let out a loud gasp upon seeing you, lips swollen and t-shirt rumpled. “m-mom! what are you doing home?”

-> “your father got food poisoning. hi! you must be yoichi!” your face burned as she approached your boyfriend with an outstretched hand. “mom!” “uh, y-yes ma’am.” he greeted as he shook it with two hands. “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

-> you wanted to die. after taking way too long to talk to your boyfriend, your mom finally left. “door open, kids!” you dropped your face into your hands and groaned, “i am going to kill myself.” “suicide pact?” “deal.”

mikage reo

-> you had study sessions with reo all the time. your parents knew he was intelligent, and though they’d never met him, they trusted the two of you to keep things innocent when he was over

-> and yet your homework was long forgotten as you sat comfortably in your boyfriend’s lap, back pressed against the desk as he kissed you hard

-> you didn’t hear the door open. you didn’t know your parents were home until you caught a glimpse of your mother’s stance from behind reo’s head, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she tapped a manicured finger against her forearm

-> you practically fell out of reo’s lap and landed with a thump. “mom! uh, what are you doing home so early?”

-> she isn’t impressed. “i already have a headache. i’m assuming i don’t have to stay up any later to give you both the talk, do i?”

-> aaaaand you’re ready to curl in on yourself and die. “oh my god.” “guessed not. nice to meet you, reo. make sure you’re home before tomorrow.” “you too, mrs l/n. i’ll be leaving now.”

shidou ryusei

-> “my parents are going to be home any minute…” you sighed when shidou slipped one hand beneath the waistband of your sweats, the other slowly making its way under your shirt. “lucky for you, cutie, i only need one to make you—”

-> “l/n y/n?!” you scrambled out from under your boyfriend, clutching your hands to your chest as you gaped at your parents standing in your doorway

-> “haven’t you heard of knocking?!” “this is our house. and we were coming to wish you a goodnight! who’s he?!”

-> you knew for a fact that your parents knew you had a boyfriend. however, you always described him as someone sweet who takes care of you and makes you laugh. your parents seemed caught off guard by the spiky pink hair and heavy eyeliner

-> your silence gives shidou the chance to reach a hand out for your mother to shake. “it’s a pleasure. i’m shidou ryusei.” your mother eyes his hand warily before shaking it. “hm. mrs. l/n.”

-> thankfully your father has enough trust in you to gently pull your mother from your room. he quietly greets shidou, compliments his hair, and wishes you both a goodnight

-> “i cannot believe that just happened,” you groan as you flop back onto your bed. shidou falls beside you and places a soft kiss to your neck. “oh well. your dad seems cool, at least. want me to leave?” “uh uh. you promised me a minute.” “😈”

yukimiya kenyu

-> you’re watching a movie with your boyfriend, parents visiting your uncle and aunt, when you’re suddenly bored with the film on screen

-> quietly, you slip from the couch into a kneeling position, yukimiya’s eyes following you the whole way down. “uh, y/n?” “mhm?” “what are you doing?” “nothing~” “what if your parents—“ “i checked their location. they’re still forty-five minutes away.”

-> you move directly in front of your boyfriend, hands sliding up from his shins to his knees when the door suddenly opens

-> your dad freezes when his eyes land on you and yukimiya. “dad!” you shout, jumping to your feet as your boyfriend hurridly throws a blanket over his hips. “why didn’t you knock?!”

-> he has a hand over his eyes in a tired fashion. “i bought this house. why did you decide to do that in the living room?” “… oh.” “yeah, oh.” “.. this is my boyfriend, yukimiya.” “i figured.”

-> yukimiya doesn’t trust himself to stand, so he waves as your dad from the couch. “n-nice to meet you..?” your mother finally appears, smiling brightly and cluelessly when she spots your boyfriend. “oh! you must be kenyu!” “hello, mrs l/n.” “we were just heading to bed. enjoy the rest of your movie!”

-> your parents leave, not without your father giving you “the look” before trailing after your mother. you drop onto the couch with a sigh. “your house next time?” “definitely.”

itoshi rin

-> you were innocently teaching rin how to cook. alone. while your parents were at work. they only agreed since you promised to introduce your boyfriend to them (and cook dinner)

-> it starts out that way. you and rin, side by side, mixing ingredients and making sauces. however, your fingers are now running over your boyfriend’s shoulder muscles as he carefully lifts you onto the counter, never breaking your kiss

-> you weren’t quite sure what set you off, but you suddenly needed to be as close to your boyfriend as humanly possible. he didn’t have any objections, hands trailing from your hips to your back when the soft jingle of keys breaks you apart

-> “was that—“ “no… no way, right?” wrong. the door swings open, and rin flies to the other side of the kitchen as he pretends to read the recipe book

-> “y/n!” your mother greets, heels in hand as she comes over to kiss your cheek. she pauses in front of you, wiggles her eyebrows at your flushed face, and shoots a secretive smile in rin’s direction. “aw, my little lovebirds~ i’m so happy to finally meet you, rin!”

-> rin waves awkwardly from his side of the kitchen, earning a little laugh from your mother. she sighs, “oh, to be young and in love again! i’m headed to the store. i’ll be back in twenty minutes for dinner. twenty.” she winks at you before vanishing out the front door, leaving you shocked to the core

-> “i—“ “so that really just happened?” “well, at least my mother likes you..?” you finish dinner as quickly as possible, keeping a safe distance away from each other, and groan in embarrassment when your mom jiggles her keys and kicks the door before opening it. “let’s eat!”

[sturniololuvz]

Ok, feel free to ignore this if its super weird, but I was thinking; could you maybe write about the sturniolos sister, who just got her first boyfriend and like one night all three of them + her are sitting on the couch watching a show or doing their own thing or wtv, and she just randomly says something like, "what do I do if he asks me to give him head?" and all of them turn to her and are just like "...what?" Idk if this makes sense😭

omgggg yes lmaooooo

“Wait… WHAT?!”

Sturniolos x sister

The four of them were sprawled out on the couch, half-watching a random show that none of them were really paying attention to. It was one of those rare peaceful nights—no filming, no drama, just them hanging out as siblings.

Nick was on his phone, Matt was mindlessly scrolling through Netflix, and Chris was lying across the couch with his hood up, staring at the ceiling. Y/N sat between them, casually munching on a bag of chips.

And then, out of nowhere, she spoke.

“What do I do if he asks me to give him head?”

The entire room froze.

Nick’s thumb stopped scrolling. Matt’s eyes slowly lifted from the TV. Chris’s head snapped toward her so fast it was a miracle he didn’t get whiplash.

“…WHAT?”

Y/N blinked at them, completely unfazed. “What? It’s a serious question.”

Chris sat up instantly, looking personally offended. “NO, THE HELL IT’S NOT.”

Matt’s face was blank, like his brain was buffering. “Why are you asking that? Who is asking that? WHO IS THIS ABOUT?”

Nick just rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache forming. “Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

She sighed, throwing a chip at Chris. “Relax, it’s not that deep.”

Chris dodged the chip, eyes wide. “NOT THAT DEEP? NOT THAT DEEP? YES, IT IS.”

Matt leaned forward, his hands clasped together like he was about to have the most serious discussion of his life. “Start from the beginning. Who is asking you for head?”

Y/N groaned. “No one yet, I’m just saying if it happens, what do I do?”

Chris pointed at her. “You say no. That’s what you do.”

Nick scoffed. “Or you break up with him because why is he even asking that?!”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, you guys are so dramatic.”

Chris threw his hands in the air. “We’re dramatic?! You just blindsided us with the most insane question of all time!”

Matt exhaled, running a hand down his face. “Y/N. Are you seriously thinking about doing that?”

Y/N shifted awkwardly. “I mean… I don’t know. I just—thought I should be prepared in case it comes up.”

Chris looked physically ill. “In case it comes up—EW, WHY WOULD YOU WORD IT LIKE THAT?”

Nick groaned. “Oh my God, I wanna die.”

Matt shook his head aggressively. “No. Nope. We’re not doing this. We’re not having this conversation.”

Chris crossed his arms. “Absolutely not. You’re too young for this.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m sixteen.”

Nick shot her a glare. “And you’re still too young for this conversation.”

Chris pointed at her. “You are a child. My baby sister. You are NOT putting—”

“OKAY, WE GET IT,” Y/N cut him off, throwing a pillow at him.

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, if a guy ever pressures you into doing something you’re not sure about, he’s not the right guy. Simple as that.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah, and if he ever makes you uncomfortable, you tell us.”

Chris cracked his knuckles. “And then we kill him.”

Y/N gave him a deadpan look. “You’re not killing my boyfriend, Chris.”

Chris huffed. “Well, if he asks you for head, then maybe I will.”

Matt shook his head. “Alright, enough. This is officially the worst conversation I’ve ever had.”

Nick groaned, tossing his phone onto the table. “I need to bleach my brain.”

Chris shuddered. “I need therapy.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Next time, I’ll just Google it.”

Chris gasped so dramatically you’d think she just threatened his life. “ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

Matt sighed. “I’m going to bed. This night is ruined.”

Nick stood up, shaking his head. “Same. I literally cannot process what just happened.”

Chris pointed at Y/N as he stood. “You—stay away from Google. And boys. And everything.”

Y/N smirked. “Can I at least—”

“NO!” All three of them shouted in unison before leaving the room.

Y/N just laughed, grabbing another chip.

Honestly? Totally worth it.

[kaisacobra]

Speak No Evil - Sam Carpenter

Part 1 of Dark Knight series

Summary: You think Tara's sister hates you, or, at least, she is embarrassingly aware of your little crush on her. You couldn't be further from the truth, but Sam wouldn't let you know the length she'd go to protect you.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Stalker!Sam, violence, blood, character death (not main) mentions of sex, cursing, mostly following canon.

w.c: 5.6 k

“Ugh, I just want to get home and throw myself on the couch.”

“Real.”

You and Tara climbed the stairs to her apartment side by side, dragging your feet more than anything else due to the exhaustion of the grueling day in college. You almost sighed with relief when you arrived in front of the familiar door, seeing your best friend take the key out of her pocket and open the lock with her shoulder already against the wall.

She entered the house already throwing her own bag aside, without even noticing the object sliding across the wooden floor. Being a visitor, you couldn't afford the same carelessness, opting to leave your bag on one of the small sofas. Your shoulders thanked you when they were spared the weight of the textbooks after long minutes on the subway and walking.

“You're home early, Sam.”

Automatically, your heart started racing when you heard Tara's simple words and you turned around at lightning speed to see Samantha Carpenter emerging from the kitchen, wearing nothing more than a gray tank top and black pants, comfortable to wear at home but dangerous for your eyes.

“They robbed that electronics store next to the bar.” She shrugged at her own explanation, but you were more focused on the way her biceps seemed to bulge when she crossed her arms. “The boss chose to close it for safety reasons, plus no one would want to drink with a police car parked right outside the door.”

“H-Hi, Sam!” You raised your hand to greet her, but your brain froze as you decided between a gesture, and you ended up with a strange three-fingered salute.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you instantly regretted your action, especially after Sam barely reacted to your presence, with nothing more than a nod to indicate that she had heard you. She had barely finished greeting you when she turned to Tara again. “Since I'm here, I can cook something for dinner instead of getting takeout.”

“Great!” Tara agreed beside you. “Just don't do too much. Y/n and I are going to make popcorn and watch a movie right now, I won't be that hungry later.”

“And I'm not staying for dinner!” You hastened to say, not wanting to give Sam any more trouble, especially when she seemed to stare into the depths of your soul with those piercing dark eyes. “I-I still have a lot to study, I have to get back early.”

Still remaining a woman of few words, Sam merely nodded and began to retreat to the kitchen again, before stopping to point at Tara. “Just don't make it too loud. Last time I had to listen to a lot of complaints from the lady upstairs.”

“You got it.” Tara replied with a joking salute and the older sister just rolled her eyes before finally leaving the two of you alone. It wasn't long before you became the butt of Tara's jokes, as she mimicked your voice in an annoyingly high-pitched tone. “H-Hi, S-S-Sam...”

“Fuck you.” You punched the girl weakly in the shoulder as you walked over to the couch, throwing yourself against the cushions with your arms crossed. Tara paid no attention to the micro-aggression, laughing even louder as she sat down next to you, crossing her legs on the furniture.

A sigh escaped your throat as Tara turned on the television and flipped through the catalog of some streaming network, probably looking for another horror movie. “I think your sister hates me.”

“Nah, that's just how she is.” The shorter girl threw a gesture of indifference. “But she surely knows about this big ass crush you have on her.”

You felt your face catch fire again at the accusation. “I don’t- .”

“Yes, you do. It's obvious and it's disgusting.”

“Yeah?” You decided to join in Tara's teasing game, knowing that this was just one of your usual friendly banter. “Like the crush you have on that blonde from the basketball team?”

“Look, i’ll have you know that-”

You interrupt Tara with a shush escaping from between your lips, parted in a smile. Your phone had just beeped with a notification and you quickly pulled it out of your pocket to see Mindy's text on your lock screen.

Unfortunately, the content of the message instantly broke the fun mood. “Shit.” You cursed through your teeth, feeling the corners of your lips drop.

You could feel Tara stirring on the sofa, dragging herself to your side as she tried to read what was on your screen. “What?”

A sigh. “Mindy's asking me about what happened at ARCS.”

“Oh.”

Analysis and Reflection on Contemporary Society, also called ARCS, was an elective that you and Tara were taking and it basically consisted of having a debate on a topic proposed by the teacher every class. You had joined because the proposal was interesting, but most of the students were only there because Professor Ross graded you through attendance and not through exams.

Which was a good indicator of the type of person who was attending those classes.

The moment of silence was broken by your best friend's hesitant voice. “Do you... want to talk about what happened?” 

Tara, bless her heart, wasn't the best person to offer emotional support and you knew that very well, both because of the long year you'd been friends for and because of the complete awkwardness she found herself in. Even so, you knew she wouldn't rest until you took some of the weight off your back.

“I don't want to pay too much attention to this.” You huffed, shoving your phone back into your pocket as if it were the reason for your anger. “E.J. Abrams called me a bitch to the whole class, who cares? Everyone knows I was getting his ass in that debate.”

Seeing that you were more annoyed than hurt, Tara jumped at the chance to curse the boy, feeling much more comfortable now that the topic seemed to be centered on hatred. “That little shit. He thinks he can do whatever he wants because he's blond and strong and some dumb girls suck his toes.”

“I think it's more the fact that he's a medal-winning swimmer on the Olympic team and he's in one of the most exclusive fraternities on campus.”

“Well, fuck that ridiculous fraternity and fuck his medals too.” Tara continued, seeming to enjoy the way the F-word came out of her mouth. “I can't believe Professor Ross didn't even give him a warning.”

“I can.” You retorted without much joy, knowing damn well that the man would never intervene in any discussion between students because it was all part of the “debate experience”. Which, in fact, seemed more like an excuse so that he wouldn't have to get directly involved in any conflict.

With the movie completely forgotten in the background, you and Tara continued to curse every last generation of E.J., transferring all your indignation into words that the boy would probably never hear.

Meanwhile, someone else was listening to the entire conversation through the thin walls of the apartment, making a mental note to do more research on E.J. Abrams another time.

__

Sam was glad she had decided to wear a stronger jacket. New York nights were gradually getting colder as winter approached.

If she turned around, she would probably see students rushing around as they crossed campus, trying to get to their dorms before the curfew. Without even looking at her watch, Sam knew that they had approximately 5 minutes before 10:30 pm. She liked to arrive at 10.

But she didn't turn around, choosing to keep her back against the bars of the fire exit one floor above yours. She still couldn't believe that she had a perfect, hidden view of your entire room through your window, but Sam would never complain about that gift.

It was a safety issue, yes, but you were never going to be in danger when she was right there, in that fire exit, every night. No other person would harm you as long as she was there.

“Are you still hiding behind false pretenses?”

Sam would recognize that dry, slurred voice anywhere. She barely had to turn her head to see her father, or the image of him, sitting right in front of her with that familiar mischievous smile. He looked as he always did, not that a hallucination could have such a vast closet. White blouse stained with blood, messy black hair and eyes that Sam sometimes recognized in the mirror.

“There's nothing false about what I'm doing.” Sam muttered in response, even though she knew she shouldn't. 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed.” Billy continued, his smile getting wider with the attention he was receiving. “I know more than anyone that everyone needs a good obsession. Obsession makes perfect, doesn't it?”

This time, Samantha chose to leave him without an answer. Obsession. That word sounded so ugly to her ears, completely wrong too. She wasn't obsessed with you, she was just... protecting you.

At first, that hadn't exactly been Sam's intention, of course. When Tara talked about a new friendship, her protective big sister instincts instantly went on alert. No one could blame her after everything they'd been through in Woodsboro and more recently in her own apartment.

But she also couldn't deprive Tara of having a normal life and interacting with other people. Not everyone was a psycho waiting for an opportunity to stick a knife in the Carpenters. Still, Sam wanted to make sure that you weren't going to be another disappointment in her sister's life.

That's how she found herself on that fire escape for the first time, making sure that you really lived in the dorms, that you hadn't lied about your identity, that you didn't have a secret agenda or sneak out at night to play God and take some lives.

But you were... normal. Sam would even say that you were more normal than she and Tara would ever be. Everything about you was genuine and you carried with you a kindness that made Sam stop thinking of you as a suspect to someone she put on her mental protection list.

And it was by studying your normality, immersing herself in your pure and well-intentioned actions that Sam realized she was no longer watching you because she lacked trust in your person, but rather because she wanted that for herself. Those moments watching you from afar, seeing you live your life, brought an inner peace to Sam that she couldn't even explain.

It had been months since she had started this routine, so Sam knew very well that in a few minutes your roommate would open the window to use her pink-flavored vape, since you hated the smell being trapped in the room. The open window would allow Sam to eavesdrop on 20 minutes of conversation between you and your friend, which Sam thought was perfect for finding out at least a little about what was going on in your life.

Just as planned, the blonde opened the window and leaned both elbows on the sill, letting the flavored smoke escape through her lips as she took another drag of the pink device. Sam didn't like your roommate, Sammy - yes, she had also found the coincidence of names a bit ironic -  because she thought the girl was... too clingy with you.

But as far as Sam knew, it wasn't a crime to be a clingy friend. It was just annoying. Annoying wasn't enough reason for Sam to do anything about it.

“... Well, frat guys are shit.” Sammy spoke over another puff of smoke, probably finishing answering something. “They must have a total of two neurons combined.”

“I knoooww...” You whined, rubbing a hand across your face in frustration. Sam could see you lying on your bed with your phone in your hand, certain that you must’ve been scrolling on your social media, as you always did at that time. “But the people in class laughed at me at the time and, I don't know, I don't want to be made a laughing stock.”

Sam felt an angry pulse in her neck. It was outrageous that you were afraid of being ridiculed in your class because some idiot thought it was funny to interrupt your debate to call you a bitch. She could almost picture the scene if she closed her eyes, and just the thought of seeing your lost and embarrassed expression made her blood boil.

“Did they put any videos online? If you want, I can delete it.”

The proposal was genuine. While Sam was still doing her own research on your life (for safety's sake, of course), she had found your roommate's data as well. Sammy was a computer science major and, from the internship she had landed with a great salary, she must have been very good at what she did.

“I'll take a look.” You answered in a low voice, your eyes frantically running over the phone screen, looking for something that Sam would never be able to see from that distance.

Billy chose that moment to come back to torment his daughter, his evil smile almost shining in the moonlight. “It's so good that there are so many people who care about our girl, isn't it?”

“Shut up.” Sam grunted through her teeth. He could even be a figment of her mind, but Sam was never going to let Billy ever refer to you as his possession.

In response, he just laughed, his dead head falling back as he amused himself at the girl's growing annoyance. If Billy had a material body, Sam would already have provided a fresh wave of red on his stained shirt.

“FUCK!”

Sam turned her head towards the window like a bolt of lightning as soon as she heard your cry of outrage. Sammy had also done the same, removing the vape from her lips as she turned around with wide eyes. “What?! What?!”

“Look at this shit!” You squawked, waving your phone in the blonde's direction. From a distance, the most Sam could see was the layout of the app. It looked like twitter, but she couldn't be sure.

Not that that was going to be a problem. Carpenter quickly took her phone out of her pocket, opening it to the app that used to have a bird as its icon. Fortunately, the account she wanted to use was already open and she had no trouble finding what she was looking for.

Yes, Sam had also created one or two fake social media accounts when she was investigating you, just to be safe. She had gotten the data from a Gordon Wu, who was majoring in engineering at your university and had apparently never created an account for himself. Sam thought he wouldn't mind if she borrowed it.

It was easy to create a profile with no photos and start following other students at the university to keep up to date with everything that was going on, as well as other random accounts such as soccer memes and Pokémon just to keep her little disguise authentic. Fortunately, the app's algorithm seemed to understand that what Sam really wanted to know was what was going on at Blackmore.

So it wasn't long before she saw E.J Abrams' verified account on her timeline, with a tweet that had over 2k likes:

@themanEJ: That bitch in ARCS just got mad cause she wants this d again

Sam's eye twitched.

“I can't believe he posted that!” You complained even louder, a mixture of anger and dread in your voice. “I've never slept with him! Never! And I never want to!”

The comments were horrible. Men encouraging E.J., calling you crazy and giving reason to his lies, women saying they wouldn't miss the same opportunity or adding fuel to the gossip, asking for the name of the mysterious bitch.

“I'll see if I can delete it, okay?” Sammy patted your shoulder before going to her own side of the room, opening her computer while trying to somehow take down that tweet. Meanwhile, Sam's hands clenched into a fist in the pockets of her jacket.

“You know what to do, Sam.” That familiar voice whispered in her ear, like a snake tempting her to bite the apple. “Are you really going to let that fucker hurt our girl?”

“She's not your girl.”

“But she's yours, isn't she?” Billy retorted without wasting any time, his dark eyes sparkling at the mere idea of having fun in his favorite way. “Don't you remember how good it felt to finish off Bailey? How amazing you felt sticking that knife, my knife, in his eye after he played with your family?”

Sam remembered the excitement, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she took revenge for everything he and his family had done, the smile that automatically opened on her face after he had stopped moving. She remembered how satisfying it had been to slit Richie's throat as if he were a fish, watching him beg for air as the blood dripped to the floor.

E.J... he hadn't killed anyone, but... he deserved it, didn't he? He shouldn't have messed with you. Someone had to teach him a lesson.

“You know you want this, Sam. Don't fight your instincts.”

She felt the weight of Billy's knife in her pocket, serving as a nudge, as if it were another way for the universe to tell her that she was right, that she should do it. 

For the first time in months, Sam looked behind her at the fire escape, now no longer focused on your window, but on the entrance to the house of a famous fraternity that wasn't that far from your dorm.

__

It was incredibly easy to get into the house. Really. The front door was open.

Sam didn't even have to make an effort to get to the boy's room, as her footsteps were completely drowned out by the loud trap music that was blasting from the speakers. She caught a glimpse of four guys playing ping-pong in the kitchen and another two playing video games in the living room.

None noticed her presence and she didn't make a point of being seen either, especially while she was dodging protein bar wrappers and plastic cups that were lying on the floor. She climbed the stairs two steps at a time, wanting to do what she needed to do right away to get out of that nightmare of a place.

She took her phone out of her pocket as soon as she reached the top floor, looking at one of the photos E.J. had posted on his Instagram that showed a bit of his bedroom from the back. The walls were dark blue with some of his medals hanging on them, along with photos of him receiving them. Sam hoped that the boys' rooms weren't all the same.

Fortunately, the first door she walked through was exactly where she needed to be. E.J.'s room wasn't much better than she had imagined. Pants and boxers (which she hoped were clean) were scattered all over the floor and the room smelled of an uncomfortable mixture of aftershave and an extremely woody perfume, to the point of making Sam's nose sting in response.

And there it was, the blue wall full of medals and photos of the boy, like a mural entirely dedicated to his narcissism. Sam was tempted to destroy some of those pictures, punch them right in the middle of that static smile of the boy-next-door that she knew very well was completely fake. There was nothing good about E.J. The world would be a better place without him.

Sam sat on the completely messed up bed, with one sheet turned over and two pillows completely crumpled. E.J. seemed to be the kind of guy who had someone to do the cleaning for him at home, of course he wouldn't be able to do something as simple as making his own bed. He probably thought it wasn't his job.

Speaking of the devil, it didn't take long for E.J. to walk into his own room and be surprised by the sight of the brunette in his bed. He was tall and strong, as an athlete should be, of course. Some people would say he almost looked like Captain America, if you completely ignored the part about having moral values.

Not that that would intimidate Sam. If anything, it would only make the result all the more satisfying.

“Heeey, babe.” Abrams cracked a mischievous smile, analyzing Sam as if she were a piece of meat. “I don't remember having anything scheduled today. Did the guys fix you up for me?”

She had to press her black gloved hands against her thighs to stop herself from immediately jumping on the boy's neck. Act, Sam. Billy's voice and her own were mixing in her head, trying to keep her in line. Sam cracked the best smile she could manage. 

“I just had to have a chance with the hottest guy in Blackmore.” She winked, trying to swallow the disgust she felt at those words. Sam got out of bed slowly, her movements being followed by E.J. like a hungry predator. “Better lock the door, huh? We don't want any interruptions.”

“You're right, beautiful.” The boy quickly agreed, turning the lock behind him at the same time as Sam reached him, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt. “You've got attitude, kitten. I like that.”

“I bet.” Sam smiled again, knocking him onto the bed just as he made a move to try and grab her waist. She tugged at the hem of his shirt, trying her best to maintain a seductive voice. “Why don't you take it off for me, E.J.?”

“Right away.” He nodded, making a show of opening the only three buttons on his polo shirt before pulling the green fabric off over his head, as if Sam was interested in seeing that pile of muscles that would soon spasm until they stiffened.

Sam took a single step closer to the bed, watching the boy crawl through the messy covers until he rested his back on the headboard, spreading his legs as if to invite Sam in. She just tilted her head to the side, her arms crossed. “E.J�� What does it stand for?”

“W-What?” The athlete muttered, his eyes widening for a brief moment before he tried to pull himself together in his fake suave persona. “You don't need to know that, kitten. Come here and I'll give you something else to think about.”

“Can I guess, then?” Sam continued, finally climbing onto the bed, her knees sinking into the soft mattress right next to Abrams' thick thighs, pinning him in place. He only nodded, biting his lip as he appreciated the sight above him. “I'd say it's... Edward Jacob Abrams. But you tell everyone you're Edward James, so you don't have to admit that your mother named you after the two hot guys from Twilight. You don't think that's a very manly name, do you?”

E.J.'s expression went from surprise, to panic, to pure hatred. His set jaw quickly clenched and he made a point of getting up to confront Sam. “Listen here, you bitch - OOF.”

Whatever he was going to complain about was interrupted by a swift punch right in his Adam's apple, causing the boy's hands to go up to his throat as he searched for air. His white face quickly turned red and a few tears escaped from his eyes as he struggled to breathe.

Sam smiled at the scene. “You're really like calling women by that word, huh? It's about time someone shut your filthy mouth.”

With a lot of effort and his eyes twitching, E.J. managed to spit out a few words. “Y-You're c-crazy!” He coughed, the veins in his throat widening with the effort, his skin almost turning a purplish hue.

“Maybe.” Carpenter murmured, calmly taking the knife out of her pocket, admiring how the metal of the blade glistened against the moon rays coming through the window. “But you need to learn a thing or two about swallowing your words.”

In one swift movement, Sam used the handle of the knife to strike E.J.'s fingers with a resounding crack, making him grunt in pain and pull his hands away from the front of his neck, which had been Samantha's target all along. He raised his hands, trying to reach the woman to strangle her, but Sam had been faster.

With a single blow, now with the blade, E.J.'s throat had been slit open, spurting wine-red blood from his neck down his bare torso like a waterfall. He opened his eyes wide, his vocal cords gurgling in an attempt to speak, or to call for help, but nothing came out.

He struggled with one last effort to escape, but Sam also had strength in her lower limbs and trapped E.J.'s thighs between her own, forcing him to stay in place while he lost more and more blood and oxygen.

In a way, it was as if Sam was stealing his soul. Her eyes glowed maniacally as the brightness of the boy's eyes dimmed, his muscles growing weaker and his limbs abandoned him, giving up any chance of salvation.

Sam leaned forward, not minding the way her gloves got stained with the blood that now covered the entire bed. She moved closer to E.J.'s ear and whispered, “Who's the bitch now?”

Taking advantage of the boy's almost deoxygenated state, Sam opened his mouth without resistance, aligning her knife with E.J.'s tongue. Through the reflex of the blade, she swore she’d seen Billy’s eyes staring back at hers.

The sharp object descended on the tip of the athlete’s tongue, cutting the muscle with fluidity and letting the small piece fall back into EJ’s trachea, making it even more difficult for the boy to breathe, who at that point was a few seconds from fainting. His mouth was filled with blood, escaping from his lips and mixing with the red that drenched his neck.

E.J was finally unresponsive, breathing non-existent as well as his pulse. The boy’s blue eyes were completely lifeless, staring at Sam in an empty expression. She thought she’d feel a little bad. He was young and had not done much more than stupid mistakes of a 20-something asshole.

But she didn’t feel bad. Because that stupid mistake had been made against you, so he deserved it.

"You didn’t have to do this thing in the end, you know?" Billy commented in a faux bored voice, walking through EJ’s room with his hands behind his back, admiring the walls. "You’re more of a dramatic killer than I am."

"Shut up." Sam muttered back, feeling the tiredness begin to take over. She looked at the digital clock by E.J’s bed, which marked 00:04. Maybe she could be in bed by 1 am, which would give her six hours of sleep before she needed to get up for work. It was more than Sam usually slept, but she had the feeling her sleep would be hard as a stone that night.

Sam stood up from bed carefully, murmuring swears as she saw that the blood had stained her gloves and pants. She had expected to throw the gloves off but, man, she liked these pants.

"Who would’ve guessed that the impulse you needed to become like me was to mess with your heart and not your head."

"I’m not like you." Sam denied, turning to the image of her father in the corner of the room, his damn smirk seemed bigger than ever. She did not try to deny the rest of the sentence, however, because she knew it was true.

Her heart was her greatest weakness. And you seemed to be taking up a lot of space in it.

Billy laughed, approaching his daughter with slow, calculated steps. "You can deny as much as you like, Samantha. You have my blood in your veins and other’s blood on your hands. You cannot escape your family line."

"But, of course, you only did what you did because you needed to defend the honor of the poor and helpless Y/n." he continued, mockery escaping from his non-living lips, feeding on the growing anger in Sam’s chest. "Her knight in shining armour. No, scratch that. There’s nothing shining about you, Sam. You’re her Dark Knight"

She looked into the eyes of her father, seeing her clenched jaw being reflected in the pupil surrounded by an onyx iris. As much as she hated the way he talked about you, Sam couldn’t say that she hated the idea of being your knight, however twisted it was.

"I’ll up the dose of my medication."

"Ha! It’s gonna take more than a few pills to get rid of me, Samantha." Billy shook his head, a humorous smile still on his face. He bypassed his daughter, analyzing the crime scene as an art expert analyzes a painting. "Now let’s clean that up, shall we? No Loomis leaves behind evidence."

__

"If anyone asks me about E.J today, I’ll kill myself."

"Woah! Okay, how about we avoid suicide here?" Mindy replied from your side, gently pushing her shoulder with yours as you walked around the campus. 

"Yeah, if someone has to die here, it’s got to be the people who come and try to fuck with you." Tara added, walking on your other side with the headphones hanging from her neck. "I’ll do it!"

"How about we don’t kill anyone?" Chad joined the conversation, a little further behind you while still struggling to put on his football jacket. Anika, next to Mindy, rolled his eyes with the boy’s words.

"Stop being boring, dude."

The familiarity of the conversation with your friends relieved some of your anxiety, but not completely. E.J’s tweet had gotten more than 3k likes throughout the night and most of them came from people from your college. As stupid as he was, people liked to be siding with a pretty face.

As you approached the communal area of students, more you felt a weight falling on your shoulders. It was almost as if your body was anticipating the looks, whispers and fingers pointed in your direction, as if you were a circus attraction - "The girl rejected by E.J Abrams"

But that never came, not even when you approached the tables occupied by several students. They all seemed more concerned to look at their own phones, apparently immersed in some gossip by the increasing volume of whispers in unison.

"What happened?" You turned to your friends with furrowed eyebrows, watching Mindy mumble a brief I don’t know while pulling the phone out of her pocket. Around you, people seemed scared, as if something terrible had happened. 

You unconsciously thought it might be something else related to the ghostface attacks and the hell your friends had experienced in the past. You had heard the stories, had sympathized with the trauma experienced by them, although you secretly wished that the same fate would never fall on you.

Maybe that was the universe signaling you had no escape.

"Oh My God!" Mindy exclaimed as she opened her phone. Anika, beside her, took a hand to her mouth in complete horror and shock. You, Chad and Tara rushed to surround her, trying to read the news that had left the entire student body in a state of dread.

Athlete and fraternity member is found dead this morning. Suspicion of foul play falls on his roommates.

Gasps were slipping out of your throat as you kept reading the news. E.J Abrams was dead. His throat and tongue had been cut and the boy had bled to death in his own bed. The police had found some traces of hair from the other residents of the fraternity on his nails and they were the main suspects, with the current theory that it had been a prank that ended very badly.

You had a ringing in your ear. You’d woken up this morning wishing EJ would die, but now that he was really dead you felt... What? Relief? Revenge? Disgust? Fear?

A silence fell on your friends, but you could understand the thought that was being shared even without words. None of you felt bad for EJ, but the idea of your cursing suddenly being materialized seemed eerily real.

"Well, I hope they don’t cancel classes." Tara shrugged, being the first to give up pretending to care about the situation. "I didn’t walk all this way for nothing."

She pulled you by the arm, taking you out of your inner thoughts for a moment as you went towards the ARCS room, both knowing that one of the chairs would be empty but with the sketch of a body that was once there.

E.J was dead, but instead of relief, you felt in your guts that something was wrong.

[jungkookfmv20]

Chapter 5: What?

Summary

As a hardworking trainee, you’ve spent years pushing yourself to debut. When the final evaluation comes, you’re chosen as the sole candidate—but what you don’t realize is that your fate was already sealed. BTS, the seven men you idolized, manipulated everything to make sure you were theirs.

At first, their attention feels like a blessing to aid you as a trainee. Then, it becomes suffocating. Their possessiveness turns them against each other, each one willing to destroy the others just to have you alone.

⚠️ Content Warnings: ⚠️

Intense competition & high pressure, verbal & emotional manipulation, psychological stress & anxiety, favoritism & corruption, Strong language, smut, y/n is 18+, drugging

The lights of their home lit brightly as Namjoon approached the entrance with y/n in his arms. A smirk tugged at his lips as he glanced down at you, your limp form still wrapped in his hoodie. His fingers curled tighter around you as he slowly pushed open the door, moving with the quiet confidence of a man who knew he had won..

The moment he stepped into the common area, a voice cut through the darkness.

“Where have you been?”

Namjoon didn’t flinch. Instead, his smirk widened as he turned his gaze toward Yoongi, who was sitting on the couch, his sharp eyes glinting under the dim light of his phone screen. His posture was relaxed, but the sheer fury radiating off him was unmistakable.

Jimin, and Taehyung sat nearby nursing glasses of whiskey, their gazes flickering between Namjoon and the unconscious figure in his arms. Jimin’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, while Taehyung’s eyes gleamed with something close to amusement, eyeing the little lamb in his arms. Although, their gaze seemed amused, deep down, the feeling of envy and annoyance filled their mind. 

“She fell asleep in my studio,” Namjoon said smoothly, adjusting his grip on your form just enough to make his dominance clear. “I figured I’d bring her back before she woke up, she worked hard today.”

Namjoon knew no one would believe that, but truly, he didn’t care if they did or not. You were his now.

Yoongi stood up slowly, his movements deliberate and feline eyes set on Namjoon. “You expect me to believe that?” His voice was cold, lethal. “When she’s like that?”

Their gazes grazed over your form. You were limp in the grasp of Namjoon, head lolled onto his chest with your mouth slightly parted. Your legs were bare, your smooth skin on display. Namjoon's hoodie was just below the curve of your body, exposing you to the hungry eyes of the men. Your hands were careful place in your lap, a peaceful expression taking form on your face.

Namjoon let out a low chuckle, tilting his head. “Come on, Yoongi. Don’t act so self-righteous.” His fingers traced the hem of his hoodie draped over your body. “You think she didn’t want this?”

Jimin hummed in amusement. “You should’ve let us join,” he murmured, his voice dripping with playful malice. “Would’ve been more fun that way.”

Even through the harsh assumption, Namjoon’s smirk didn’t falter. “Oh, trust me,” he mused, “we had more than enough fun on our own.”

Yoongi’s jaw clenched, his patience snapping. In a flash, he was in Namjoon’s face, his hands gripping the collar of his shirt, carefully avoiding your resting form. “You fucking think this is a game, hm?” he growled. “You think you can just take what you want and walk away like nothing happened?”

Namjoon merely chuckled, entirely unbothered knowing the power he held. “ Well yes, I certainly didn’t hear her complaining,” he murmured. “Not that she could.”

Yoongi’s grip tightened dangerously, his teeth clenched. “If you ever touch her like that again,” he seethed, his voice dripping with venom, “I will make sure you fucking regret it.”

The room fell into a thick, tense silence. Jimin and Taehyung exchanged glances, something almost entertained passing between them.

Namjoon exhaled a quiet laugh, finally pulling away from Yoongi’s grasp. He adjusted his hold on you once more, his smirk unwavering. “You’re all acting like I did something wrong,” he mused, his voice light, almost teasing. “But deep down… I think you’re just mad you weren’t her first.”

Jimin let out a strained chuckle. “Relax, hyung,” he drawled, eyes glinting. “It’s not like she can say anything about it now.” 

Namjoon felt nothing but triumph as he carried you past them, reveling in the weight of you in his arms. He knew this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

Yoongi's pointed gaze never left Namjoon's form once as he disappeared down the hall with y/n, mind running a thousand miles a minute.

Oh Kim Namjoon, you don't know how badly you've just fucked up.

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

You stretched your arms and let out a small mewl of annoyance at the dull ache in the back of your head. You recognized the faint smell of incense lingering in your room, and attempted to continue your sleeping aspirations. 

Until you realized you were supposed to be in Namjoon’’s studio. 

Oh no. You had fallen asleep in Namjoon’s studio.

You smothered your head in your pillow groaning out of discontent. Wait. What are you wearing?  You look at your frame in your body length mirror when you stand up and are shocked when you see a large black hoodie covering your body. Grasping the collar of the hoodie, the strong scent of incense invades your nose. 

Namjoon’s, this was Namjoon’s.

You blush out of embarrassment. How had he gotten you in his hoodie? Why? How did you get home? Did he carry you?

The thought of Namjoon carrying you out of his studio bridal style had your head spinning.

Your thoughts were still swimming in the mortifying realization that Namjoon had not only seen you asleep but had also gone so far as to dress you in his hoodie. Did he find you drooling? Were you snoring? The questions tormented you as you paced your room, hugging the soft fabric closer to your frame.

A sudden vibration from your phone snapped you out of your spiral. You grabbed it off the nightstand and saw a message from Jimin.

Jimin: Where are you? You’re late for vocal lessons.

Oh no. You weren’t just late. You were incredibly late.

You practically tripped over yourself as you scrambled to get dressed, tossing Namjoon’s hoodie onto your bed (but not before inhaling the comforting scent one last time). You rushed out the door and toward the practice rooms, the echoes of your footsteps bouncing off the empty hallways.

When you finally pushed open the door to the studio, you were greeted by the sight of Taehyung leaning against the piano, his deep voice humming through a melody, while Jimin stood before him, arms crossed, nodding along. But the moment their eyes landed on you, something in the air shifted— a chilling annoyance exuding off of them.

“Finally,” Jimin sighed, sending you a pointed look, his tone sweet yet laced with annoyance. “You do realize we started twenty minutes ago, right?”

“I—” You huffed, trying to catch your breath. “I overslept.”

Taehyung’s lips curled into a smirk, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “Overslept, huh? Not something I pictured you would do. Anything… interesting happen last night?” His voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, but there was an edge to it that made your stomach drop.

Your face burned at the implication. How did he always seem to know something you didn’t? Taehyung had been reluctant to let you under their wing, always so skeptical looking. He would look at you with the other members with distaste, as if he was upset with you. You weren’t sure why, but it wasn’t something that bothered you too much. As long as he was going to help you, it was alright for you not to be his favourite person. 

But oh were you wrong

 “Nothing worth mentioning,” you muttered quickly, waving him off before plopping down onto a stool.

But Taehyung wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He took slow, deliberate steps toward you, stopping just close enough that you could feel the faint heat radiating off of him. “You smell different today,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but the intensity in his gaze made you shiver. “Like… someone else.”

Jimin, who had remained quiet, suddenly let out a soft chuckle, stepping forward to stand beside Taehyung. “That’s right,” he mused, tilting his head. “This hoodie… it isn’t yours, is it?”

Your breath caught in your throat. What?

Your head snaps down to clothing, of course in your rush you had picked up the wrong hoodie from your bed. How had you not noticed?

Of course they noticed how dirty you are, how embarrassing. 

“I had a late night with Namjoon working on some lyrics… that’s why I slept in. I wasn’t really able to shower this morning or dress up because I was late, I— It’s just—”

“Oh we know, our little star was so tired Namjoon came in carrying you. Apparently he didn’t want to disturb your sleep after such a long day…” Taehyung drawled.

Jimin’s fingers suddenly brushed against the fabric of Namjoon’s hoodie, his touch slow and deliberate.  “You let him put this on you?” His voice was still soft, but his grip on the fabric tightened, knuckles whitening. “That’s… unfair.”

Taehyung chuckled lowly. “It’s almost like you’re testing us,” he said, reaching out to trace a single finger along your wrist. “You wouldn’t do that… would you?”

You swallowed hard, feeling trapped beneath their gazes. This wasn’t the playful teasing you were used to—there was an undeniable edge to their words, a possessiveness that sent your pulse skyrocketing.

Jimin leaned in, his voice a honeyed whisper against your ear. “You belong here. With us. Not him. You’re a vocalist no?”

You tried to steady your breathing. “Guys, I—”

Taehyung shushed you with a finger pressed lightly against your lips, his smile widening. “Shh. Let’s not talk about him anymore. You’re here now, and we have work to do.”

Jimin’s lips curved into something unsettlingly sweet. “That’s right. We need to make sure you’re focused… on us.”

Despite their words, you weren’t sure if this was about vocal lessons anymore.

And deep down, a part of you feared this never was.

Tag List: @misbangtan

Authors Note: I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if you'd like to see anything specific or more focus on different members in the next few chapters! Also, let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list! All the love,

Ava :)

[eldizzle69]

“Biting your Tokyo debunkers boyfriend.”

masterlist

Including :: taiga, lyca, sho, Alan, haku

—Taiga Hoshibami

•so you have a death wish? /j

•if your dating he probably remembers you so he’s definitely gonna smile and tease you.

•he’ll bite you back but harder. Probably gonna draw blood.

“Gyahaha! You’re getting bold kitty cat!” Taiga laughed out and you froze in his arms. He had one arm wrapped around you as the two of you sat on the couch, and you of course couldn’t resist the urge to bite down on the fingers that hung out of the corner of your eyes.

“W-well I—“ you stammered and Taiga took your left hand into his own. You thought you’d have a cute moment, but then Taiga bit down hard on your ring finger, “Taiga! Ouch ouch!” You whined as you felt his sharp teeth dig into your skin.

“Till death do us part kitty cat,” Taiga grinned as he licked around the new wound on your ring finger.

—Lyca Colt

•bites you back

•one way wolves show affection is biting so more than likely he was already nibbling on you.

•sometimes you have to remind him to bite gently.

Soft giggles and laughter rung through the room and you and Luca laid on his bed in the Obscuary dorm. There was a mix of playful wrestling and affectionate action between the two of you.

With a sly grin on your face you leaned forward and bit down onto Lyca’s shoulder. The did even show a reaction, instead he also leaned forward and bit into your arm that was wrapped around him.

“Lyca! Gently!” You hissed as he bit down harder than you expected, making you wince. The half wolf who laid on you pouted, “you bit me first!”

“Yeah but not that hard!”

“Whatever…..”

—Shohei Haizono

•gives you a look but ultimately doesn’t say anything

•then you do it again and he teases you for it

•I feel like he thinks it’s funny, doesn’t mind

You had always admired Sho’s passion for cooking. You always offered a helping hand with his food truck and were more than happy to sit with him while he cooked up new recipes.

But today was different. You had a shitty day and wanted nothing more than to be held by your boyfriend arms, but he seemed to think that whatever he was cooking was more important.

With a huff you gently slid behind him and wrapped your arms around him. “Just a little longer— huh!?” You delivered a harsh chomp to his arm. Obviously you didn’t hurt him, it would take more than that.

“You couldn’t wait a little longer for the food—“

“I don’t care about the food Sho…”

Yes, your boyfriend could never deny you attention.

—Alan Mido

•just looks at you with surprised pikachu face

•he might warn you against doing it every now and then if he’s covered in car oil.

•it definitely doesn’t hurt him so keep biting he doesn’t mind as long as it’s you.

“Don’t.”

The instruction was simple, and firm all at the same time. You stopped mid bite, your teeth hovering over your boyfriend’s arm.

“I’m dirty,” his voice came out in a deep rumble soon after seeing your pouty face. With another guff you simply leaned against Alan, “go shower so I can bite you.”

“…..okay.” who was he to say no?

—Haku Kusanagi

•is caught off guard and shocked then he laughs and says something about not being a chew Toy

•I feel like Haku probably likes it tbh

•idk i just think that he thinks it’s cute.

Snuggling with Haku was a favorite pastime of yours. Heck it might have been your favorite pastime.

But you wanna know what was the best about cuddling with Haku? His arm wrapped around you, holding you, and tempting you.

So with very little restraint you decided to bit down on his arm, making him wince and lift his head to look at you fully.

“I’m not a chew toy,” he muttered and moved himself to lay on you further. He situated his face against your neck, limiting your mobility so you couldn’t bite him.

“You’re no fun…”

[gracie-eilish]

Peachy (pt 3)🧡✨🍑

an: THE LONGGGGGGGGG AWAITED PART THREEEEEEE

apologies for the delay y’all. i’m still maneuvering writing smut and i know y’all really like this series so i didn’t want it to be like super bad🤦‍♀️😵‍💫

warning: smut, fingering/oral r!receiving

Billie stood in the doorway to the living room, pretending to continue watching the movie, practically bouncing with energy. She was chewing on her nail while her ankle bounced in anticipation. You on the other hand, were furiously talking to your sibling in the other on the phone.

“Dude, just tell Mom to bring her phone to the fucking store and have them fix it. I have no idea why you’re calling me over such a small issue!” You huffed out, making Billie stifle a laugh.

Your head was in your hands, sitting at Billie’s kitchen table, trying not to scream into the phone as your friends all calmly continued their movie night in the room next door. Forget about the fact that this phone call was so not important like you had hoped it would be, the throbbing between your thighs only had intensified since you left the couch.

As your sibling rambled, you couldn’t help but let you mind wander to just a few minutes ago…

Billie’s soft hands splayed out on your thighs, her minty breath on your neck and her hot whispers in your ear, and her soft fingers playing with your clit so delicately-

“Hello????? Are you still there?” Shit.

“Yes hi sorry, connections glitchy. You know what I’m a little busy right now so please, just take Mom’s phone to the store and have the professionals figure it out and we’ll take it from there! Okay, Okay. Please don’t call me again tonight, I’m busy. Bye!!!” You set your phone down with a huff and sat your face in your hands.

As you started to gather yourself to rejoin the group, you started to hear the rumblings and padding around of everyone starting to head out for the night. Thank God, you thought.

You made your way back to the living room, hearing Billie say goodbye to the last of your friends before shutting the door. Her footsteps made their way back down the hall to where you stood, now shy, in the doorway.

“Hi Peach,” Billie said, finally letting out a laugh. You joined in giggling with her.

“What the fuck was that all about?” She giggled, signaling for you to sit on the couch.

“Fuckin christ. Some virus or something on my mom’s phone?? And apparently I’m a tech wiz so I was the one they called. I have zero fucking clue why,” You sighed out with a small smile, frustrated but laughing at the situation.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to.. you know,” Billie said with a smirk and you swear you saw a twinge of a blush on her cheeks.

“I still can you know.. I’ve got nowhere to be if that’s okay with you…” You flirted back, your tone now soft and sultry.

“Yeah, Peachy?” She smirked.

“Yeah baby.” Billie blushed at the nickname, you were always the soft, shy one so this was a new side to you she hadn’t seen before.

Before she could say another word you had already leaned in crashing your lips to hers, hands in her hair and her hands on your waist, pulling each other in as close as can be.

Billie grabbed your hand and lead you out of the living room up to her bedroom, the two of you giggling along the way.

As she shut the door behind her, your hands found Billie's waist, pulling her closer. You stood on your toes and pressed your lips against hers, initiating a kiss that was both tender and passionate. Your mouths moved in perfect harmony, tongues dancing and exploring, tasting each other's desire.

“Mmm Bils..” you moaned in between kisses.

“I know Peachy, I know..” she reassured.

As the kiss deepened, Billie's hands roamed over your body, mapping every curve and contour. She slid her hands under your shirt, her fingers brushing against the soft skin of your lower back. You moaned into the kiss, your body arching into Billie's touch.

She backed you up until your knees hit the mattress, softly pushing you back till you fell with a soft thud. You pushed yourself back until your head lay on her pillows, as Billie crawled up to hover over you. Her long dark hair creating a curtain around your faces, as she stared deep into your eyes, her own turning into a deep dark lust filled blue.

“You sure mama?” Billie pulled back to see your full face. Not two hours ago she was fingering you under the blanket on her couch and now she was being sweet. The thought made you giggle before responding a meek ‘yes’, barely able to make words.

With slow, deliberate movements, Billie began to pull off your shirt, revealing your pale orange colored lace bra and the swell of your breasts. Billie chuckled softly at the color choice, briefly looking up at you through her lashes, you just smirked back down at her; you knew what you were doing.

“You’re trouble aren’t ya peach,” she quipped, moving her way back up to your neck. You just giggled before letting out a blissful sigh when her lips came in contact with your neck. She kissed a path down your neck, her lips leaving a trail of fire, and pink and purple marks. Your hands tangled in her hair, guiding her, encouraging her to take what she wanted. Her skilled fingers found their way to your back, unclipping your bra and pulling it off, revealing your perfect tits to her.

“So pretty,” She whispered mainly to herself, but she knew you heard it when your face flushed a deep pink.

Your hands moved to her hips, pulling her closer, urging her to feel the intensity of your desire. Her fingers found the waistband of your shorts, deftly untying them and sliding them and your panties down your slender legs. She followed suit, taking off her own top revealing her dark colored lace bra, her perfect tits practically spilling out of it. Followed by her sweats, revealing her matching thong… and those yummy tattoos. She had you drooling and you didn’t even know it.

“You like what you see mama?” She whispered, making your eyes shoot back up to her own, nodding softly, unable to form words. She smirked taking off her bra and thong, and then knelt before you, gazing up at you with desire-filled eyes.

“I need to taste you peachy, is that okay mama?” You flushed at the nickname, nodding softly before leaning down to kiss her softly.

She pulled away and leaned back on her heels gently spreading your legs, revealing your wetness, a testament to your arousal.

“So pretty f’me Peach. You know that? Prettiest peach, all f’me,” She rambled into your thighs, pressing kisses everywhere except where you needed her.

Finally her fingers delved into your moist folds, stroking and teasing your clit. Your breath quickened as Billie's skilled fingers brought you to the brink of ecstasy. "Oh, fuck Billie," you gasped, your body trembling.

“Ah ah ah, not yet sweet girl. Want this to last,” She whispered, leaning up to press a wet kiss to your tummy.

Billie's mouth replaced her fingers, her tongue flicking and licking, driving you wild with pleasure. She sucked on your sweet bud, her fingers continuing to stroke and tease, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Billie I- fuck. Billie, please!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, you just knew you needed it.

“Please what angel? What do you want, hmm? Tell me.” You gasped out, letting your head fall back as she whispered into your pussy.

“I’m so close, please- I want more!” You cried out. tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you got so close to your release for the second time tonight.

“Peachy wants more, Peachy gets more,” She smirked into your thighs before diving back in.

“I swear to god you even taste like a peach. How the fuck did you do that??” She questioned, chuckling a bit, gaining a breathy giggle out of you too.

You giggle was cut short when she slipped two fingers back into you and finally hit that sweet spot making you see stars.

“Holy fuck Billie!” you cried out, watching her. She never broke eye contact, watching you as her eyes darkened with every thrust. She had been waiting for this for so long… way before that party at your place…

Your body tensed, and with a cry of release, you came, your sweet juices flowing onto Billie's waiting tongue.

She savored the taste of you, your orgasm lingering on her lips. She continued to moan and lap at your sensitive folds, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. Your body trembled, your hands gripping the sheets before grabbing Billie’s hand off your hip and intertwining your fingers as you rode the waves of your climax.

As your breathing slowed, Billie gently kissed your inner thighs, leaving a trail of tender kisses up to your face, making you giggle. She sat up to flop down next to you in bed pulling you into a tight embrace, your naked bodies pressing together.

“You okay sweet girl?” Billie whispered, running a hand over your back softly.

“Yeah I’m okay,” You replied sleepily, nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck, making Billie’s heart burst.

“Hey Billie?” You mumbled.

“Yeah Peach?”

“I kinda have a crush on you,” Billie cackled at your statement, your own giggles mixing in with hers.

“What?! I do!!” You whined teasingly.

“Yeah Peachy, I know you do,” She replied laughing. “Can I tell you a secret too?”

You nodded biting your lip, holding back another sweet giggle.

“I have a crush on you too,” She replied in her little voice. You gasped dramatically, putting your hand on your chest, clutching your invisible pearls as Billie leaned over to pepper kisses all over your cheeks.

As your giggles subsided, the two of you snuggled up closer to one another. Billie grabbed the edge of the blanket and brought it up over your shoulders making sure you were warm enough.

“You sleepy, baby?” She whispered, only met with a small nod and sleepy whimper from you as you wrapped yourself around her more.

“Wait.. m’not that sleepy. Wanna help you too,” you slurred out, trying to blink enough to wake up your eyes. Billie bit back a giggle before pulling your body back down to hers. You would have your time to pleasure Billie. For now, having you in her arms was enough.

“Goodnight Peach,” She whispered into your hair, pressing a kiss to your head. You had already drifted off, your body relaxing fully into hers, limp in her arms.

As Billie drifted off and the smell of your peachy perfume filled her senses, she knew that this was heaven.

🧡✨🍑💋

[ghuleh-witch]

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explicit Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, Pregnancy, Prime Mover au, oral sex, ritual sex Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x Female!Reader Additional Tags: friends to lovers, use of pet names, domestic fluff, developing relationship, no beta Word Count: 4418 Chapters: 2/5 Summary: When Papa Emeritus IV needs to find a Prime Mover, you volunteer yourself. Ao3 || Masterlist

II.

You sat at the small round table in the open-concept dining and living room of Copia’s suite. You arrived a few minutes before and he ushered you in and sat you down at the table with a glass of wine while he disappeared into his tiny kitchen to finish cooking dinner. The place was lit with the warm glow of candles and a fire in the fireplace in the living room. It was cozy and romantic; you thought as you sipped your wine. Your head turned towards the kitchen doorway when you heard a series of swear words.

“Are you okay in there, Papa?” 

“Si!” He called out before stepping out of the kitchen with two plates of food in his head. “The pan was very hot.” He sat a plate down in front of you. “I hope you like it. I should have asked what your preferences were.” He disappeared back into the kitchen and came back with a basket of bread and butter. 

He made chicken parmigiana on a bed of pasta. It looked and smelled delicious. “This looks amazing,” you said as he sat down across from you at the table. “And this is one of my favorite meals.”

“So I did good?”

“Yes,” you nodded as you cut off a piece of chicken and twirled some pasta onto your fork. You ate it and moaned. “Oh my god, this is amazing.”

He had a huge grin on his face. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m not the best cook…but I can make a few dishes when I need to.”

“I can’t cook at all,” you admitted. “I mean, I can make a mean grilled cheese sandwich or some instant ramen, but other than that, I burn everything.” 

“So we will be relying on the dining hall and takeout for most of our meals; understood,” Copia chuckled. 

“You want to have meals together?” You asked, an inkling of surprise coloring your tone.

“I was hoping we could. Unless you don’t want that.”

“No, no, I do,” you said. “I just…well, I wasn’t sure how this was going to be. Like if we were just going to meet up to have sex until I got pregnant or what?”

“I want to get to know you,” Copia said, his gaze trained solely on you. It didn’t make you feel uncomfortable the way most did when you felt eyes on you. You felt seen…important. “You’re hopefully going to be the mother of my child; I think it’s imperative to have a healthy relationship.”

“So…” You started allowing time for your thoughts to form. “This is a relationship?”

“Of sorts, I suppose,” Copia responded, taking a sip of his wine. “The extent of this relationship can be whatever we want, though.”

You nodded as you pondered his words. “This could be a romantic relationship if we wanted it?”

“Sure. It could just be friends with benefits sort of deal, too. Whatever we want and wherever this takes us. No pressure.”

“No pressure he says as if we’re not on a deadline to have a kid,” you laugh. 

“Eh, except for that pressure,” he agreed. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate dinner. Once your plate was clear, he took the dirty dishes back to the kitchen. “Dessert?” He asked, sticking his head around the doorway.

“I’m stuffed. Maybe in a minute after I’ve had time to digest. It was very, very good, Papa, thank you,” you said, patting your stomach.

“Copia,” he said. “You can call me Copia, or C. Whichever.” 

“Copia,” you said softly, as though feeling how his name felt on your lips. It felt odd to call him by his first name. At first, he was Cardinal to you, then Papa when he ascended, but never just Copia. Calling him by his name implied intimacy.

Then again, you were trying to have his baby…

“Then you don’t need to call me just Sorella,” you said before giving him your preferred name.

He whispered your name as you had whispered his. Coming from him, your name sounded like music and you wanted to swoon. You thought your name was common and average, but he said it in a way that made it sound so romantic. “Why don’t you have a seat on the sofa? I’ll be right over and then we can talk, okie dokie?”

You smiled, suppressing a laugh, and nodded. He disappeared back into the kitchen before you got up and walked over to the leather sofa that sat in front of the fireplace. Despite the fire, the leather felt cool against the bare skin of your legs. Despite the weather, you decided to go stocking-less under your habit. A minute later Copia was sitting next to you, holding out another glass of wine. “Thanks,” you said softly, taking it and sipping it. “This is all…strange.”

He hummed in agreement as he sampled his glass of wine. “It is,” he said. “Can’t say I ever saw myself in this situation. I thought…” He trailed off, his face turning solemn. 

“Thought what?” You encouraged.

“I thought I was going to be different—that I would be Papa for a while and would just be able to retire, and then they could just hire a new guy outside the bloodline. But now…the bloodline must continue, I guess, and I will end up like the others.”

You remained quiet. You understood why he felt the way he did. The assassination of his brothers was before your time. But from what you heard, the Upper Clergy had them killed because they were no longer useful once Copia arrived. If the Clergy deemed Copia no longer useful, would they do the same to him once there was an heir to take his place? It was a reasonable fear. 

“It won’t be like that,” you finally said, looking from her glass to his face. “They won’t eliminate you.”

“I appreciate your confidence, cara, but evidence points to the contrary,” he sighed. He knocked back the rest of his wine and hung his head. “I’m young enough…well, younger than my brothers were. I can still get up on stage and shake my ass and sing. The Ghost fans love me.”

“They do,” you agreed. “And you still put on a hell of a show.” 

“You think so?” He asked, his head rose and the faintest hint of a smile graced his lips.

“I do,” you replied. You bit the inside of your cheek trying to find the right words. “Look…I don’t know what’s going to happen, but right now, you’re here and you’re alive. You’re about to have a kid, hopefully, and I think you should focus on that and just live in the moment. Worrying about what’s going to happen or not happen just takes you down a dark path. Believe me, I know. That was my whole life before coming here. I worried about everything and missed out on so much.”

You reached over and put a hand on his thigh and squeezed it gently. “Whatever happens, we’ll cross that bridge when it comes, okay? You don’t have to face whatever the future brings alone.”

“You…you will stay?” He asked, eyes growing with surprise. 

You nodded. “Even if this whole Prime Mover having a baby thing doesn’t work out, I’ll still be your friend and at the risk of sounding full of myself, I go to bat for my friends and would fight to the death for them.” 

His gaze landed on your hand on his thigh before looking at your face. “That’s very…I mean…No one…Grazie,” he said as he struggled to find words. His voice had grown thick and for a moment you thought you saw his eyes water, but when you blinked there was nothing but his mismatched eyes staring at you. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a long kiss to your knuckles. “Thank you.” 

You felt soft heat creep over your cheeks and nodded. “You’re welcome,” you softly replied, loving the way his lips felt on your skin. 

His eyes flick up to yours in captivation. You had been subconsciously leaning towards him and didn’t realize it until you were centimeters from his face. He didn’t back away, though. Instead, he brought a hand to the back of your head, cradling it gently, before pulling you forward and kissing you. 

You let out a surprised little gasp against his lips, making him rumble with a laugh. He took advantage of your surprise and swiped his tongue into your mouth. Your hand gripped the fabric of his button-down shirt and clutched it hard, holding him to you as you kissed. Your tongue met his, and the kiss turned into a sloppy make-out, the likes of which you haven’t experienced since you were a teenager. 

Your mind couldn’t comprehend that you were making out with Papa…Copia. You felt like you were about to spiral deliciously out of control. 

Another gasp escaped your lips as he pulled you into his lap, one arm around your waist and his free hand resting on your thigh. He moved his hand up and down your thigh, the hem of your habit shifting higher and higher. His gloved hand was warm on your skin. You let out a soft moan that made him growl.

“If you don’t want this to continue, say so,” he breathed against your lips as his fingers moved closer to your center.

You felt a flood of heat rush right between your thighs. “Continue,” you command, your fingers tugging on the threads of hair and the nape of his neck.

He smirked at you, his eyes burning into yours as he nudges your thighs open and traces his fingers over the lace fabric covering your pussy.

“Oh fuck,” you panted, fingers curling tighter in his hair.

He chuckled and continued a gentle up-and-down movement that only made you wetter. “I’ve barely touched you, cara,” he said, his lips forming into a sly smirk. “I wonder what kind of noises you will make when I do touch you?”

“Touch me and find out,” you dared.

“Cheeky,” Copia responded before capturing your lips again. As you two kissed, he pushed your panties aside and slid his fingers through your folds.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt anything so exquisite before. None of your prior lovers made you feel this good with just one touch. You couldn’t stop the moan from leaving your throat. You knew he heard it because you felt his lips curve into a smile. He made it feel like a thousand fireworks exploding throughout your body. His fingers found your clit and began to stroke over it. “Holy shit,” you moaned, your head falling against his as he worked you over. 

“I think regardless of what this relationship becomes, we’re going to have some fun,” he chuckled, his fingers finding a rhythm moving against your clit. 

“Y-yes,” you panted in agreement as he slid two fingers inside of you. Your eyes rolled back and your mouth fell open. “Oh, Satan below.” 

He chuckled and began to thrust his fingers into you, curling them just right to reach that one spot that would make you fall to pieces in his lap. “This is okay?” He asked as he pressed his lips to your neck.

“Yes,” you stammered, tugging at his hair and making him groan softly. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promised as he continued the rhythm he established. 

Your core continued to grow tighter and tighter as his fingers slid in and out of your pussy. It wasn’t long before the taut wire holding you together snapped and you were coming around his fingers. When your eyes opened again, he was looking at you with awe—like you had just brought light to a universe where he was stumbling around in the dark. 

“Così bella,” he praised as he withdrew his fingers from you. He brought them to his lips and licked and sucked them clean.

It was the hottest thing you ever saw.

You sat in his lap panting as you stared at each other. He fixed your panties and pulled the hem of your habit back into place. He patted your thigh and helped you off his lap onto your feet as he stood. “It’s getting late,” he said. “We’ll call it a night.”

“But what about you?” You asked, your eyes drifting to the very obvious bulge in his pants. 

“It’s not necessary,” he said. “I’d like to wait until the ritual. Save everything up till then, you know?”

“I understand, though I don’t think that’s how it works,” you said with a laugh. “But if you’re sure…”

He nodded. “I am. We’ll have our time soon, cara, and it will be great for both of us.” 

Copia escorted you to your room, reminding you that your belongings would soon be moved to the suite opposite his chambers. You were both nervous and excited. If the mind-blowing orgasm was any indication, you were going to like being his prime mover. The thought of getting pregnant didn’t scare you. If anything, it was more of a turn-on. Maybe you had a breeding kink that was just coming to light, but either way, it was the start of something new and a change you were desperate for. 

Everyone knew about your new position in less than twenty-four hours after Cardinal Nemo got drunk and began hiccuping parts of your contract to anyone listening. Those listening happened to be a handful of Siblings and ghouls. Everyone stared at you like you were some sort of unholy relic. It made you feel very self-conscious. 

But spending time with Copia every day made it worth it. 

You sat together at meals in the dining hall and he helped you unpack your things into your new suite. You thought you’d get a cavity from how sweet it was watching him make your bed with sheets and a duvet in his colors. 

You spent the next week working your job, attending meetings with the Ministry book club, and receiving checkups from the doctor Sister Imperator hired to care for your health while you were Prime Mover. Doctor Miller was a kind woman around your age. She got your health records and made sure you were up to date on any and all shots as well as had blood work done. Her only recommendation was to cut the caffeine. You were healthy. 

Then it was the evening of the ritual before you knew it. You stared at the black robes you were to wear into the chapel. 

“And only the robe,” the ghoulette who delivered the robe said. 

Slowly, you took your clothes off, discarding them into the laundry hamper, your nerves on edge. You knew you had no real reason to be nervous. You wanted this. The certainty in that filled deep into your soul. No, you knew why you were nervous. You wanted to impress him; wanted to be the best of the lovers he’s had. 

You wanted him to like you more than a friend; you didn’t want your loneliness to be the price of his company, nor your pregnancy the payment for it. 

“Don’t be stupid. He’s already proven that you mean more to him than any of that,” you told yourself as you put the robe on. You secured the robe, making sure you were fully covered, then pulled the hood over your head. You stepped out of your room and found two Copia’s ghoulettes, Cumulus and Cirrus, waiting to escort you. There was a chill in the air and you pulled the robes tighter around your body. It didn’t help because your bare feet were sucking the cold from the stone floor right up into you. 

“He’s nervous about impressing you too,” Cumulus whispered as they walked on either side of you.

“How did you-” You began to ask before Cirrus cut in.

“We can feel the energy coming off you two.” 

“Oh…”

The rest of the walk was silent, and a minute later, she was stepping into the chapel. Candles in sconces and candelabras littered the now-empty chapel, casting warm glows through the space. A futon mattress, covered in black satin sheets and pillows, lay in the middle of the room. A blood-red pentagram, marked by candles at each corner, encircled the mattress. Straight across on the other side of the pentagram stood Copia in front of the altar that always stood in the chapel. He wore the same robes you did, but his hood was down, allowing you to see his black and white papal paints.

“Good evening, tesoro,” he said, beckoning you forward with a leather-gloved hand. “Around the circle, please.” 

You nodded and made your way over to him. His eyes never left you as you approached. Once you were within reach, he held out a hand to you. You took it and he gently pulled you in. 

He smelled of bergamot and cedar, and it instantly settled your nerves like a drug. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “How are you feeling tonight?”

“Nervous,” you admitted.

“Me too,” he said as he lowered your hand to reach for a stone bowl with viscous, dark liquid. “Are you ready? This is our last chance to change our minds.”

“I’m ready. Are you?” You asked, looking up at him from under your hood.

“Si, I’m ready,” he said. He reached forward and lowered your hood. He then dipped a gloved finger into the liquid. “This is goat’s blood. It’s been ethically sourced and tested. It won’t make you sick or harm you.”

You nod.

“I’m going to put this on your skin and start the blessing. After that, you do the same to me and then we will step into the circle. I will continue the blessing and take some oils and draw sigils onto your stomach. Once that is done, we’ll consummate this pact. Capisci?”

“Yes,” you said. 

“Bene,” he replied and lifted his finger from the blood. You felt his finger draw an inverted pentagram on your forehead and then he spoke. 

“Pater noster apud inferos Benedic impia unio Ut conatus sit successus Et faciamus superbos tuos in natura nostra maxime prima Nema.”

Your Latin was terrible, so you had no idea what he actually said, but it wasn’t something you could worry about now, because it was your turn to do the same to him. You prayed that you didn’t mess this up and accidentally ask Satan to be turned into a rat or something.

The blood was warm as you dipped your finger into it and drew the inverted pentagram on his forehead. The blood and the white paint on his skin blended into pink as you worked. He lowered his head slightly so you could comfortably reach without standing on your toes. 

“Pater noster apud inferos Benedic impia unio Ut conatus sit successus Et faciamus superbos tuos in natura nostra maxime prima Nema.”

He smiled, your only indication that you said everything right, as he took the bowl from your hand and put it on the altar. He took your hand and led you into the circle. You made sure to follow his steps and stepped over the lines of blood. Once at the center of the pentagram with the mattress, Copia stopped down and picked up a small glass bottle filled with clear oil. 

“May I take this off?” He asked, gesturing to your robe.

“You may,” you answer.

He unclasped the fastenings on your robe and you let it pool around your feet. You watched as his eyes widened and he took in your naked form. 

“Bellissima,” he murmured before dipping his fingers into the oil. He knelt in front of you and then began drawing symbols on your bare stomach.

“Pater noster apud inferos Hanc unionem impiam benedicite Et benedic mater sancta Et parit posteros Ed finem temporum Et regnum tuum regnat in aeternum Nema.”

He set the oil down and took your hands as he looked up at you. “If at any point you want to stop, tell me.”

“Okay,” you said before he tugged you down to the mattress and kissed you. 

His lips were soft on yours. His hand cupped your jaw as he deepened the kiss. He tasted you and explored your mouth. You didn’t understand how he could fit so much passion into one kiss. You thought this would be awkward, but you should have known better after he fingered you while you sat in his lap a week prior. 

He began tracking a path of kisses that started at your lips and went along your jaw and down your neck. When he found the spot on your neck that made your pulse jump, he let out a low rumble and nipped your skin. 

“Oh!” You gasped, neck tilting to give him more access to your skin. Heat surged to your center, and just with a few well-placed kisses, you were wet. 

Copia cradled the back of your head and guided you to lie back on the mattress. His body covered yours as he nudged your thighs apart with his knee and positioned himself between them. He kissed down your chest to your breasts while his hand began to stroke over your clit. A moan fell from your lips as he flicked his tongue over one of your nipples. “You’re already so wet for me,” he breathed against your skin. “Eager, Sorella?”

“Y-yes,” you panted, not bothering to lie.

He hummed in response before sitting back on his knees and removing his hand and mouth from your body. You let out a small and somewhat annoyed whimper, but it died in your throat as you watched him grab his hardened cock and begin to pump it. Your eyes never left him as he guided his cock towards your entrance. He ran it over your slit, coating it in your wetness before glancing up at you.

“Do you want this?” He asked as he looked into your eyes. 

“Yes,” you replied, staring back into his eyes.

Without another word, he was slowly pushing his cock into you. Your body stretched to accommodate his girth. The sting was delicious and when you let out a hiss; he paused. 

“You okay?” He asked in a shaky voice, as though he were struggling to hold on to a ledge with all his might.

“Yes, keep going,” you groaned. “You’re big.”

He smirked and chuckled, but he continued to slowly enter you before finally bottoming out. His cock made you feel so full and you wondered if you’d ever be able to have sex with any other after him ever again. 

“You’re tight,” he breathed, leaning down and pressing kisses to your jaw before kissing your lips. “Whenever you’re ready…”

“I’m ready,” you insisted. There was a white-hot coil of desire and need winding itself tighter and tighter in your belly. “Please move.”

He didn’t say a word as he hiked your legs up around his middle and began to pull out, leaving only the tip of his cock inside of you before sinking back in. It was a steady rhythm he started; each thrust making your back move against the mattress and your breasts bounce in time. He watched you in rapt wonder, and each moan that left your lips seemed to spur him on more and more. He let go of one of your thighs and brought his hand back to your clit, rubbing circular patterns over it in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck,” you groaned as your nails bit into the sheets below you. “You’re going to make me come.” 

“I know,” he panted. “I need to see that pretty face of yours scrunch up and relax again as you come. You have no idea how beautiful that was for me to see last week.” 

Normally it took a lot more than just words to get you off, but after Copia told you how beautiful you had looked after he made you come with his fingers the week prior, you knew you had lost the battle. The coil in you snapped, and you were tumbling over the metaphorical edge. Your hands moved from the sheets to his arms, gripping them as you came. 

“Yes, fuck,” Copia groaned. “Vieni a prendermi, vieni su tutto il mio cazzo (Come for me, come all over my cock).” He leaned down, burying his face between your breasts, smearing more of his papal paints across your skin. You didn’t care. All you cared about was the orgasm you were riding out.

He looked up from your chest and kissed your lips as he continued to thrust into you. His thrusts that were steady and neat were now becoming fast and hard. You knew he couldn’t hold on much longer. You saw it in his eyes—they darkened and burned into you. 

“Can’t—” He stammered as he thrust into you two more times before filling you with his spend. You could feel his cock kick at each spurt and it made you shiver with delight. 

A minute passed and the two of you were silent. You were both panting and coming down from the wave of bliss. His eyes were closed as his head dropped against yours and he muttered something in Italian that you couldn’t make out. He stayed like that for a second more before slowly pulling out of you. You let out a soft groan at the loss of him. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before lying down next to you. “You were amazing,” he breathed. “Divine, and still so unholy.” 

“I think that might have been the best sex I’ve ever had,” you admitted as you recounted your past lovers. Sure you got off and sure you had a good time, but none of them could compare to what you and Copia just did. 

A laugh bubbled out of his throat as he looked over at you. There was a twinkle in his eyes that you couldn’t place. Admiration? Lust? Joy? You weren’t quite sure. “There’s more where that came from,” he said, with a hint of smugness in his voice. “Eh, just give me a few minutes to recover. I’m an old man after all.”

“You’re not that old,” you laugh. 

“Old enough though,” he said before pulling you closer and kissing you.

Notes:

Poorly translated Latin 1: Our Father in Hell Bless our unholy union May our efforts be a success And may we make you proud in our most primal nature Poorly translated Latin 2: Our Father in hell Bless this unholy union And bless this holy mother As she brings forth the next generation To bring about the end times So your kingdom reigns forevermore

[cosmowgyral]

"Once again, the Evil that cannot be Undone: Tonight you will fall for me"

▪︎ William and Nica

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

Even though it says William and Nica, the first chapter solely comprises of William and the second chapter that of Nica. So it's almost like any other story event but technically with two less chapters for a suitor. Cybird got us good. :/

Chapter 1

I turned off the lights and got into bed, but I just couldn’t sleep.

(….I wonder whether my anxiety is keeping me wide awake.)

Even though I knew it would be better for me to rest, I quietly slipped out of bed.

The inside of the quiet and deserted castle feels strangely comfortable.

As I walk lightly, a faint melody reaches my ears.

Drawn by the sound of piano, I arrived at the great hall.

William: You’re up late, robin.

William noticing my presence stopped playing the piano.

Kate: Yes. I couldn’t sleep for some reason.

William: I see. …..You look a bit relaxed tonight.

I realized it when he pointed out.

The reason why Crown Castle was so comfortable at night with no one around…

Kate: That might be because, well…

Kate: At night, I can be alone in the castle, so maybe that’s why I feel more at ease.

William: ……..

William neither confirmed nor denied it, just stared at me quietly, waiting for me to continue.

(….I feel like I can tell William about my feelings.)

Kate: …..Ever since I lost my memories, everyone has been so nice to me.

Kate: It’s just…I feel like you’re all seeing my lost memories through me.

Kate: So that’s why……

In the end, the feelings I couldn’t put into words were taken up by William.

William: Is it painful for you to receive kindness directed towards your ‘past self’?

It’s arrogant to think that it’s difficult to accept others’ kindness.

Moreover, it is quite outrageous to make such an opulent complaint to someone.

But even so, I could hide nothing in front of William and the words slipped out of my mouth.

Kate: …The reason why everyone is being nice to me is because they were friends with me in the past.

Kate: Now that I don’t know if I can ever regain my memories, it’s difficult for me to accept their kindness.

Kate: Even though everyone’s been so good to me, what’ll happen if I can’t get back the ‘me’ from the past?

(So...at night, when I was finally alone at Crown Castle, I could relax.)

(At this moment, I wonder if anyone will feel sad and pity me for losing my memories.)

After hearing my confession, William lowered his eyes and seemed to contemplate on something.

But that was only for a moment—and then he sat down at the piano again and placed his hands on the keys.

William: Kate, I’m going to play three songs now.

William: Once you’ve finished listening, I’ll ask you to rank them in order of your preference. So listen carefully.

---The sound of William playing the piano echoes through Crown castle at night.

Some songs are as whimsical as a cat running around in an alleyway.

And then there are songs that are graceful and slow, like a fish swimming leisurely.

Kate: Every song was amazing!

Kate: But if I had to order them….I would say the third, then the first and then second.

William: That order is the same as the one you said before.

Kate: My past self…?

William: Yes. Even if you lose your memories, the fundamental part of you doesn’t change.

William: Kate is still Kate.

William: There is no need to feel sorry or intimidated by the kindness of those around you.

William: They are all directed at one person, you.

Kate: ……Thank you, William.

It's possible that I won't be able to recollect my memories and enjoy them with you all.

But I finally feel like I’m happy to be here…..

Kate: If it’s not too much trouble, could you please play one more song?

Kate: I just wanted to hear you play the piano a little longer.

I wonder why I feel a bit strange today.

The old me would never have asked someone to play for me in the middle of the night like this.

William didn’t seem to feel offended by my selfishness.

Instead, he smiled happily and placed his hands on the keyboard.

William: What would you like to listen to?

…..

Kate: That was a wonderful performance! Thank you very much.

William: As a token of appreciation for playing, would you answer one question of mine?

Kate: ….? Of course, please go ahead.

William: Why are you here in the hall?

The reason I came here was simple-- because I heard the sound of piano.

But—just as I was about to answer that, I fell silent.

Because that answer is directly denied by the anxiety that has been consuming my thoughts up until this point.

 (I…liked the castle at night, when I could be alone.)

(So why did I come here knowing that William was playing the piano?)

(If I had wished to be alone, I should have gotten away from the sound of piano.)

After thinking about it, I came up with an answer.

Kate: You didn’t show a sad expression when you looked at me……

Kate: I came here because I thought I could easily approach you.

William: ….I see. So that’s your reason.

William: I am honoured to be a comfortable perch for the robin.

Kate: William, were you not on good terms with me before I lost my memory?

William: No, not at all. I think we were good friends.

Kate: If that’s the case, then why…….

How is it that even though I’ve lost my memory, he can still act as usual?

It seems he understood the question I had in mind.

William: The reason I don’t feel sad or sorry for you even though you have lost your memories is simple.

William: Because I’m certain.

William: If you were to make the same choice again….

Captivated by William’s powerful gaze and words, I momentarily forgot to breathe.

Although he said nothing, I felt as if I could hear a voice coming from the other side of the darkness.

‘Choose me’, William voice said.

[Chapter 2] [Masterlist]

[lostinlovingrevery]

Saturday Night Laundry

Worst! Wolverine X GN! Reader

You take Logan to a new dig

A/N: Yay! I finally made something! Also yes, I'm using an aesthetic image instead of Logan gif. I want to broad my horizons...Yafeelme?

Warnings: Fluff, laundry (ugh), small description of rotting into the earth, mentions of Wades antics, established relationship, implications of previous sexual activity

“See? I told you it’s not so bad!” 

Logan looked at the building with distaste. This wasn’t his idea of a good time on Saturday night. You insisted, however, maintaining that this place was the best to hit up on nights like this. You claimed that its vibe and energy were unmatched by any other like it. 

The laundromat. 

A place with a blue neon sign above its doors, called Fold It Like It’s Hot. On the window was a small red neon sign, flashing 24/7. Another sign with Laundromat flashing blue.

Sitting between an organic foods market, and a chiropractor’s office, the cold inflorescence lights inside poured out onto the empty street, over you and Logan’s figures. He held a large laundry bag in one hand hanging over his shoulder, and a smaller laundry basket, his arm wrapped around it. You had a basket perched on your hip.��

He looked down at you, a frown on his face as you beamed up at him. 

“I’m still not convinced.” He shakes his head. 

“Oh, you will be.” You nod confidently. You walk forward to the door, pulling it open for Logan as he steps inside. 

The place was very clean, compared to the place he usually went to for laundry. Wade and Althea went there, so naturally Logan ended up there too. It wasn’t exactly a high quality laundromat. The washers don’t seem to do good in actually washing, and he’s had to run his clothes through a dryer more than two times to actually get dry. The floors were always strangely sticky, there was a bullet hole in one of the windows the owners never patched up, and the worst part of it was Wade always insisted on doing laundry there with him; Then proceeded to tell everybody in there that they were newlyweds. 

He still gets congrats from neighbors in the building. 

He doesn’t even live with Wade anymore. He has since moved out and you and him have gotten a nice little place together. Away from Wade. The fucker always knows what you two were up to though. 

White walls with painted bubbles across it. Squeaky clean blue tiled floors- so shiny he could see his reflection. Dryers lined two walls opposite of each other, with two rows of washers that sat in the center of the space. Two vending machines filled with snacks and drinks sat by the door, and another at the end of the room dispensed detergent. Plenty of fine, comfortable chairs are placed everywhere. The lights were harsh with the inflorescence, but there were small neon signs with laundry puns everywhere- and plants decorated the space, bringing out a liveliness to it. Perhaps he could understand where you were coming from. 

It was deserted. 

“People don’t come here on Saturday nights to do laundry. Perfect for us!” You smile. “Empty, open washers and dryers. Pleasant music-” You referred to the classical jazz playing on the speakers. 

“I don’t like the lighting.”

“Okay I give you that. Very cold.” You say glancing around, you set your basket on top of the washer. “It makes it feel clean though?” you turned to face him, a shrug of your shoulders and tilt of your head as you smiled. 

He curled a brow, and finally a glimmer of a smile came across his lips. He walked over to where you were, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Yeah, it’s clean at least.” He hummed. He sat the basket on another washer, and the bag on the floor. “You got the quarters?”

You reached into your back pocket, pulling out your wallet, which you then pulled a card out. “No coins. We go digital in this house.” You wink. He sighed. “What? At least you don’t have to worry about it jamming in there and losing it. You just put how much you want on the card, and poke it in there and it’s done. Easy!” 

“Damn machines are going to corrupt us all.” He shakes his head. You giggle, stepping forward to wrap your arms around him.

“You really are an old man. You know that?” You tipped your chin up at him. You mimicked his voice, “Those phones are bad for you! That TV is going to rot your brain! Get off my lawn whippersnappers!” 

He growled, his arms wrapping around you and dipping you, making you shriek and giggle profusely, attempting to grab on to him but he had himself wrapped tight around you. He leans his forehead against yours. “If I’m an old man, what does that make you huh bub?” 

“A golddigger.” You smiled, your lips brushing over his as you talked.

“I don’t have any money sweetheart.” 

“Mm, I guess it’s the personality then.”

He chuckled, tilting his head to capture you in a searing kiss. You melted into him, your body laxing in trust that he won’t drop you. He brought you back to your feet, leaving you giggly and lightheaded as he snatched the card from your hand, winking at you with a smirk as he went to a washer. 

He stopped at the washer, staring at the machine and the laundry card, observing them both. Then shook his head. 

“Where the hell does this go?” 

After you showed him how to pay and operate the washer properly, you both worked on starting multiple loads of laundry in comfortable silence. With the empty laundromat, you had all the washers needed. A combination of you and Logan’s clothes, both of your underwear, and the bedsheets that had become very messy from your proclivities early this morning. 

While you were pushing in the last load of laundry, Logan went to the vending machine, dispensing your favorite snack. He presented it to you casually, but you beamed up at him and thanked him as you opened the snack and gladly feasted. 

You both sat down on one of the more comfortable chairs presented to the area. You leaned on his sturdy shoulder, closing your eyes as you quietly chewed on your snack. You felt him take a deep breath, his muscles finally relaxing.

“I guess this place isn’t so bad. It’s quiet.” He mutters. You opened your eyes, a twitch of your lips, as you nuzzled into him. He moved his arm, wrapping it around you and pulling you closer. “Never thought I’d be…doing this.” 

“What. Laundry?” You giggled. “Did you not do laundry? You must have smelled awful before we met.”

“Hush.” He says, but you could hear his amusement. “No I mean just something so…. Normal. Quiet. It’s nice.” 

“It is.” You say, you tilt your head up at him. “You okay?” You ask, saying the reflective look on his face. His eyes met yours, and a reassuring smile grew on his face as his eyes softened.

“Yeah bub. I am.” He says. He leaned forward pressing another kiss to your forehead. You hummed, before standing up, and reaching your hand out to his, pulling him up from his seat with you. He looked at you quizzically but you pulled him close.

“The music is nice. Dance with me?” You asked. 

He wrapped his arms around you, obliging in your wish as tilted his head down to yours. Slowly, you both began rocking back and forth to the melody of the smooth jazz over the speakers. The rumble of the washers filled the room. You both were wrapped in each other's arms, lost in each other's eyes. 

At one point in his life - actually, multiple points. He begged for death. To be able to finally close his eyes and take the eternal rest. Let his body rot into the Earth and actually do something good for the world by letting the bugs and critters and detritivores eat away at him and provide some kind of nourishment to life that he couldn’t do himself.

He’s fought men and monsters. Endured pain that would make anyone go insane. Saved a few lives, and ended more. He carried a heavy weight inside him everyday, both physically, and metaphorically. 

Now here he was, doing laundry. With you.

He’s not exactly sure what the universe’s goal is. To put him through hell, and then place him in this life of domesticity; He was glad to be here though. As long as you were there.

“I hope we can do laundry every Saturday night like this, for a long time.” You whispered to him. He hummed in agreement. 

Maybe this place wasn’t so bad.

[lunajay33]

Target

•🩵🪽•

Summary: You’ve always been the quiet girl of the friend group between you Bonnie, Caroline and Elena, they convince you to go to the ball but when things go wrong Jeremy becomes your night in shinning armour

Pairing: Jeremy Gilbert x f!reader

Warning: Bullying

•Masterlist•

I grew up with my best friends, Elena, Caroline and Bonnie, they were all so outgoing and had no problem getting guys I mean Elena has two brothers in love with her and Matt still love her

But I was always the quiet one that no body seemed to take a second look at

“Come on y/n you have to go to the ball” Caroline whined as they all came and sat with me around the lunch table

“Oh I don’t know I don’t have a date”

“Who cares you can still have fun with us” Bonnie smiled

I shrugged with a little smile and they knew that was my way of saying yes

“Great you better be there tonight or we’re dragging you out of the house” Elena said as she ran off to Stefan

•

I tied up the back of my dress and did the final touches to my hair and makeup, breathing out a sigh of anxiety I got in my car and headed to the town ball, my dress a pale shimmer blue with a corset left over from my family as I was part of a founding family of this town

Parking my car I got out and walked towards the entranced where music was already started and people dancing around or sipping on champagne

Before I got inside I was stopped by a hand on my waist

“Well don’t you look beautiful” my heart skips a beat and I turn to see Jeremy Gilbert, the guy I’ve loved since we were kids but I know Caroline and Elena would judge me

“You look quite dashing yourself Jeremy” he smiles as he hooks his arm with mine leading me inside

“And where is your date tonight?” I ask surprised the hottest guys I town doesn’t have one

“Don’t have one, the girl I want to ask is forbidden” he says as he gives me a longing look as he leads me onto the dance floor taking my waist in one hand and my hand in the other and swaying to the music

“Do I know this mystery girl?”

“Oh you know her very well, she’s gorgeous, quiet, shy, oh and my sisters friend”

“Bonnie I assume” I sigh a bit upset

“No not Bonnie, she’s here tonight wearing a blue dress that makes me want to drool” my cheeks flush and I’m at a loss for words

As I open to say something back I’m interrupted

“Y/n what are you doing dancing with Jeremy, don’t tell me you were desperate enough for a date you ask your best friends little brother” Caroline mocks

“I….he was being nice he wanted to dance Caroline” I stutter, she could be really harsh sometimes

“That’s kind of pathetic using my brother” Elena chimes in, I look back up at Jeremy and he looks angry, he was always sweet to me that’s why I love him

“I’m sorry I just wanted to have fun” I said as I felt Jeremy’s warm hand on my lower back rubbing up and down

They took their glasses of champagne and doused me in it getting everyone’s attention completely embarrassing me

I turn and run outside as I hear them laughing, letting the tears fall when I get to the bench that over looks the lake

What did I do to make them hate me I thought we were best friends, would it be so wrong for me to love someone as nice as Jeremy

“Hey are you okay?” Jeremy asks as he sits next to me

“I guess, probably my fault anyways I know they like to pick on anything I do” his hand comes to pull me close to his chest

“It’s not your fault they’re just cruel and they’re not your friends if they treat you like that, you deserve someone who treats you like the princess you are”

“You’re just saying that because I’m soaked in champagne and my makeup is ruined”

“No im saying this because I love you” he says tipping my head up so I look at him

“You do?”

“Of course I do I’ve loved you from the moment Elena brought you over when we were young”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to make you chose”

“I love you too Jeremy, and after what just happened I don’t think I have to chose anymore” he leans down as he pulls me into a kiss deep and passionate, having been craving this forever

“I’ve wanted that for so long Angel”

“Me too now how about we get out of here and get some food and milkshakes”

“It would be my pleasure”

[majoryeager104]

dabi reacting to his kid snapping at his mom?

ahh I haven’t written dad Dabi in so long but ofc nonnie I gotchu omg <3

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

Life was never quiet for your family. Between Dabi disappearing late at night for his missions, and you constantly having to hide the fact that, yes, you had a child with one of the most feared villains in Japan, you couldn’t really catch a break.

Even at home it was rough.

Because here you stood, in the living room of your apartment, having a back and forth argument with your child.

“sweetie, I told you to put your toys away five minutes ago”

you spoke up, your arms crossed over your chest. He merely sat there ignoring you, but the prominent pout on his face when you spoke showed his guilt.

“I don’t wanna”

he replied, balling up his fists as he looked down at his toys, which were strewn across the ground. He knew why you wanted him to put them away; because you had to run to the store, and dad wasn’t home yet. But he didn’t want to put his toys away, he wanted to keep playing.

“It’ll just be a quick trip to the store and then you can come back and play again”

your compromise only seemed to make him more upset. You heard the door click behind you, open and shut, as familiar, heavy boots hit the floor. Your son, on the other hand, did not notice that, turning to face you as he yelled;

“Leave me alone!”

But right behind you now, was dad.

Dabi looked between you, a blank expression on his face before he spoke up. “Is that any way to treat your mom?” He said gruffly, walking up and crouching to look at his son, who seemed awfully quiet now. “Come on, kid, yes or no” Dabi said quietly, nudging him. “…no…” he replied quietly. Dabi nodded, and looked back to you. “So what do you say to mom, then?” He said, winking at you, a gesture simply put as, ‘you’re welcome’

“…sorry mom..” the boy said softly, standing up and walking over to you. He was still fairly small, and merely hugged your legs, burying his face against the fabric of your jeans. You picked him up and hugged him back, telling him it was okay until he stopped pouting.

Once you’d put him down so he could clean up his toys, Dabi walked up to you, smiling fondly between you two. “He’s just like you” you said quietly, leaning against the counter. Dabi frowned, his brow furrowed slightly as he looked back at the kid “yeah…I know”

After he’d cleaned, Dabi threw your son over his shoulder. “Alright kid, you and me are going shopping so mom can take a break from looking at you” he said, walking right back out the door as your son giggled and laughed. “Why? Mom isn’t sick of looking at me she calls me cute all the time?” “Mom’s lyin’ you’re ugly as hell” “hey!”

all the way out the door.

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

I couldn’t help myself with the angst in the last part like are you telling me that dad Touya DOESNT feel chronic guilt when his child acts to you as he acted to his mom?

[ravennaortiz]

2/26: Of course the only bed is heart shaped with Kozik requested by @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog As always 18+

“Awww, this is cute” you stated as Kozik held the hotel door open for you as he laughed. Of course you would be seeing this in a positive light. “It is!” you exclaimed as you looked at him over your shoulder as you dropped your bag on the heart shaped couch as you kicked your shoes off padding barefoot across the plush red carpet as you looked around.

“Yeah, cute is what I would call this. Looks like someone threw up Valentines Day in here” replied Kozik as he shut and locked the door. The whole room was done up in only red or pink. Hearts, teddy bears  and creepy eyed cupids adorned everything including the ceiling mirror above the bed. The bed of course which was heart shaped. “But beggars can’t be choosers” he added as he set his bag next to yours as he texted Tig to let him know you guys were safe for the night.

“I can’t believe they even had a room left. Let alone a Valentines Suite” you replied as you collapsed back on the bed. Moaning as it formed to you. You had spent all day pretty much on the back of Koziks bike as the two of you rushed to get to Charming due to another club lockdown. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a mirror over the bed” you added as you smiled up at your reflection.

“Agreed” replied Kozik as he put his phone away. “May have to get one” he added making you laugh. “Do you want to shower first?” he inquired as he sat down and shuffled through his bag.

“Yes, if you don’t mind” you replied as you sat up. Once he shook his head you grabbed your bag.

**

Kozik was stepping out of the bathroom when his eyes landed on you still in your robe on the bed. He swallowed hard as his eyes caught movement in the mirror above and realized your hand was between your thighs. He was about to retreat back to the bathroom when you spoke.

“Join me Koz. We both know you want me” you said as you opened your eyes and turned to face him as you bit back a soft moan.

A few minutes later Kozik was underneath you as you rode his cock hard. His eyes locked on your guys reflection in the mirror above. This was so wrong he thought as he felt himself release deep inside of you as his eyes landed on Tigs Crow that adorned your lower back.

[thewritetofreespeech]

baek yoonho x f!reader

plot: you thought the greatest obstacle to your relationship with yoon-ho would be your work schedules, or making it through a dungeon. apparently you were wrong though.

cw: fem reader, pre-existing relationship, age gap couple, miho is trying to be a good person but honestly it's hard

--------------------🐯---------------------------

The message on your phone was cryptic but seemed urgent. :Meet me at this address. 13:00 sharp: from an unknown number. You were tempted not to go, as you were not one to be told what to do by strangers on a telephone, but curiosity got the better of you.

You were surprised to find that the address was to a small diner downtown. The kind you get coffee and donuts either early in the morning or very late at night. Not much of a crowd draw in the afternoon. Still, you went in and looked around the fading décor to see if you recognized anyone and who the mysterious messenger might be.

“Ah shit…..”

Your eyes land down the row of booths to see Miho sitting at the third one. Her red hair sticking out vividly as ever and unmistakable, even before she looked up and made eye contact with you. “So it was you hn? Let me guess what this is about.” You tell her as you come close. No point in turning around now. Might as well sit across the table to let her get it all out.

“Can I get you anything?” The two of you turned towards the waitress that suddenly appeared. Clearly ready to take the tables order now that the full party was here. How long had Miho been waiting?

“Black coffee please.”

“Coffee. Double cream. Two sugar.” The younger woman sucked her teeth in disgust, and you turn to her. “Life ‘s too short to pretend to like black coffee kid.” Order complete, you lean back in your seat to stare at Miho. “Well. Out with it.”

“What are your intentions with my father?”

You arched a brow at the question. You half expected her to just come out and ask you to stop seeing Yoon-ho. The two of you had been together for a while, but tried to keep it a secret. When it did eventually get out, as all secrets tend to due, you expected the Vice Guild Master to come knocking with her complaints. Not ask what your ‘intentions’ were. “What is this a marriage meeting?”

Miho sighed. “I just want to know what it is you two are doing. Is this casual? Serious? Intimate?”

“Are you asking me if I’m fucking your dad?”

The waitress nearly dropped the coffee cup on the table as she suddenly returned again. Red faced as she sat the second cup down and scurried away. Miho sneered into her mug. “Must you be so crass?”

“I never claimed to be a lady.”

“Precisely. Which is why I don’t know what my father sees in you.” You jut your brows in silent agreement. You don’t know what Yoon-ho saw in you either. But the two of you enjoyed spending time together and you didn’t like to question when something was going good. “What do you see in him?”

“Besides your dad being super hot?” You couldn’t be sure, but you thought you might have heard Miho’s back teeth crack with how hard she was tightening her jaw. “I don’t know. I just like him. He’s smart. Funny. He’s a hard ass but…deep down he really cares and is a good person. He makes me want to be a good person.”

There was a moment of silence before Miho sipped her coffee and sat it back down. “Ok. I approve.”

“Approve?”

“Yes. I approve.” She repeated.

“I don’t need your permission to date anybody.” You remind her. “But…thanks.” You didn’t need it, but you guess it was nice to have. This couldn’t be easy for Miho. Seeing her father date. Plus, the fact that he was dating someone not that much older than her. Overall, she was being very mature about this.

“Just try to be responsible please. I’m too old to have a baby sibling.”

“Oh, come on. You wouldn’t be excited to be eonni down the road?”

Miho visibly grit her teeth at you. “I will leave you in a dungeon before that happens.” She threatened. Pulling out some bills before slapping them on the table and seeing herself out.

“Hmm….has her fathers temper….”

[hellopuns]

“Pokémon aren’t supposed to be objects”

“Pokémon shouldn’t look this human it’s weird”

Gang. They are SUPER SENTAI, TOYS, AND KAIJU. They’ve been this since the beginning