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inkandapex · 2 months ago

Text

stream madness pt.3

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando Norris and his girlfriend, Y/N continue to grace the stream with tooth-achingly sweet moments, often caught on camera. But they’re not immune to some naughty slip-ups, much to Max F's dismay.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: swearing, suggestive content

part 1 | part 2 | part 4

Mic On

It was already well into the night, and somehow, Max had convinced Lando to hop on his Twitch stream for a late-night Counter-Strike session. They were in between rounds when the door creaked open, and Y/N walked in.

Lando tugs off one side of his headset the moment he felt her hand rest on his shoulder, tilting his head back to look up at her.

“Oh, hey baby. How was dinner?” he murmured, catching her hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

Y/N smiled, running her fingers through his hair, making his eyes flutter shut for a brief second. “It was good. You’re on stream?”

“Mhmm.” He nodded, completely unbothered, yanking off his headset entirely.

Max’s voice suddenly boomed through the speakers. “Hey Y/N! Chat’s been looking for you.”

Y/N laughed, settling into the empty gaming chair beside Lando. “Sorry, chat. I was out with friends.”

Y/N’s eyes continued to scan the chat, answering a few questions every now and then, completely unaware of the way Lando was staring.

He hadn’t looked away since the moment she walked in. Not once.

Max was still talking, chat was flying, but Lando? Lando was somewhere else entirely.

Y/N finally glanced over, catching his intense gaze. She raised a brow, lips curving into a small smile. “What?”

Her soft voice snapped him out of his trance, but instead of looking flustered, Lando’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. He didn’t answer right away—just leaned in slightly, fingers reaching for his mic.

An attempt to mute himself.

Except—

He missed.

He tugs her chair a little closer, his hand sliding onto her lap as that familiar cheeky smirk plays on his lips.

“I was just thinking… you look really good right now, my love. Do you wanna—”

"MIC ON! MIC ON! YOUR MIC IS STILL ON!"

Max’s panicked scream blasted through the speakers.

Max’s panicked shouts made both of them jump, Y/N spinning her chair away in embarrassment while Lando nearly slid off his own chair from laughing.

Chat was going feral.

Lando, still wheezing, finally managed to get words out. “I just wanted to ask if she wanted to stay on the stream and play with us!”

Max, still skeptical, narrowed his eyes through the screen. “Sure, Lando. Sure.”

Lando shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Get your head out of the gutter, mate. Dirty bastard.”

Y/N, still red-faced, simply sighed. The damage was already done.

"max always having to come to their rescue will never not be funny" "LN was ready to risk it all" "cant blame bob, Y/N looks amazing" "MAX SHOUTING" "Please tell me someone clipped that"

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Fish are friends NOT food

"Baby, please. Your food is touching my food."

Lando’s whiny complaint made both Max and Y/N pause mid-chew, turning to look at him like he’d just announced he was retiring from racing to become a monk.

Max glanced over at Lando’s plate, unimpressed, before shaking his head with a chuckle. "You're unbelievable, mate."

"It's just sushi, Lan" Y/N muttered, barely sparing him a glance as she scrolled through her phone.

"It's fish!" Lando exclaimed, holding up his plate dramatically for the camera, zooming in to prove how his spring rolls were daring to brush against Y/N’s salmon nigiri.

Max snorted. “Grow up, Lando.”

Lando huffed, crossing his arms. "You grow up." He looks over at his girlfriend, pleading eyes "Baby please, I don't even want to touch it"

“Lan…” Y/N sighed in defeat, picking up the piece of sushi he was so dramatically complaining about and popping it into her mouth. “Happy?”

Lando watched in absolute horror, his face scrunching up like he’d just witnessed a crime. He shivered at the mere thought of it. “Don’t know how you can eat that… raw too.”

Y/N smirked, grabbing another piece. She held it up to him. “Try it. Come on.”

“No.”

“I promise you it’s good.”

“And I promise you I’m gonna be sick.” Lando leaned back, holding his arm out like she was trying to feed him actual poison.

Max, watching the whole thing unfold, burst out laughing. “This is the farthest I’ve ever seen Lando be from Y/N while being in the same room as her.”

Chat? Losing it.

"HE’S SO DRAMATIC I CAN’T" "MAX WITH THE LIVE COMMENTARY" "bro is scared of sushi"

“I’ll do a photoshoot for Quadrant merch if you eat one piece.”

Silence.

Both Max and Lando’s heads snapped toward Y/N so fast they could’ve gotten whiplash.

Y/N had denied every single request to model for Quadrant—begged, bribed, guilt-tripped—nothing had worked. Until now.

Max turned to the camera, mouth slightly agape. “Do you guys understand how long we’ve been asking Y/N to model for us? They weren’t even dating yet and we were already trying to convince her.”

Lando’s gaze flickered between the sushi and Y/N, eyes filled with pure despair and conflict.

“Two collections,” he blurted out.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“You have to model for two collections” Lando negotiated, like this was a high-stakes F1 contract and not about eating a single piece of fish.

Max and Y/N exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

“There you go, chat,” Max said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Now you know we’re working on two new collections, thanks to Lando’s terrible bargaining skills.”

Lando groaned, realizing he had just leaked their upcoming release in real time.

“Fine,” Y/N conceded, “but you have to actually chew and swallow it.”

Lando narrowed his eyes. “AND… you do a shoot with me for LN4 merch too.”

The room fell silent again.

Max watched in amusement as Lando and Y/N locked eyes, neither blinking, waiting to see who would fold first.

Max smirked. “This is the most intense negotiation I’ve ever witnessed, and I’ve seen Alpine and McLaren fight over Oscar Piastri.”

Finally, Y/N held out her hand. “Deal.”

Lando took it, but instead of shaking, he brought it up to his lips and kissed it. “Deal.”

Max exploded. “I can’t believe this is happening. Someone clip this, please, I’m begging—fuck it, I gotta film this.” He fumbled for his phone, nearly knocking over his drink in the process.

Lando let out a deep, dramatic breath, grabbing his water bottle like it was his lifeline.

Y/N’s smile stretched wide, almost devilish, as she slowly inched the piece of sushi closer to Lando’s mouth.

“Open up, cutie,” she cooed.

Lando shot her a look of betrayal, but he had already sealed his fate. With a deep breath, he took the piece into his mouth, chewing at full speed, eyes squeezed shut like he was enduring actual pain.

Max was already cackling.

Lando forced himself to swallow, then dramatically opened his mouth wide to prove it was gone before immediately chugging half his water bottle like his life depended on it.

Y/N and Max? Wheezing.

Max threw his hands up. “And history has been made!”

Still recovering, Lando grabbed a spring roll and took the biggest bite possible, desperately trying to erase the taste of fish from his mouth.

Y/N ruffled his hair, grinning proudly. “Proud of you, my love. I’m telling Carlos about your bravery today.”

Lando nearly choked on his spring roll. “No. You are not.”

"HE TOOK IT LIKE A CHAMP" "Lando vs. Sushi—Sushi wins" "CARLOS NEEDS TO HEAR ABOUT THIS ASAP"

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Australia GP

Max had woken up far too early, but the excitement for the Australia race had him buzzing. He’d set up his stream, ready to deliver some live commentary for his viewers as they watched the race unfold. Max had already talked about Lando's stellar performance from practice and qualifying, and of course, a handful of jabs about Y/N's debut on the big screen.

As the camera cut to Y/N chatting with Cisca, Lando’s mom, during the red flag pause, Max’s eyes lit up.

“Ah, there she is! WAG title stealer!” Max exclaimed, clapping his hands loudly as the broadcast showed Y/N mid-conversation, the words "Lando’s partner" flashing across the screen beneath her name.

The chat exploded with laughing emojis as Max quickly snapped a picture on his phone, an evil smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m sending this straight to Lando. He’s gonna love this. Bro is down bad for her, it's actually sickening”

The race hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. Max was feeling empathetic for all the rookies, as well as Carlos and Fernando, who were all out of the race early, DNFing one by one. But what really sent everyone into a bit of a spiral was when both McLarens went off-track, and then Oscar slid off into the grass.

Max kept going with his commentary, his usual sharp observations now mixed with praise for Oscar’s effort to get his car back on track. He was doing his best to keep it light, but when the camera cut to a replay of the McLaren garage’s reaction, Max couldn’t help himself.

“Oh dear,” Max chuckled softly, eyes glued to the screen. “Look at Y/N. I think she aged 10 years and it’s only race 1 of 24.”

Y/N’s face was a mix of concern and pure stress, tightly holding hands with Cisca as she watched her partner’s car struggle. Her eyes went wide when Oscar’s car slipped, and the pressure was visible on her face.

Max, clearly enjoying himself, added, “Poor Y/N looks like she’s about to start a full-on grey hair collection.”

The chat was absolutely losing it.

"MAX IS SO SAVAGE LMAO" "Y/N'S FACE JUST AGES A DECADE" "she's just like us" "SOMEONE CHECK ON Y/N SHE'S ABOUT TO HAVE A MELTDOWN"

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Swirly Pistachi-OH!

Max and Lando sat side by side, setting up a lobby to play a new game, both of them already gearing up for the chaos that would ensue. The vibe was relaxed, but that quickly shifted when the door opened, and Y/N walked in, looking absolutely fuming.

"Lando! I can't believe you. I've—"

Max immediately reaches over and mutes his mic, the tension in the room rising as both he and Max exchanged brief glances. Y/N didn’t even acknowledge them, her hands waving around, clearly heated about whatever had just happened. Her eyes locked onto Lando,

Lando can be seen reaching out to her, both now in deep conversation while Max sat there like a child caught in the middle of his parents arguing.

Lando can be seen running his hands through his hair, immediately reaching for his phone as she stormed off, clearly done with the argument.

Max, ever the opportunist, unmuted himself with a small sigh. “Alright, so… that argument?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It was about who ate her ice cream from the freezer”

Lando, still rubbing his temples in frustration, groaned. “Mate, keep your voice down, she has super hearing.”

Max burst into laughter, throwing his head back. “Chat’s probably thinking it’s something serious”

Before Lando could respond, the door slammed open again with a dramatic flair, and there stood Y/N, hands on her hips, eyes practically smoking with fury.

"It was swirly pistachi-oh— Fewtrell, you know how hard it is to get a hold of that!" she snapped, voice sharp as a knife.

Lando pursed his lips, doing his absolute best to hold back his laughter, but it was clear he was about to lose it. He could feel Max trying to hide his grin beside him, but Lando knew the minute Y/N saw him struggling, it was only going to make things worse.

Max, still processing, blinked a few times in disbelief. “Wait, like Lec’s swirly pistachio? Charles Leclerc’s?”

Y/N shot Max a look that could melt steel. “Yes, Max. Charles' ice cream. It sells out so fast around here, it’s like gold. And Lando—” she turned her glare to him, the look of death now firmly in place, “—decided to eat my stash. The whole thing. All of it.”

Lando couldn’t keep it in anymore and burst into laughter, clutching his stomach as the weight of the situation hit him. But the moment he saw Y/N's expression change—eyebrows raised, hands on her hips like she was ready to deliver an epic punishment—his laughter faltered.

Y/N squinted at him like he had just committed war crimes. “Oh, you think this is funny?”

Lando immediately stopped laughing and put his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry, baby, please… Come here.”

But Y/N stood firm, not budging an inch. Her arms stayed crossed, her expression still ice-cold.

Lando’s smile faltered as he stood up to walk towards her. “Come on, my love… I already texted Charles to see if he can get us some more,” he said, doing his best to sound sweet and sincere, though the grin trying to form on his face was absolutely betraying him.

Y/N eyed him suspiciously, her lips pursed in the tightest line. “You texted Charles? Before apologizing to me?”

Lando hesitated, then shrugged sheepishly. “Well, he’s the pistachio supplier, isn’t he? Just trying to get the best deal for us.”

Max, now full-on crying from laughing, added, “You know, I think Charles might just have one last scoop left in his freezer. You’ve got to pull out the big guns, mate.”

Lando pulls her into a tight hug while shooting Max a glare that could only be described as a silent plea for mercy. But as Y/N’s gaze softened slightly, he knew he might just be getting out of this one alive… for now.

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The Accidental Moan

Lando and Max were deep into a heated game of Tarkov, and Y/N walked in, casually leaning against the doorframe, watching the two of them play. She walks over behind Lando’s chair, arms folded as she observed their chaotic gameplay.

Lando glanced up at her, offering a playful grin. “Hi, my love. Wanna grab a chair and join us?”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head, her fingers threading through Lando’s messy curls. “I’m good. Just making food right now. Came to check on you two.”

Max groaned from the other side of the room. “Perfect timing. I’m starving.”

Y/N laughed. “I know, you’ve been playing for hours.”

Lando leaned back in his seat, humming contentedly as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Mmm, that feels nice, baby,” he sighed, half-losing focus on the game as he relaxed into her touch.

Y/N grinned, her fingers still running through his hair. “Your hair’s a bit tangled, you know.”

Max snorted from the other side. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t seen a brush in weeks.”

Lando smirked, keeping his eyes on the screen but clearly enjoying the attention. “I like it like this.”

Y/N laughed lightly, “I’m sure you do.” She leaned down to give him a quick kiss on the top of his head as he leaned into her touch.

“Alright, I gotta go check on the food,” Y/N said, pulling her hands away from his hair. But as she did, something unexpected happened.

Her fingers got caught in the tangles of his curls, and as she moved away, it pulled harshly, making Lando let out a loud, unintentional moan.

Max, mid-game, froze. His eyes widened in shock. “What the fuck was that?!”

Y/N froze too, her face immediately turning a shade of red. She stood there, staring at Lando, unsure how to recover.

Lando, now realizing exactly what just happened, doubled over in laughter, his face bright red. “I swear, it wasn’t what it sounded like,” he managed to say between fits of giggles.

Max, still shocked, looked from Lando to Y/N, his face full of disbelief. “Oh no, it was exactly what it sounded like”

Lando, trying to stop laughing but failing miserably, looked at Y/N. “Oh baby...” He burst into laughter again, shaking his head.

Y/N, standing frozen with her hands still awkwardly in the air, just shook her head, biting back a laugh herself. “I didn’t mean to—” she started but was cut off by Lando’s giggles. "You know what, i'm leaving" Y/N shakes her head as she rushes out of the room

Max and Lando, still laughing at the absurdity of the situation, wiped tears from their eyes. “I can’t—I can’t even focus now,” Max gasped, trying to regain his composure.

Lando, still chuckling, shook his head, attempting to steady himself. “Yeah, alright, I’m good. I’m good.”

They both took deep breaths, trying their best to get back into the game.

Max, still grinning like a Cheshire cat, clicked his tongue and looked at Lando. “So... hair pulling, huh?”

“Shut up, Max.”

"LANDO IS INTO HAIR PULLING" "max's face!" "POOR Y/N" "LANDO CAUGHT ON LIVE AGAIN"

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Make me pretty

Viewers slowly began to fill Max's stream, immediately flooding the chat with comments about the unusual setting. The camera was focused on Lando, who was sitting in a make-up chair, while Y/N stood off to the side, rummaging through a pouch.

Max clapped his hands and grinned. “Alright, chat, welcome!”

Lando flashed a smile and gave a small wave to the camera. “Bit of a different setup today, we managed to rent out a tiny studio for an impromptu shoot,” Max explained.

Y/N returned to stand between Lando’s legs, gently dabbing a make-up sponge on his face.

“Y/N’s the one making sure Lando looks presentable today,” Max added.

Lando tilted his head slightly, looking up at her with a soft smile. “Make me pretty, baby.”

Y/N chuckled, carefully applying concealer. “I can if you'd stop moving so much”

Max stood to the side, watching intently. “Can you make him look like Carlos?”

Y/N didn’t miss a beat, scoffing as she carefully worked on Lando’s face. “I said I can make him look pretty, Max, not like a Spanish model. I’m not God.”

Max choked back a laugh, and Lando’s jaw dropped as he stared at Y/N, utterly bewildered. “Are you saying Carlos looks so good you can’t even make me look remotely like him?”

Y/N shot him a playful smirk as she continued her work. “Took the words right out of my mouth, baby.”

Lando shakes his head, looking at the camera and pointing a finger at it. “My girlfriend, everybody…”

“I’m kidding, Lan, come on!” Y/N laughs, tilting his face back to look at her as she brushes powder onto his face. Lando scrunches up his nose. “That tickles.”

Y/N chuckles at his reaction, planting a quick peck on his nose. “All done. See? Gorgeous.”

Lando looks at himself in the mirror, nodding with satisfaction. “Damn, I look good.”

Y/N stops him from getting up. “I gotta do your hair, baby. Just a little longer.”

Lando glances at the clock and then back at her. “You gotta hurry up a bit, love. Need to do Max’s makeup too, and we both know that’s gonna take you nearly the whole day just to make him look half decent.”

Max, who’s been silently listening to the conversation, suddenly snaps. “Why the fuck am I catching strays? I haven’t said a word in the past five minutes!”

“Max, come on mate, look at you. You look ghastly. You feeling okay lately?” Lando grinned

Max shot him a glare, rolling his eyes. “You look ill, Lando. Have you seen yourself?”

Lando waved him off dramatically. “Seriously, Max. I’m getting worried here. You look like you need a bit more TLC. Maybe a nap... an exorcism?”

Max groaned. “I hate you. You’re so annoying.”

Lando smirked. “You’re annoying.”

Meanwhile, Y/N stood silently with a hairbrush in hand, staring at the camera. Her expression was a mix of exhaustion and quiet desperation, as if she was silently pleading for help from the viewers as the two continued to bicker like an old married couple. “Help me…” she muttered under her breath, eyes still locked on the camera.

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2 Hands

Lando and Max were on their respective twitch streams, playing a rather relaxed game of UNO. It wasn't until Max decided to cheekily check Lando's stream to sneak a peak of his cards.

What surprised him, however, was his friend who had an annoyingly smug smirk on his face, his other hand no where in sight. And his girlfriend, suspisciously sat quietly beside him, wrapped in a blanket.

"You naughty little shit"

Lando’s whole body tenses. Y/N immediately looks away, suddenly very interested in the chat messages scrolling by at the speed of light.

Max’s smirk widens. "Hand check. Right now"

Lando, the master of deflection, tries to laugh it off as he shows his hand that was once set on the mouse. "Mate, what do you mean? My hands are—"

"Nah nah nah, show me both hands. Now!"

The chat goes feral.

"MAX IS ONTO THEM." 🕵️‍♂️"Lando’s sweating LMAO.""Y/N LOOKS GUILTY ASF."

After a long, agonizing pause, Lando finally raises his hands, one noticeably slower than the other. Max absolutely loses it.

"YOU NASTY LITTLE FUCK!" he cackles, pointing accusingly.

"Oh come on Max it was just on her bo—"

"Lando!" Y/N shouts and hides their face in her hoodie, and chat is now 100% convinced they just witnessed history.

Max: 1 | Lando: -100 | Y/N: Applying for Witness Protection

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Sim-sanity

Lando and Y/N glances behind them as Max walks into the room, a couple of bags of food in hand, his face a mix of annoyance and hunger.

"You two should just throw your phones away, I've been trying to call you for an hour" Max grumbles, shaking his head as he drops the bags onto the table.

Y/N smirks, grabbing one of the bags. "Hello to you too, grumpy." She starts pulling out boxes of food, her attention split between Max and the chaos on Lando's screen.

Lando, who’s completely absorbed in his game, glances up just long enough to acknowledge Max. "Oh you're here"

Max eyes the screen, raising an eyebrow. "Oh nice, Y/N, you're finally sharing your Sims with the stream?"

Y/N rolls her eyes but keeps pulling food out of the bag, clearly not impressed. "That's Lando's Sim. I was supposed to play, but he hogged it."

Max laughs as he leans in, squinting at the characters on the screen. "Mate, is that you and Y/N? Hold up, they actually look like you two. It's kinda freaky..."

Lando grins, still not taking his eyes off the game. "Yeah, I found a pre-made version of me and spent hours making Y/N."

Y/N shrugs as she digs into her food, rolling her eyes again. "He wouldn’t even let me play. Spent hours on it and wouldn't let me touch it."

Lando, not missing a beat, taps his mic as if it’s a casual question. "Chat—should we hire a nanny for Livie or should I quit my job and stay home?"

Max freezes. "Who the hell is Livie?"

"Our kid, Max," Lando says, looking at him as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "Keep up."

Y/N looks at Max, nodding seriously. "Yeah, we’ve got two kids now."

Lando, eyes glued to the screen, clicks furiously as he navigates through the Sims world, completely absorbed in his virtual family.

Y/N and Max exchange amused glances, trying not to laugh at how seriously he’s taking the game.

"Kind of concerning how invested he is in this," Max says, his voice low, as he watches Lando’s furrowed brow. "He doesn’t even play VR golf with this much concentration."

Y/N, chuckling under her breath, leans back in her chair, shaking her head. "Oh, Max, no. He’s really invested. Don’t let the quiet fool you—he’s planning their whole life. I'm pretty sure our Sims' kids are more organized than we are."

Lando leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied grin. "Alright, baby, Livie’s grown enough, and Sim me just quit his job. Time to woohoo for our third baby," he says nonchalantly, his fingers still hovering over the keyboard as if he’s casually discussing his grocery list.

"You're mental"

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swiftthistletea · 11 months ago

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publishers will talk about representation and "#OwnVoices" and push books about gay theatre kid humor teifling pirates having queer gay sex written by a woman from Massachusetts with a gummy smile who calls herself a "Disaster Bisexual" on twitter and women will read the books and write rave reviews on goodreads about how it was so refreshing to see good queer representation and how much they squee'd and fangirled so hard when gay pirate 1 called gay pirate 2 "his silly stinky little guy" that they woke up their husband. and people will say that if you read these books youre a morally good person and the Trumpers Will Not Win and then other women will comment about how the books about gay pirate buttsex between two "feral unhinged germlin mode queers" are the only things keeping them from killing themselves and making their family watch. and then you will go to half price books and see the gay pirate book front and center on a display for 8 months and there will always be two women standing around it talking very loudly about BTS and House of the Dragon and then after the trend dies down 18 copies of the book will take up half a shelf in the sci-fi/fantasy section and they will never move and it will just be like that for years and its all because another #OwnVoices cozy historical romantasy came out but this time its about fantasyworld Tibetan Monks having gay sex on Not Mount Everest and the whole cycle repeats again but this time with publications and goodreads articles talking about "timely" conversations about race and queer identity. but this time it will be shortly lived because it will come out that Jenny Luizou the author of the monk gay sex book is actually another Massachusetts woman with a too gummy smile and is actually not a nonbinary bipoc Chinese person from Kazakhstan but everyone should have known this anyway because she calls herself a "disaster bisexual" on twitter sometimes. the pirate gay sex book is still taking up half a shelf during all this

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dior-luxury · 13 days ago

Note

if it's alright could you please do togame, nirei and natori pining hcs? specifically with a more physically clingy reader! was rlly surprised that no one's requested any windbreaker stuff yet

How'd They Pin After You

( ✧ ) ────── crush stories . fluff - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] togame . nirei . natori

- [𝐩:𝐬] Slow burn . Mutual pining . Emotional vulnerability . Emotional intensity . Light possessiveness (esp. Jo and Shingo) . Touching/Physical clinginess . Jealousy (Shingo, mildly)

Note: My first windbreaker request, yay! (๑>◡<๑) Hopefully I captured all of their personalities right and it's not too crazy.

Jo Togame

He pines like it’s a secret, like it’s something sacred. The way monks guard temples, the way wolves guard dens—silent, fierce, unwavering.

At first, he doesn’t understand what’s happening. He just notices that when you’re around, his chest feels tight. That your laugh cuts through the noise of the world. That he’s watching you too long. That your name feels like a prayer he doesn’t dare say out loud.

Jo is the kind of guy who’s hard to read. He won’t flirt. He won’t joke. But he will notice everything. If you’re cold, he’ll take off his jacket and hand it to you, wordless. If you’re tired, he’ll tilt his head in quiet invitation to rest on his shoulder. If you’re in danger? He’s the first one in front of you.

He starts showing up everywhere. Quietly. Consistently. Like a shadow that wants to be your sun. He’ll wait for you outside school even if you didn’t ask. Will walk behind you, matching your pace, making sure you’re safe.

Jo doesn’t speak much—but when he does, and it’s to you? It’s like gravity shifts.

“You shouldn’t walk home alone.” “You look exhausted. Go home. I’ll cover for you.” “Don’t waste your smile on people who don’t deserve it.”

His version of pining is protection. Devotion. He won’t say “I like you,” but his actions scream it—every second.

And here’s the plot twist: he’s physically clingy too, but he does it in a way that’s incredibly intense and tender at the same time. He doesn’t reach for you unless it’s important. But when he does—your wrist, your waist, your fingers—he holds on like you’re going to disappear.

One day, you trip on a curb. He catches you. Doesn’t let go.

You look up at him and say, “Thanks.”

And he says, “I won’t let you fall.”

He means it metaphorically. He always does.

He pines through silence, through long stares when you’re not looking, through walking you home and pausing outside your door like he wants to say something but never quite does. Until one day, he just says:

“Tell me what you need. I’ll be there.”

Because loving you hurts for him—but not loving you would hurt more.

Akihiko Nirei

This boy falls hard and fast. He’s not subtle about it either—when he likes you, everyone knows it. Not because he blurts it out, but because his entire soul lights up like it’s springtime every time you’re near.

At first, he’s just happy to be around you. It starts with casual hangs—sitting beside you during breaks, offering you bites of his bento (“You’ve got to try this karaage! My mom made it—don’t worry, I didn’t mess it up!”), or pulling you into random group chats with the guys. He wants to include you in every piece of his life.

But soon, it gets deeper. Nirei starts noticing the tiny things: how you laugh with your eyes before your mouth catches up, how you always forget your umbrella, how you zone out when you’re overwhelmed. He starts carrying extras—extra pen, extra snacks, extra umbrella—just in case. But he’ll always act like it’s a coincidence.

“Oh, you forgot your lunch? Haha, I totally brought too much—take some!”

Every time you’re near, his voice is a little louder, his smile a little wider. But when you leave? He stares after you like you’re carrying half his heart with you.

He pines in daydreams. Like, he’ll stare out the window during class imagining what it’d be like to walk you home while the cherry blossoms fall. He replays your texts over and over, trying to find hidden meanings. Sometimes he even types up fake conversations with you just to practice what he’d say.

And oh, he’s the physically clingy one. Very. But it doesn’t feel heavy—it feels warm. Natural. He’s always slinging an arm around your shoulders like it’s no big deal. Pulling you into side hugs when you’re sad. Tugging your wrist when he wants you to come look at something cool. He’s always touching you, and when you’re not around, he kinda... slumps a little.

He pines out loud too. To everyone except you. Like he’ll be walking with Sakura and just sigh, “Man, [Your Name] looked so cool today…” and Sakura’s like, “JUST TELL THEM.” And he’s like, “What if they don’t like me back? What if I make it weird?”

Because here’s the thing about Nirei—he cherishes you so much, he’s afraid of ruining it. So he just keeps giving, hoping you’ll notice. Hoping you’ll choose him, not because he asked, but because you see him the way he sees you.

One day, if you fall asleep beside him on the train? He’ll sit perfectly still the whole ride, afraid to wake you, memorizing the weight of your head on his shoulder like it’s the most important moment of his life.

Shingo Natori

Shingo’s the kind of guy who teases his crush, but in that soft but sneaky way. He’s usually confident with his boys, loud in a chill kind of way, always down for fun, but when you’re around? His rhythm changes.

At first, you wouldn’t even suspect anything. He still jokes, still calls you weird nicknames (“oi, sleepyhead,” “shorty,” even if you're taller), still acts like the clown of the group—but there’s a difference in the pauses. Like the way he watches you laugh from across the courtyard and grins to himself like an idiot, then quickly looks away when someone catches him.

He pines quietly. Like when you’re talking to someone else—especially another guy—he’ll suddenly start appearing at your side with a casual, “Yo, didn’t know you were out here,” even though he definitely spotted you from across the school yard. He’ll never outright admit he’s jealous, but his jokes get more pointed, his smile a little tighter.

He starts “bumping into you” more. Like at the konbini late at night, after cram school. “Didn’t know you liked melonpan too. Must be fate, huh?” Cue him walking you home and low-key memorizing every detail of your route. Every light post. Every place you pause.

But where Shingo really pines is in his bedroom. Late at night, lying in bed with his phone in hand, staring at your Instagram stories. He doesn’t like anything—not yet—but he watches them over and over. Sometimes he types out a DM and deletes it before sending. He doesn’t want to come off too eager.

He doodles your name on the edge of his notebook pages. Acts like it’s a joke if someone sees. But if you ever sit next to him during lunch or in class? He becomes a little too still. Hyper-aware of your elbow barely brushing his. And if you lean in, accidentally touching his shoulder to show him your phone screen?

He goes completely still. Doesn’t even breathe. But his heart’s hammering like he just ran a 100-meter dash.

Eventually, he starts leaving little things in your locker. A can of your favorite drink. A note that says, “Don’t be late to gym again or I’m draggin’ you.” No name. But you know it’s him. And he wants you to know.

He’s the kind of piner who turns friendship into slow-burning obsession, and every moment he spends around you feels like a page in a diary he’d never admit he writes.

#𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐑-𝐋𝐔𝐗𝐔𝐑𝐘 #windbreaker x reader #windbreaker scenarios #windbreaker headcanon #windbreaker imagines #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker x you #wind breaker x y/n #wind breaker headcanons #wind breaker imagines #wind breaker scenarios #togame x reader #togame jo x reader #togame jo x you #nirei x reader #nirei akihiko x reader #natori shingo x reader

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cherrixpie · 3 months ago

Text

NEMESIS

part five of six (surprise :3)

↬ you were supposed to steer clear of mattheo riddle. Shame that he was just so irrestible.

↬ sfw; wc: 10.0k (i saw this coming); cw: violence, blood, broken bones, swear words; tags: gryffindor!reader, muggleborn!reader, enemies to lovers

( masterlist )

Dorothy Dankworth had been a chatterbox even when she was alive. Since her portrait had adopted her most prominent trait, she was the main source of gossip and information for the portraits all over the castle. The moment she saw the Chosen One’s close, muggleborn friend and the Dark Lord’s son tucked away in her forgotten chamber, giggling like co-conspirators and the indecent kiss on the cheek they would have been publicly shunned for in Dorothy’s lifetime, she knew she'd stumbled upon something scandalous. As soon as the Riddle boy had closed the door behind him with a last look through the room, she sprung up from her seat and left her frame, her painted skirts swishing in her wake.

The next two dozen hours, she spent flitting through portrait after portrait, relaying the story to anyone willing to listen. From the stern witches of the Transfiguration corridor to the rowdy group of drunken monks down near the kitchens, Dorothy's story evolved with each telling, peppered with more detail and insinuation until it was less about a tutoring lessons and more about a scandalous romance. By the next evening, gossip had spread around the portraits until even up at the Gryffindor tower, a certain portrait caught wind of the story. And she'd never been one to keep news to herself either.

Blissfully unaware of the storm brewing, you left your shift at the Hospital Wing that evening, joining the crowds of students flooding towards the Great Hall for dinner. Your hands were still stinging from the way you'd poked yourself with the needle due to your lack of concentration. The previous night kept replaying in your mind, especially Mattheo’s kiss on your cheek, the sensation of his surprisingly soft lips. In your memory, it was a confused whirlwind of laughter, his infuriatingly beautiful eyes and the Smiths playing in the background.

As any time you'd find yourself in a crowd these days, you subtly turned your head, on the lookout for a certain Slytherin with brown curls. You did manage to spot him, strolling along with his friends and a toothpick dangling from his lips in place of the usual cigarette. He was staring straight ahead as Malfoy talked animatedly beside him. When you passed them, you distinctly made out the words “Potter with his perfect flying and his perfect scar-”.

Spontaneously, you flashed him a little smile over your shoulder, and for the split of a second, your eyes met and his crinkled with amusement. But before someone could detect your silent exchange, you hastened your step and left them behind, Malfoy's voice still drawling, but being drowned out more and more as you approached the hall alongside a wave of Ravenclaws.

When you stepped into the Entrance Hall, where students were steadily accumulating, you glanced around for your friends and caught sight of Harry, Ron and Hermoine walking down the stone stairs to Gryffindor tower, engaged in lively conversation. Hermoine seemed to be talking to Ron insistently as she gesticulated wildly, Harry’s gaze flickered from one to the other and Ron looked like he was plotting a murder, fists clenched and staring ahead darkly. His cheeks were almost as red as his hair, seemingly burning with indignation. Thinking it was just another petty argument between him and Hermoine, you waved at them and Ron spotted you first. But instead of lighting up or waving back, his gaze turned only more sinister. He nudged the others and then made a beeline towards you, Harry and Hermoine struggling to keep up and exchanging worried looks.

Clutching your book bag, you froze in place and watched them approach with widened eyes, students moving around you but you didn't really see them. What on earth could this be about? It couldn't be…? Ron pushed through a gaggle of third year Hufflepuffs before coming to a halt before you, breathing unevenly and outright furious. “Tell me it's a lie. Please, tell me it's not true,” he growled with balled fists and you stared up at him with wide eyes, completely perplexed, maybe because you didn't want to think, didn't want to imagine that they'd found out about you and their worst enemy sneaking off together in secret.

“Ron what are you even talking about?” You asked, nervously, and took a step back. Out of your peripheral vision, you could make out several heads near you turning towards the scene Ron was causing with his shouting. Ron's frown only deepened and he didn't reciprocate your anxious little smile. “We heard something from the fat lady- something I really, really don't want to believe about you.”

“What are you even saying?” You exclaimed, an edge of desperation in your tone, and you glanced around nervously. To your horror, you caught a glimpse of green near the doors, meaning that the first of the procession from the dungeons must've reached the entrance hall. You could only pray Mattheo was still trailing behind his friends.

“Don't act stupid!” Ron exclaimed angrily, throwing his hands into the air. You threw a helpless look at the other two, somehow still hoping this was some sort of prank. But Hermoine looked at you very seriously and Harry’s eyes had narrowed, and neither of them held Ron back when he roared: “Please tell me you're not fucking Mattheo Riddle!”

“What?!” you spluttered in indignation and glanced around nervously to see how many people had heard him. “What the hell, Ron, I’d never-” You fell silent. You would, probably. But, you reminded yourself stubbornly, you hadn't. “Where did you hear that? Who said I-?”

“The portrait of Dorothy Dankworth saw you together,” Ron pressed, carefully watching your reaction. “The fat lady told us some interesting things about your little meetup with Riddle.” He spat out the name as if it was poisonous and you felt a pinch of anger in your chest.

“You're going to trust the fat lady with information?” you bit back and folded your arms over your chest defiantly, but Ron was undeterred. “Well, then, deny it!”

That shut you up effectively. If you lied to them now and they'd find out anyway, you would lose their trust indefinitely. And you also didn't want to lie to your friends, but their reaction was just like you'd imagined. You let out a deep breath and squared your shoulders as if that would protect you against their scrutiny. It wasn't like you didn't understand why they were angry. They didn't know him like you did. They didn't know he could be funny, kind, caring, passionate and, most of all, nothing like his father.

“I did meet him,” you said, fighting to keep your voice composed as Ron did an indignant intake of air and Hermoine's frown deepened. “But it wasn't like that. I'm-,” you hesitated for a split second, but Harry's eyes narrowed further nonetheless, “I'm tutoring him in muggle studies.”

“You're tutoring him?” Ron roared as if you'd just confessed to killing his grandma, “Are you stupid?!” You recoiled slightly at his harsh tone and shame rose in you when you realized half the hall had stopped talking and was looking over at Ron, who was fuming with outrage. “Have you lost your bloody mind? Tutoring Riddle? You're cozying up to a death eater in the making!” As you opened your mouth to reply, Ron cut you off. “How long has this been going on? Huh? Weeks? Months?”

“He asked me after the quidditch game,” you replied with an honesty your friends couldn't appreciate. “You mean right after he tried to kill Harry with that bludger?” asked Hermoine, appalled, and you frowned defensively. “He didn't try to kill him, don't be ridiculous.”

“Don't you even think of defending him!” Ron called, oblivious to the turning heads. “Don't you get it? He knows that you're close to Harry, he's just planning to get closer to him and you're letting him! Just because he's pretty!” Hermoine tugged at his sleeve to get him to consider the crowd, but Ron's remedy to talking himself into a rage. You were frozen in place, unable to move or defend yourself. It was horrible, what he threw at you, so horrible you couldn't even find the words to reply. Though you knew they'd not take kindly and you understood them well, you'd never have thought you'd one day be scared of Ron. “He's you-know-who’s son,” he bellowed, “And you're throwing yourself at him!”

“I'm not!” you exclaimed, but it sounded more like a plea than anything else. “And he's not using me, I'm just tutoring him, I swear!” Remembering his words, a hint of anger finally crept into your tone. “And he's not his father, he's nothing like him!”

Suddenly, you caught a movement out of the corner of your eyes. It was so small, and should have disappeared into those of the crowd, but somehow, you were drawn to it, as if it had been highlighted by a stage light. Your heart sank. It was Mattheo, behind him his group of Slytherin friends. He was standing at the edge of the crowd, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your stomach drop. His jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might snap, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides, barely restrained fury radiating off of him.

There was a dangerous edge to his stance, the kind of tension that promised violence if someone as much as breathed the wrong way. You could see the way his gaze now darted between Harry and Ron, as if calculating how quickly he could get to the latter and shut him up for good. And yet, beneath the storm of anger, you thought you could make out something else- something almost protective- that made your already racing heart pound only faster against your ribcage, though you couldn't decide whether it was in fear or something more … complicated.

When you locked eyes with him, you shook your head pleadingly, and to your utter surprise, the hand that had been wandering to his wand halted. You'd never seen him look so serious as when he now raised a brow at you, that had your breath caught up in your throat. He was waiting for your signal, your permission- even though Ron said all these horrible things about him. When you shook your head subtly, he took a small step back, though still glaring at Ron and vigilant.

“Can't you hear yourself?” Harry chimed in, hands balled into fists also. Hermoine, who seemed to get increasingly embarrassed by all the attention, tried to tug them towards the Great Hall, but he fended her off and looked at you angrily. “He's already manipulating you, you can't trust him!”

“His father’s you-know-who, for Merlin's sake,” Ron spat, “Do you need it spelled out for you? You're so naive if you think he's different. You're muggleborn, he'd probably kill you without even fucking blinking the moment he has the chance!” You threw a nervous glance back at Mattheo, but his features seemed set in stone, unmovable, as he stared at Ron. Berkshire’s hand hovered over his shoulder, as if he was just waiting for him to snap and to have to hold him back from launching at Ron, but Mattheo showed no signs of attack except for his predatory stance. His friend’s eyes flickered towards you quickly and you looked away. “You have no idea what you're talking about!” you said, glaring and holding onto your bag for support, as if his next words would roll over you and bring you down like a storm. And they did.

With a humorless laugh, Ron balled his fists and stepped closer to you. “You're smarter than this- or at least I thought you were. But clearly, you'll believe anything as long as he says it with that stupid smirk of his! You're so fucking naive, risking everything-our trust, your safety-for some slimy Slytherin who probably laughs about you behind your back!”

His words hit you like a gut punch. They were designed to hurt, by someone you trusted taking advantage of your insecurities. Your hands started to shake and you gripped your handle tighter, willing yourself not to cry, not now, not here, not with everyone watching. You opened your mouth to speak, to defend yourself or him, but only a broken little noise emerged from your throat. Your defense seemed to fall from your lips and shatter like glass on the cold stone of the floor, right between you and the friend you'd trusted to never hurt you like this.

When the tears came, they were inevitable, burning in your eyes and finally slipping past your crumbling barrier. Embarrassment washed over you and you tried to wipe them off with a shaky hand, but it was in vain as now, as if a dam had broken. More tears emerged from your eyes and streaked down your cheeks as you suppressed the sobs with all your might. In front of you, Ron's chest stopped heaving suddenly, as if he had just sobered up from a moment of drunken madness, and you saw a hint of regret in his eyes. But, when he stepped closer, you took an instinctive step back. However, Ron didn't get the chance to say anything further, because the sudden sound of someone clapping pierced through the dense, tension-heavy air like a knife.

Mattheo's entire body tensed when he saw the tears stream down your face, saw your lower lip wobble, your wide, vulnerable eyes and your shoulders trembling under the weight of Weasley’s cruel words. Everything but a stranger to rage and violence, he'd only ever felt it on his behalf, or towards himself. This was new. It was like a switch flipped in his mind, an overwhelming roar thrumming against his ears and drowning out everything except the image of you breaking right in front of him. Fury coursed through his veins, hot and all-consuming, but beneath the rage, there was something that caught him off guard- an ache he couldn't name, sharp and suffocating, digging into his chest like a knife.

He hated seeing you like this, hated the way your pain seemed to ripple through you, almost hated you for making him feel as if he was falling apart with you. But he was. Seeing you cry set his every nerve on fire. How fucking dare Weasley make you feel like this? His hands curled and uncurled to fists so hard his nails dug into his palms, the raw sting being the only thing grounding him just enough to keep from charging through the onlookers immediately. But with every second he watched you recoil into yourself with hurt and shame, it became harder to hold back. He didn't even realize he was already approaching you, a low growl rumbling in his throat as his fury trembled just below his breaking point. No one made you cry- especially not some self-righteous Gryffindor.

As you whirled your head around, just like every single person in the hall, you saw Mattheo emerge from their midst, clapping his hands together. His fury was visible in his tense shoulder as and clenched jaw, barely contained and moments away from exploding. He sauntered towards Ron, a sly grin on his lips as he watched him up and down. Ron, reacting wisely, took a step back, his eyes flickering from Riddle’s wand-less hands to his face with hardly contained nervousness. “Congratulations, Weasley,” Mattheo grinned menacingly, his dark eyes glinting like ignited matches about to meet oil. “You just won yourself a prize.”

Then, Mattheo did the most curious thing- he stepped closer to Ron, so there was barely any room left, closing up on him as Ron inched back, and with an almost crazy, humorless grin, patted his cheek softly. Then, within the split of a second, he brought his arm back and his fist met Ron's jaw with a resounding crack. As Ron stumbled back, Mattheo grabbed his collar, kicked his shin and brought him to his knees. One hand held his head in place as he slammed his fist down on it again and again.

Drops of blood flew through the air and every hit produced a disgusting squelching sound as Ron roared in pain, grabbed Mattheo around the waist and attempted to slam him to the ground. But it was to no avail, as the latter spat in his face and launched himself towards Ron once more, making him feel every little bit of the hurt he'd caused you. Mattheo's head was thrumming with a mix of fury and the adrenaline-induced excitement of a good fight, but it was neither that made him ram his fists into every bit of Ron he could reach over and over again.

The image of you flashed before his eyes, of you crying, of you shaking. If he were the himself of a few months ago, he'd have scoffed at your weakness, called it pathetic. But now, nothing could equal the rage he felt seeing you hurt. When Weasley managed the occasional blow to his face, he didn't even register the pain, his mind taken over by a mindless need to punish him for making you cry. And any bit of pain he'd feel later as his knuckles cracked and bled, as Ron's fist met his jaw and nose and his own blood dropped down on the ginger beneath him, it would be deserved. Deep down, he knew it was his fault, maybe he even knew he was making it worse. But he didn't care, his mind overtaken by a sudden burst of hatred.

You stood, frozen, unable to move, as the crowd screamed, horrified, and the squelches of blood filled the air. Mattheo was punching Ron in silent concentration, it seemed, and he looked wild as a beast. His beautiful curls hung from his face as he caughed up blood and kicked and hit Ron without any care for defending himself, or shielding himself. You had to stop this, you were vaguely aware that this had to be your fault, but you couldn't, you were rooted to the spot as if you'd been hexed into immobilization.

Finally, the crowd burst apart as Professor McGonnagall and Professor Snape approached, alerted by the noisy onlookers. Nott, who hadn't moved in, either to help Mattheo or to break up the fight, now surged forward when he saw them and ripped Mattheo off of Ron forcefully, their fellow Slytherin's aiding him as they pulled Mattheo away from Ron, who was heaving and whimpering, his face a bloody mess. Mattheo, though looking far better off, had blood seeping down his face as well, struggling against his friend’s hold wildly.

Not even Theo’s harsh reminders of the Professor’s presence could clear the blood-red fog in Mattheo's head, clouding all reasonable thought. Oh, how ecstatic he felt when he could let someone pay for this fucking world, and how much better it felt to make someone pay for hurting you. But, unlike usual, his anger didn't subside when he saw the recipient of his wrath lay broken and bleeding on the ground. Hate pulsed through him in violent surges, even as Theo’s hands dug into his arms and his hissed warnings fell on deaf ears. Nothing could get through to him- until he saw you.

Still clutching your back, you stood rooted to your spot, eyes locked onto Ron’s coughing and bleeding figure. They were widened in horror, your shoulders raised in apprehension. Your shaken look washed over him like a tidal wave and sobered him up just as effectively. Mattheo stopped trashing against his friends’ hold, unable to do anything but stare at your widened eyes as dread and regret submerged him into their depths, making him unable to breathe or to think, suffocated by the weight of the realization what he'd done. He'd made you afraid of him. In your eyes, he had to have confirmed all your friends’ warnings.

Finally, you were able to tear your eyes away from Ron and frantically searched the crowd for Mattheo, spotting his bloody figure being dragged away by the combined efforts of his friends. When they emerged from the crowd, Mattheo seemed to snap out of some sort of fever and pushed Nott off of him. Without looking at you, he took off towards the entry gates and students burst out of his way, scrambling to not stand in his path. With a resounding pound, he pushed open the gates and slammed them shut behind him.

Mattheo had barely ever felt worse than he did right now. Scratch that, he had never felt worse. Not when he'd been tortured by his father, not when he'd almost suffered death at the hands of his mother. What did he have to lose then? The cold night air hit his skin and made his scratches sting aggressively, but he made no efforts to heal them. He knew he deserved the pain. A cruel sort of satisfaction pulsed through him as he pressed down on the cut near his jaw, until the image of you flashed through his mind, how you’d stitched up his wound after the quidditch game.

But you weren't here now, he reminded himself. He'd scared you away, he'd lost you, just like all the good he'd ever had in his life, he didn't deserve you. You were right to be horrified, yet, the bitterness consumed him. How could he ever have hoped to be worthy of you? He tried to drown out the memory of you frowning at his smoking after the quidditch game and drew a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket. His hands were trembling, for some reason, covered in blood and barely managing to pull out a cigarette and lighting it with a flick of his wrist.

Putting the burning smoke between his lips, he took a drag of it and the momentary relief flooded his mind. Though his bleeding lip stung in protest, he took another drag and breathed in the smoke. With uneasy steps, he walked down the stairs to the entrance hall until its golden light had given way to nightly darkness and he slumped down on one of the steps, taking continuous drags out of the cigarette. Self-loathing burned through him as he stared into the darkness. Why did he have to destroy everything that was good and kind in his cruel world?

When the sound of steps met his ears, he could have growled in frustration, until he realized that the steps were far too light and hesitant to be Theo’s. For a second he considered Pansy, but he knew who it was, really. You'd come, and he wished you hadn't. He wished he wouldn't have to look you in the eye and see the inevitable accusation, consequence of his stupidity. You'd been right there. Why couldn't he have waited to get Weasley somewhere you wouldn't see? Somewhere you wouldn't be, so you'd never know what kind of monster you'd been defending. No, he truly didn't deserve you.

The footsteps came to a halt a step back, but Mattheo didn't turn his head. He was a coward. All he could do was stare at the burning ember between his fingers as you took another step and sat down next to him on the stairs. You didn't speak, but Mattheo wished you would scream at him, so that he could dismiss you as just another person who hated him. But your silent accusation was much, much worse. The longer it went on, the more Mattheo’s head thrummed with the added pain of the bruises and cuts against the cool night air, until he couldn't take it anymore.

“You don't have to say it,” Mattheo's voice cut through the cold air in between you, loaded up with simmering tension. “If you're just here to yell at me, know that I've heard it all and just go.” Surprised, you turned to look at him, taking him all in. His curls hung into his eyes in a way that made you want to brush them away. But even if it'd been appropriate, you wouldn't have wanted to hurt the bleeding cut on his temple further. A burning cigarette dangled off his lips and his hands, covered in blood, wrung in his lap.

“Why did you do it?” you asked quietly, not moving an inch. The scene that had just taken place seemed to cling to you both, making you unable to face each other. Your thoughts were scattered and unfocused, still hurting from Ron’s words and caught in a whirlwind of concern for both of the boys. McGonnagall had started dragging Ron, who was unable to walk, to the hospital wing, but Mattheo's injuries had stayed unattended to. You felt the strong desire to reach over, take his hands into yours and treat his cuts and bruises, but you knew he wouldn't let you. When you glanced over, you caught him pressing down on one of his cuts, making more blood seep from it, down, get caught up in his brow. Following the drop of blood with your eyes, they suddenly fell onto his.

Mattheo hadn't intended to defend himself. Attempting to defend himself would open him up to rejection of his desperate plea for you to understand, to forgive, to card your soft and unsullied hands through his hair and tell him that everything was going to be alright. Stupid daydreams, fucking delusions, yet he couldn't help the words that fell from his lips when he locked eyes with you and his self-loathing was overpowered by a sudden surge of fear, to see the same look of disgust and horror on your face that he had been getting ever since he set foot in the school. “I saw you cry and everything just… disappeared.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, but there was no malice in your expression. Of course there wasn't. Because you were a fucking angel. Next to you, he was a greedy demon. “Wait,” you said, your voice somewhat softer than before, and leaned closer. Mattheo wished you hadn't, because the way your eyes glinted up close reminded him of that fateful night in the kitchens. You looked just as pretty now, only that he was now willing to admit it to himself. “You beat him up for … me?”

Mattheo shrugged roughly and looked away from you to take another drag out of his cigarette. The smoke emerged from his lips in fascinating shapes that your eyes clung to as he answered. “‘Course, what did you think?” Your gaze dropped to your hands as you played with your fingers, deep in thought. You had just assumed it had been Ron’s comments about Mattheo that had set him off, but he sounded too blunt to be dishonest. Per usual.

“Well,” you said hesitantly and stealing another glance at him. “He said some pretty awful things about you as well.”

Mattheo looked up in surprise, but when he met your gaze, his jaw clenched. Of course, you'd think of him, even after what he'd done to Weasley. Your eyes were sharp and steady, but when you shifted closer to him, he could practically feel the warmth radiating off of your body. “But he was right,” he said roughly and squashed out his cigarette. Glowing embers floated towards the ground and melted the snow where they landed.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly, and he refused to look at you. “I didn't need tutoring in muggle studies. I just wanted to take advantage of your kindness and be able to have you to myself more often.” His monotone voice couldn't betray the storm brewing in his chest. You needed to know, for some reason, you needed to know. He had to come clean now, he wanted to watch your face fall as he tore apart the image you had of him so you'd finally stop looking at him with these wide, good eyes that looked so unfairly beautiful.

Your heart beat hard against your ribs as you processed his words. Why did he want you to himself more often? Had the kiss on the cheek last night meant anything more than friendship? Doubt and excitement curled in your stomach. Could Mattheo Riddle really like you like that? You'd never really been someone’s priority, yet, tonight, he'd fought Ron for you. Not that you condoned his behavior. “Why did you want me all to yourself?” you finally dared to ask, your voice shaking slightly.

Mattheo didn't answer, only taking another cigarette out of his pack and igniting it via wandless magic. You guessed it was the stress paired with the need to do something with his hands, the last one you could emphasize with. Because you didn't smoke, your fingers fiddled absentmindedly with your school skirt until they closed around the hem in a decisive manner. Thankfully, your voice was steady when you addressed him once more. “You do know, though, don't you?” you asked, attempting to meet his gaze. “That I don't see you like Ron does.”

A bitter chuckle left his lips, along with another curl of smoke that danced in the air between you, as if it was mocking you. When he spoke, his voice was hard and closed off, allowing no room for discussion. “Didn't I just prove him right?” It was technically a question, but he seemed to have decided the matter already, which made an unsuspected surge of anger flare up in you.

“No!” you said, louder than you'd intended, and your raised voice finally seemed to shake him up enough to bring himself to look at you. Your heart seized when you realized he'd averted his eyes because they were glistening traitorously. You reached over to grab his hand, it was slimy with blood, but you didn't care. To your relief, Mattheo seemed too stunned by your touch to say something. “You're nothing like your father,” you said, emphasizing each word in a desperate attempt to convey what you thought of him, to correct whatever he believed you to think. “You're nothing like him,” you said again, gaze never so much as wavering.

Another small, humorless laugh filled the air as he swayed his head lightly, a bitter smile on his bleeding lips. He took another drag off the cigarette before taking it out of his mouth and blowing the smoke out softly, so it mingled and curled between the two of you, like a wall, or a blanket to hide himself under. Through the fog, you could still see the light shimmer in his dark eyes. “Darling, you just watched me beat your friend half to death,” he drawled, ironically, and turned from you once more when the smoke had subsided.

His bitterness and unwillingness to listen sparked defiance in you and you shuffled even closer to force him to look at you. “I never said you didn't have issues, darling,” you replied, matching his sarcasm. Mattheo laughed again, but this time, it was a genuine sort of chuckle he himself seemed surprised by. Suddenly, he winced lightly and another drop of blood emerged from his busted lip.

Almost instinctively, you reached over and wiped over his cheek to brush it away. One hand slipped into your inner jacket pocket as you pulled out the flask of murtlap juice you always carried around with you, just in case. Dabbing some onto your finger, you leaned even closer to him and softly ran your fingers over his lip, his cheek, his bruises and cuts. You felt him watching you when suddenly, he seized your waist and pulled you closer, making you gasp in surprise.

Mattheo couldn't believe it. Here you were, fretting over him, your brows furrowed in worry. Here you were, healing his scratches, when you should have been screaming, or crying, or coldly bidding him goodbye. As your hand ran over his cheek and threatened to reach the deepest gash, his hands seized either sides of your waist as if by instinct. The adorable little gasp it elicited to you was music to his undeserving ears, he hated the way he reveled in it. His thumbs brushed over your sides selfishly as he leaned closer and basked in the invisible light you spread. “Do you really think that?”

“I know it,” you said, softly now that you had finally reached him. You brushed off the remaining murtlap essence on your skirt and hesitantly cupped his cheeks with your hands. It felt strange to touch him, as if you were breaching museum guidelines by touching their marble statues. Statues higher than any living man who might have inspired them. “I used to think otherwise,” you confessed, unable to hide the tenderness in your voice, “but not anymore. I used to think you were all hard edges and cold ice, I once thought you couldn't feel pain, couldn't feel anything, really. But I know you now, and I know that I was wrong about you. Because the man I know can be kind and funny and so unlike what I thought he was.” A light frown adorned your face. “Mattheo, why do you keep pressing on that cut?”

He didn't have to say, because you knew, of course you did. Biting down on your lip, you searched his face for some sign to either stop or continue, but you couldn't find one. “Listen to me, Mattheo,” you said urgently, “you're not who they always told you you were.” You hadn't meant for your voice to drop to a murmur, and now it was like whispering secrets in class, unveiling hidden truths under the watchful eye of your worlds.

To your shock, you suddenly felt him tremble slightly under your touch and your eyes widened. Mattheo seemed to be suppressing the shaking of his shoulders, but his body twitched with suppressed emotion. Acting purely off of instinct, you surged forward and wrapped your arms around him.

The moment your arms wrapped around him, Mattheo froze, his breath catching as if all air had been knocked out of his lungs. He wasn't used to this- this kind of warmth, this kind of comfort, especially when he felt he didn't deserve it. For a good second, he didn't move, afraid that if he even breathed too hard, the fantasy would shatter, you'd pull away and leave him with the hollow ache he'd been carrying ever since he stormed out of the entrance hall. But then, as he felt your warm breath against his temple, as if it was living proof that he wasn't merely imagining things, or living through one of his fathers cruel nightmares, he caved in.

Slowly, Mattheo let himself sink into the embrace, his shoulders sagging as the tension seemed to bleed out of him. The blood from his face and hands tainted your white shirt, but you didn't seem to care, only softly stroking over his back in soothing patterns. You were good at this, too good. You surely had given, and had been given, many hugs in your life, you were an expert. His own hands hovered awkwardly at first as he became aware of the fact that he'd never actually been hugged like this. An irrational surge of panic flooded through him that he couldn't do it, didn't know how to return the gesture, that he couldn't hug you. But then, he hesitantly placed them on your back, suddenly clinging to you as if you were the only thing grounding him and keeping him from falling apart entirely.

Your touch softened the storm raging and roaring inside of him, but it also brought a lump to his throat that he couldn't swallow down. Because he couldn't help but think you deserved someone who knew how to give hugs.

“I'm not gonna go,” you said in a low voice, remembering how he’d dismissed you earlier, and felt him almost shudder under your touch. You couldn't quite grasp that you were hugging Mattheo Riddle, and he was hugging you back as if you were his lifeline, more so grabbing you than anything else, movements uncertain as if he wasn't quite sure what to do.

“You won't?” he suddenly whispered and you nodded your head as you ran a hand through his curls. God, how you had long dreamed of doing that. “Promise,” you said softly as you carded the strands through your fingers and drew patterns on his scalp.

He suddenly stirred, his hands fell from your back and down to your sides as they found your waist once more. With a careful but firm motion, he moved you onto the step next to him and turned to face you, a serious expression on his bloodied face. His dark eyes were almost glaring, though not at you, and he howered so close to you that you could feel his hot breath on your cheeks and, even in the dark, could see the golden sprinkles in his eyes. Your heart was beating so loudly you were surprised he didn't hear it, or maybe he did and didn't mention it. Was it the adrenaline of the fight acting, or just his usual flirtatiousness? Somehow, you thought it was neither.

“You know that I'd never hurt you, right?” he asked gravely, brows furrowed over his dark eyes. He'd never looked this beautiful before, in spite of the blood and the bruises.

“Yes,” you said, without hesitation, and some of the tension seemed to be leaving Mattheo as his shoulders relaxed slightly.

Encouraged by your words, he leaned even closer until his breath fanned your lips and your breath hitched slightly, making his lips and fingers twitch. “You know I'd fucking kill anyone who does?” he said, as if it were a vow. Both his voice and his eyes were steady and dead-serious, but his thumbs brushed over your sides tenderly.

“Mattheo, he didn't mean to,” you breathed, hardly knowing what you were saying anymore. His proximity made you dizzy, but you'd nothing to hold onto but him.

Mattheo groaned lightly, a sound of frustration, and dipped his head down to your neck. You prayed he couldn't hear how fast your pulse was going, would stock the goosebumps up to the cold night air that suddenly seemed so hot. “Don't you defend him,” he growled into your neck, nipping lightly at the skin there and eliciting a small squeak from you. Raising his head once more, he stared into your eyes with such intensity that your hands started to tremble under the weight of his gaze. “Fuck, I never want to see you cry again, princess.”

This was an irreversible breach of your previous platonicism, you knew there was no going back now, and, as always, your brain could scarcely keep up with him. He was a whirlwind, a force of nature, utterly destructive and terrifyingly beautiful, something you had admired from afar but always felt the pull towards. Now, you were too close, it was inevitable that you would be drawn to him completely, be pulled into his stormy midst, discover what lay behind his deadly armor. And God, how you didn't mind it one bit.

“Mattheo…,” you breathed, no words forming in your mind, just his name as you stared up into his dark eyes. They reflected the starry sky, and somehow, it was even more beautiful through his eyes than when you'd admired it from the grounds before your detention. The storm in them had subsided somewhat, or maybe, this was the eye of the storm, because in this moment, all there was in your world was him, his breathing, his voice, his touch and his serious eyes. Nothing else.

“I'd burn down the whole world for you,” he said heavily, and a nervous little chuckle fell from your lips. His eyes darted down to them. “There's six billion people in that world you want to burn down,” you reminded him, and his eyes snapped back up to yours as he frowned. Mattheos head swam as he leaned closer, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. He'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted this.

“I only care about one of them.”

As his lips met yours, it wasn't the reckless, impulsive kiss you'd half-expected. it was tender, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid you might pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Thoughts reduced to the memory of his eyes and words and the feeling of his slightly chapped lips on yours. The kiss wasn’t just a spark; it was a thread pulling you closer to him, unraveling every doubt you may have had left about him. The faint metallic taste in your mouth couldn't deter you from deepening the kiss and burying your hands in his dark curls once more.

Mattheo could have died, right here, right now, so he could never ruin this moment. When you slipped your soft fingers into his hair, he let out a low groan that you answered with a hitched breath before he got a hold of your neck and pulled you against him once more. He was in fucking heaven, or at least as close to it as was possible for a creature like him. The hand that didn't hold your neck circled your waist and pulled you towards him, making you gasp into his mouth and giving him the chance to slip his tongue past your lips. The soft sigh it elicited from you made his head spin.

For a moment, he had to restrain himself from seizing you, kissing you until you couldn't breathe, sneak his hands under your neatly tucked shirt and bury them in your soft flesh, drawing out more of these damn noises that drove him absolutely crazy.

But, alas, you pulled away to catch your breath. Mattheo's lips chased after yours, and when you evaded him, he dipped down to trail soft pecks along the side of your neck, making you shudder with excitement. His voice vibrated against your vulnerable throat as he spoke. “Look, I'm not great at this kind of thing, but…,” he looked up and you found yourself helplessly lost in his soft brown eyes. “Would it be completely insane if I asked you to be my girlfriend?”

“I think you've never been closer to sanity, Mattheo,” you managed to chuckle before he claimed your lips once more, bruised fingers carding into your hair to pull you close. His teeth grazed your bottom lip as he dipped your head expertly.

“And it's all gone again,” he whispered in between kisses, sighing into your mouth before teasingly biting down on your bottom lip. He chuckled when you slapped the back of his head tenderly and he wiped some blood away from your face that had dribbled there from one of his cuts. His suddenly pensive eyes found yours again, though a teasing smile tugged at his lips as his thumb brushed over your kiss-bitten lips. “Don't worry, your big secret is safe with me. Wouldn't want anyone to know you’re dating the Dark Lord’s son.”

“Actually,” you said, averting your eyes to your hands. Taking his into yours and resting them on your lap, you looked up at him hesitantly. “I'd like not to hide it. If it's okay with you, of course.”

Mattheo seemed to freeze, a frown adorning his beautiful features. “What, really?” he asked, completely taken aback. His thumb was still brushing over your chin, though you were quite sure there were no remnants of blood left.

“Yeah,” you said, somewhat embarrassed by the fervent look on his face. “I mean, why wouldn't I want people to know that I managed to pull Mattheo Riddle?”

With a bitter chuckle, he shook his head. “That's not a brag, princess.”

But the look you gave him was one of utmost earnestness as your digits closed around his bruised up hands and you leaned forward. “It is to me.”

For a moment, all Mattheo could do was stare at you, not quite able to believe what he'd just heard. Your words echoed in his mind, breaking through every wall he'd spend years building, dismantling the armor he wore so tightly around himself. He felt something tighten in his chest- raw and entirely unfamiliar. “Are you… sure?” he asked, his voice quieter than he intended, laced with disbelief. When you nodded your head, a slow, almost disbelieving smile curved his lips, but his eyes shimmered with something deeper, something more vulnerable.

He ran a hand through his hair, laughing softly under his breath as though trying to process that someone like you could actually want to be with someone like him. For once in his life, he didn’t feel like the monster everyone said he was. Mattheo had never felt this soft, and he knew whatever you'd ever ask of him, he'd do it without doubt or hesitation. Because, fuck, he was so in love with you.

When entering the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, Mattheo almost doubted the events of the last evening had even taken place. If it hadn't been for the sting in his lip. And you. It didn't take him more than a couple of seconds to spot you, sitting on the Gryffindor table next to the red haired Weasley girl. To his great relief, you were smiling as you put jam on your toast and laughed at something she said. Wishing he was close enough to hear the sound, he didn't even realize he had stopped walking until Enzo shoved his shoulder. “What's wrong?”

Before he could dismiss him, you looked up from your toast and somehow, as if by a magnetic force, your gaze landed on him. He'd expected you to give him one of your sweet smiles, maybe, if he was in luck, but you didn't. Instead, you said something to the Weasley girl and rose from your seat, walking along the Gryffindor table and making a beeline for the entrance. For him. Mattheo saw your eyes flicker to Enzo and the rest of his friends, somewhat shyly, and he pushed Enzo away roughly. “Go sit down.” They did without protest.

Mattheo turned back to you as you approached and came to a halt before him, almost indecisively. But then, without a word of greeting, you leaned up and placed your soft lips on his. Mattheo seemed to freeze for the split of a second, but then, both his hands cupped your face, pulled you impossibly closer and dipped you just right to devour you. His tongue slipped into your mouth before you could even register the sudden surge of intensity and you mewled slightly, completely helpless in his hold as his lips claimed yours again and again and again-

“Mr Riddle!”

You shot around violently and your cheeks flushed deep red when you saw Professor McGonnagall standing a few feet from you, hands on her hips and looking absolutely furious. Behind her, you could vaguely make out the gaping faces of students, and a whisper seemed to run through the hall, but Mattheo paid it no mind, nor did he your Transfiguration Professor. You felt his lips peppering kisses along your jaw and slapped the back of his head with a hiss. McGonnagall drew an indignant breath in through her nose, building herself up to her full height- which was quite considerable.

“This is a level of inappropriateness I do not accept from Hogwarts students,” she hissed at Mattheo, though refusing to look him in the eye properly. Mattheo had raised his brows, hands still around your neck as he hovered over you. “Now, really,” said Professor McGonnagall angrily. “Ten points off of Slytherin. And both of you, return to your house tables.”

You quickly pushed Mattheo off, who seemed reluctant to let you go. He gave McGonnagall a sinister glare before pressing one last kiss onto your cheek and smiling at you. “Good morning, princess.” Biting down on your bottom lip, you gave him a sheepish look that made it near impossible for him to walk away from you. But, alas, you turned to walk back to the Gryffindor table that had broken out into hushed whispers and pointed fingers.

As Mattheo strolled along the Slytherin table, he watched you sit down next to the Weasley girl who immediately jumped you with questions. There was an uncertain sensation in his stomach when he saw the way some of the Gryffindors gave you looks of disgust, the girls especially. As if half of them hadn't slept with him already, only for it to be their dirty little secret, and now they dared to point at you, who loved him openly. His jaw clenched when he saw Potter stand up from the table and brush past you without a word, but, as if you'd sensed his irritation, you glanced over and your lips twitched impossibly sweetly.

Sitting down in between Enzo and Theo, he held your gaze for a second before you looked away to address the Weasley girl. When he directed his attention to breakfast, he was instead faced with five sets of raised eyebrows. “So,” said Blaise, barely containing a smirk. “What the fuck happened last night? Must’ve really given her a good time of she's already forgotten that you beat Weasley into an infirmary bed.”

“Shut up,” growled Mattheo, twisting his knife between his fingers and glancing back at you, who seemed to get bombarded with questions by the Weasley girl. “I didn't.”

“Jeez, how’d you manage to soften little miss perfect up then?” said Pansy, also throwing a glance at you before turning back to them. “Can't have been your personality.” She ignored Mattheo's glare and dug into her scrambled eggs, still glancing behind herself every once in a while curiously. Mattheo didn't answer, only leaning back in his chair with the expression of someone who definitely wasn't in the mood for chatting. That couldn't deter his friends, though.

“I've got to know,” grinned Blaise teasingly and pointed his fork at his unwilling interlocutor. “Was this whole thing some sort of grand plan to mess with Weasley and Potter, or did you actually go soft for her?” Mattheo's eyes snapped up at him and his gaze darkened. “Don't you fucking say that to her.” “Oh, so you have!” cooed Blaise and Pansy started to giggle, causing Mattheo to roll his eyes at them.

But the platinum haired boy next to Blaise didn't seem very amused. A sour expression twisted his features as he watched his friend closely, the bacon long forgotten on his plate. “So you're just self-sabotaging for fun now?” Draco said through clenched teeth, his tone causing all heads but Mattheo's to turn. “How long do you think this will last, really? She’s a Gryffindor to her core, Mattheo. She’ll toss you aside the moment you show her who you really are.”

Enzo shot him a very firm look, but Mattheo didn't even bother acknowledging him. Frowning lightly, Enzo looked back at him, maybe to see whether he had spontaneously lost consciousness, but Mattheo only looked over to you, remembering how he'd promised you last night, before you'd slipped back into your common room: no fights tomorrow. He knew you were testing him, it only now became fully clear to him that you'd intentionally opened yourself up to public scrutiny. To get it over with, sure. Because you wanted people to know, fair. But also, because you knew it'd be a test of his restraint.

Not only Enzo stared at Mattheo when the latter chuckled lowly, eyes still locked on your figure as you finished your plate and rose from your seat to be perfectly on time for Arithmancy. He was glad to see that Granger joined you and seemed to strike up a hesitant conversation. Enzo’s eyes flickered between him and you. A slight smile played around his lips. “This was… unexpected. But good for you, mate, she's cute.” Draco scoffed and Mattheo clenched his fists, remembering your sweet smile and the promise he'd given to you.

The only one who’s opinion Mattheo cared about even slightly, as always, was Theo, but Theo did what he did best: silently staring into space and scowling. At any rate, he wasn't too keen to keep on talking about the matter, so he rose from the table. Pansy frowned when he grabbed his back. “You haven't eaten a thing.”

“Oh,” grinned Blaise, “my bet is he wants to be punctual to impress his girlfriend.” His girlfriend. His. The thought made Mattheo's lips twitch involuntarily, and Blaise slammed his hand into the table, grinning. “See? I was right! Look at that smile! Merlin, Mattheo, you're down so bad.”

He was, fucking hell, he was so down bad for you. But he left his friends without another word, approaching the stone steps as even more heads than usual turned after him. A sudden worry churned in his chest. Yes, you were his. But being his brought certain dangers. As long as his friends didn't let anything slip, and as long as you were at Hogwarts, anyway, you were safe from his father at least. But Mattheo knew his father wouldn't be the only one disapproving of your relationship.

Over the course of the next days, the topic of your unlikely relationship with Mattheo was the main issue of interest all around the castle. In the following week, you could barely pass someone in the halls without them sticking their heads together in hushed whispers. Everyone who had missed your kiss at breakfast was now greatly informed about it, in a level of detail you guessed most of them lacked in their exams. Curious, how your private business was more interesting to people than the goblin riots of the fifteenth century and their present implications on wizarding goblin relations, though you couldn't deny that this new gossip was the exact type of thing that would catch people's interest.

The whispering wasn't what bothered you, it was the assumptions made about you, and about Mattheo. Only that Mattheo was used to scrutiny and nasty rumors, which was new territory for you. Many students, for example, seemed to assume you to be in danger, especially those of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff house. Not that their concern wouldn't have been sweet any other day, but it bothered you how people always assumed the worst about Mattheo, now that you had gotten to know the real him.

When you'd relayed these worries to Mattheo one warmer afternoon at the lake when the ice had melted and you could sit on the grass, he'd chuckled appreciatively, calling you his sweet girl for being outraged about how people treated him. He'd said he couldn't be bothered less how they thought of him, but you suspected it was more so that he had gotten used to the worst. You wished others would see him the way you did, but Mattheo didn't exactly make it easy for them either. Not when, anytime someone pointed at the two of you walking together in the halls, he cast them a threatening look and had to be held back by your soft touch.

With some, this had earned you the title of a monster tamer, which bothered you even more than the worried assumptions, but was a great source of amusement for Mattheo. When he'd first heard it from you as you recounted someone using the word with poised lips, he'd laughed outright and shuffled around so his head was in your lap. Getting a hold of your wrist, he'd guided your hand to his hair and practically purred how you'd managed to tame the beast with your incredible sweetness and brilliance. Embarrassingly, you'd blushed, only making his grin widen.

By far the most negative reception was that of your own house. Most Gryffindors considered your relationship with you-know-who’s son a betrayal of house honor. Some seemed to think you superficial, which in turn greatly troubled Mattheo while you only rolled your eyes at it, tugging him back whenever someone made a snide comment.

To your immense surprise, however, Mattheo hadn't gotten into a single fight since his promise, even though he had more material to work with than ever. And, last Tuesday, one of his friends, Lorenzo Berkshire, had even approached you panting as you came from your runes class to get you down to the Great Hall quickly to stop Mattheo from picking a fight with a mouthy Gryffindor sixth year.

Meanwhile, Mattheo had turned into more of a gentleman than you’d ever have imagined. He walked you to class whenever possible, interlocking your fingers, giving you sweet kisses before class, waiting for you afterwards and stealing small moments of affection all over the castle. You were sure you knew every broom cupboard in Hogwarts from the inside by now, as it was his preferred place to drag you in your breaks. As Berkshire snitched you as a thanks for keeping Mattheo in check, he was already planning your date for the following Hogsmeade weekend, sending you into a frenzy whether you even had anything to wear for such an occasion.

Ron had been released from the hospital wing two days after his fight with Mattheo, still littered with bruises and cuts and having incredible trouble chewing, since Mattheo had broken his jaw. When you'd told him, he'd smiled smugly into your hair, you couldn't see it but hear it in his voice as he murmured “too fucking bad for him, then.” Ron wasn't talking to you, and you made no efforts to approach him either, following Hermoine's advice and waiting until he came around to the idea at least a little. Even though you were frustrated at how long even that took.

Harry had been a little more forgiving. After a few days of awkward silent treatment, you'd talked as the last two people in the common room. And after you'd practically written his whole charms homework for him, he found it in himself to forgive you, though he was still disapproving and highly distrustful of your relationship. You, who hadn't expected much more, were merely relieved that you were on speaking terms again and did your best to avoid the topic of Mattheo with him around, trying not to set him off. You hadn't forgotten the confrontation in the Entrance Hall.

Hermoine was easily the most forgiving out of the three. Though she, too, did neither trust nor like Mattheo and was worried for you, she still recognized that it was your decision and trusted your judgement on whether he was a danger to you or not. After countless reassurances, she'd finally stopped awkwardly standing beside you when Mattheo kissed you before and after class, and you were glad about it. Now, as you were walking down the steps on Saturday evening for dinner, she talked to you in a tone that didn't even indicate your previous argument in the slightest.

“And so I told him that goblins have contributed a lot to the field of magical science, at least three times, mind you. And in the test, when asked about the accomplishments of goblins in the wizarding world, he writes about their creative name giving!” Hermoine scoffed incensedly and shook her head as you ascended towards the Entrance Hall. “Seriously, he never listens!”

But before you could answer, Luna Lovegood approached you up the steps against the wave of Gryffindors walking in the opposite direction. Slightly out of breath, she came to a halt before the two of you and directed her large eyes at you. “Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office.”

You exchanged an incredulous look with Hermoine and frowned. “Why?”

Luna shrugged, her voice dreamy. “I think your new boyfriend got into a fight.” Seemingly unaware about your sudden intake of breath, she smiled, as if all was said, and turned around to follow the string of students approaching the Great Hall, leaving you shocked. You'd known the peace wouldn't last forever. But Mattheo could handle himself. How could the fight have been so bad that you were called to Dumbledore’s office? Was he hurt badly?

Just when you were about to start hyperventilating, you felt Hermoine's hand on your shoulder. She looked serious, but not angry. “Dumbledore’s office, remember?” You nodded, bidded Hermoine goodbye and sifted through the students, heart leaping to your chest in worry as you hurried to the headmaster’s office. What on earth could he have done this time?

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satorurize · 8 months ago

Text

Hands on your knees, I'm Angelina Jolie ♡

CULT LEADER!SUGURU GETO X READER ♡

Warnings and Content: 18+, MDNI, p in v sex, mirror sex, backshots, fingering, clit play, creampie, husband suguru, suguru being very hot, female reader, porn with almost no plot (sorry), terms of endearment (angel, pretty girl), degradation, slapping, spanking, he's also gentle, he is in love, you are too, mentions of exhibitionism.

Plot: Showing off your new lingerie set to your husband was your job, it's not fault that he's a very busy man..

Suguru peppered soft kisses onto the back of your neck, his large hands tantalizingly settled onto the seam of your ass, the other settled onto your sternum, motioning tenderly to take your pert nipples between his calloused fingers.

He kept your figure propped up with delicacy, both your bodies on the knees, sinked on the plush mattress of his bed. His foxy eyes gazing into yours through the tall mirror in front of you both. It was your fault, getting him all riled up on text by giving your husband terribly raunchy depictions of your new lacey set, that was now in tatters on the mahogany floor. While he was negotiating with the benefactors of the association.

"Who could tell..? The fake Buddhist monk's wife is such a vixen.." He chuckled sardonically, jabbing a subtle insult. To which you giggled, turning your head to look at him. "It's fine cause you're a fake monk anyway.."

He arched his brow at your sharp reply small amused smile lacing his own lips, which didn't stop him from instantly gripping your face when it lolled up to the look at him, pinning it up in his palm to keep your eyes on the visual in the mirror of his body behind yours, deliciously finger fucking you. "I told you to keep your head up sweetheart..look in the mirror..always such a smartass.." He rustled against your cheek, giving a prompt, light slap on your cheek to your bratty reply.

"Yeah..Sugu.." You moaned dulcely with a grin, his name sliding past your lips so obscenely that it would put a pornstar to shame.

Suguru let out a satisfied hum at the sounds you made, pulling his crinkled fingers from your wetness then settling onto your cute clit. The slight roughened pads of his fingers from years of exorcising curses felt so perfect drawing methodical eights against your nub that was erectly poking out from your arousal. "Oh-ho..? You're fucking drenched, you liking getting slapped, slut..?"

Your pretty eyes almost fluttered at the vulgarity that slipped passed his lips, you could feel the soft rumming of his chest against your back as he spoke to you in his sultry voice.

"What..? Didn't hear you, what happened to that smart mouth of yours..? Huh..?" He gritted his teeth, his digits ruthlessly rubbing your slippery pussy, the plopping sound clearly audible. He grunted, groping the flesh of your ass handfully before letting his palm impact on it with a rough smack, pushing you down on the mattress so your ass was in the air for him, making you yelp.

Grabbing fistful of your hair, he lifted you up as he teased the bulbous head of his fat cock on your entrance, stretching it open with just the tip which made you whimper. "Oh..put it in..want your cock so badly.." You whispered, desperately wanting to feel him deep within you. You cambered your head to your shoulder slightly to look at him.

"Fucking look in the mirror or else I'm leaving your slutty pussy here like this all night along.." He warned, slapping your face again, this time collision being a little harder, which made you naturally look at the pornographic sight in front of you.

His sculpted body positioned behind you, his eyes half lidded and the onyx bangs framing his handsome face beautifully, it made your cunt flutter around him. The moment he rammed into you with a soft moan, your eyes blew wide at the sudden stretch, making you grip the sheets tighter.

You could feel his balls deliciously smacking against your clit, while the bed creaked softly because of his fast, plummeting thrusts, cooes and blabbers of how you wanted him harder leaving past your lips.

"Yeah..my pretty wife wants it harder hm..? Take it, take it all..fuck!" And he gave you harder. It felt incredible, his each inch. Even as your limbs quivered and trembled as your walls gripped him like a vice when you came.

Suguru was addicted to the sight, the way you were braced up for him in all fours, your fucked out, flushed face only made his cock harder. He leaned in, pressing his body onto your back, holding you down with his weight as he moved his hips in a sensual rotation, kissing the depths of your sweet cunt with his tip each time. The sinful thoughts of claiming you like this in front of his cult crossed his mind. Although tempting, the thougts of defiling you like that in front of filthy monkeys, a sight that was only for him to see definitely made him jealous, furious even.

"Tell me you love me..pretty girl, say it..gonna cum in you.." He purred in your ear wanting the affirmation of your devotion to him, your hands now on the either side of your head, his fingers entwined with yours, his lips and teeth grazing against your skin to paint his purpled kisses on your neck.

"I..love you..cum in me Suguru..fill me up.."

And your syrupy voice sent a spark down his spine as he pounded into you harder, albeit sloppily as he moved closer to his climax. He let out a series of husky moans, cumming hot, white, thick ropes into your pussy, continuing to fuck you as milky rings of your mixed releases accumulated on his base. "Fuck..I love you angel.."

He let out strong huffs as he collapsed on top of you, planting wet kisses on the side of your cheek and back. The heinous thought crossing his head again after the declaration of his love.

"...What do you think about fucking in front of cult..?" He mumbled, gazing into your eyes with an impish look at you knew too well after he turned you around, his body still intimately pressed against yours, like a husband's should to his wife after making love. Keeping his softened dick inside you. He brought your hand closer, his warmth breath tickling your skin at the loving gesture of him kissing your ring finger.

"No."

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

Plagiarism not authorised. Please consider liking and reblogging if you liked the content. :)

More on m.list!

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x fem!reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru smut #suguru geto x you #geto smut #suguru geto smut #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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stottlemonk-moments · 11 months ago

Text

Stottlemonk Moments:

Monk s02e12: "Mr. Monk and the TV Star"

#stottlemonk #stottlemeyer x monk #i love monk's happy little smile so much #it's so adorable #monk season 2 ep 12 #mnk02

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yandere-sins · 1 year ago

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Do you know which concept I‘m going feral over again at the moment?

Yandere!Priests

[Warning: Yandere + Violent & Lewd content]

It‘s really just about the absolute depravity of these priests.

A priest who‘s knuckles turn white as they grip the altar so hard to not just jump his darling on the spot while they are in the middle of a sermon. But their darling is sitting in the front row and they can smell their perfume and it‘s driving them absolutely insane and their cock so hard that they can‘t concentrate on their speech to the point they have to cut the service short. Everyone is so concerned about them but when their darling steps up to ask if they are okay or need something, they almost orgasm in front of everyone. (They‘ll make sure that their darling is the only person to take care of them, that‘s for sure. And while the priest is at it, they can invade their darling‘s home and life to the point of no return.)

Or confessional boothes where their darling is spilling all their worries and heartache, which is not only ideal for the priest to know to manipulate them later, but also because they can't help jerking off pitifully to their darling's voice. Imagining them on their knees sucking them off like the little devil his darling must be to turn the priest away from god. Yet the priest will be panting and gasping for air by the time they absolve their darling from the 'sins' they comitted, the priest hoping they'll be back soon with more.

A cult priestess who notices one of the followers turning away from the cult and it happens to very their darling. So they start sacrificing all their darling‘s friend and family, making them the outcast. Making sure they feel so threatened and scared that the moment the priest opens their arm for them, they run and confess all their sins. They are an outcast that the priest can take back under their wing, reform back to their faith and at the same time manipulate and gaslight them to the point that they won‘t want to leave the priests side anymore, which gives room for them to demand the ultimate sacrifice of the darling—their whole being.

A very beloved priest and their caretaker!darling. Priest is the chosen of god but they‘ll refuse to do anything they are supposed to if their darling isn‘t in reach for them at all times. Darling who was forced into this role but is now pressured into doing everything for the priest so the latter may provide the village with divine guidance. Darling that wants to escape but is dragged back and beaten into compliance. And a priest who basks in the glory of getting away with all the lewd and terrible things he does to them with no one to help the darling.

But it goes to other religious figures as well!

Angels that begin to fall from grace without realizing it because they start to simp for their darling and they really shouldn‘t. But the darling looks so cute and the angel loves it when you laugh. They're really trying not to favor them with divine intervention whenever their darling is having a bad day, but seeing their frown turn into a smile when they see a rainbow or pet a stray cat that thee angel led to them, they just can't help themselves from making their darling's life a little easier. That is, until the darling starts to truly commit sins (like fall in love with someone that is not the angel), and they have to do worse things (like watch over them as the darling undresses or masturbates) and they don't even realize just how much they are losing their angelic-ness, because the angel suddenly longs to be more than just a silent observer.

Nuns/Monks that are taking care of a lost sheep on their priests demands and start to forget about all their vows and duties, wanting to only be with them and stalking them around the grounds. Sneaking into their rooms to frolick in their darling's sheets and lick their spoon after dinner, their nethers tingling with lust as more and more depraved thoughts come into mind. Them sitting next to their darling at the sermon, their knees touching and the yan unable to keep themselves from panting and salivating over their darling, developing a desire to deprave them in the same way as the darling has the yan.

Anyway, I'm super normal about it but,

#yandere priestess #yandere angels #yandere priests #yandere nuns #yandere monks #yandere-talk #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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solxamber · 4 months ago

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Hi! Haven't seen any pomefiore asks yet for the holiday event so can I ask for that with #2 and fluff as the genre? Thanks!

"try not to choose vil for pomefiore" challenge: failed

Sweet as You || Vil Schoenheit

For the Holiday Event! || Theme: Cooking/Baking together ; Genre: Fluff

The scent of cinnamon and almond flour filled the kitchen as you measured out the last of the ingredients. The countertop was a bit messier than you’d intended—there were splashes of oat milk here and a small mountain of protein powder there—but the recipe seemed promising. At least, you hoped so.

You glanced at the recipe card again. “Healthy Holiday Cookies That Don’t Taste Like Sadness.” It had taken hours of searching to find something festive yet Vil-approved.

“Darling,” a familiar voice called from the doorway, “what are you doing?”

You turned to see Vil, looking effortlessly elegant even in his casual at-home wear. His perfectly arched brow lifted as his gaze swept over the kitchen disaster you’d created.

“Baking,” you said cheerfully, gesturing to the chaos. “For the holidays!”

His lips twitched into something halfway between a smile and a grimace. “I thought I mentioned I have a shoot coming up. I can’t indulge in—”

“They’re healthy,” you interrupted quickly. “I found a recipe with all-natural ingredients. No butter, no sugar—well, no regular sugar—and no dairy. They’re practically edible skincare!”

That caught his attention. He walked over to inspect your work, peering at the ingredients and recipe. “Hmm. Interesting. And this is supposed to taste… good?”

“It’s supposed to taste like love,” you said with mock-seriousness, earning a soft laugh from him.

“Would you like to help?” you offered, holding up a whisk. “It’ll be fun. Promise.”

Vil hesitated for a moment, but the way you looked at him—bright-eyed and hopeful—was his undoing. “Very well,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “Show me what to do.”

You grinned, handing him the whisk. Together, the two of you got to work, mixing, kneading, and shaping the dough into neat little stars and trees. Vil, of course, worked with precise efficiency, while you leaned more toward chaotic enthusiasm.

“Here,” he said, stepping behind you to guide your hands as you struggled with the cookie cutter. “Like this.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his closeness, but you played it cool. “See? Teamwork.”

As the cookies baked, you prepared a small bowl of frosting, made with powdered monk fruit and Greek yogurt. You handed Vil the bowl and spoon, but he paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Hold still,” he said, dabbing a small bit of frosting on your cheek.

“Vil!” you gasped, laughing. “You’re not supposed to waste it!”

“It’s hardly a waste,” he said, smirking.

“Oh, really?” You grabbed some frosting and swiped it across the tip of his nose. He froze for a second, then let out a soft, incredulous laugh.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he said, shaking his head.

“I know,” you teased, leaning up to kiss the frosting off his nose.

When the cookies were finally ready, the two of you arranged them on a plate and took a selfie with your creations. Vil’s expression was soft, his arm draped around you as you both smiled at the camera.

Later that evening, as you curled up on the couch with a plate of cookies and a holiday movie, you noticed Vil glancing at his phone.

“Something interesting?” you asked, peeking over his shoulder.

He turned the screen toward you, revealing your selfie set as his wallpaper.

“Nothing more interesting than you,” he said, kissing your forehead.

The cookies, as it turned out, weren’t half bad—but the evening was perfect.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x you #twst vil #fluff #𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 holiday event

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canisalbus · 3 months ago

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Sobbing over Machete, who can only be seen smiling in one part of the growing up compilation, as a wee little lad.

Sobbing over the face that he was a toddler in that part, a child who had yet to be separated from his family or know the abuse of his "teacher," who only knew the joys of cute snails and holding his favorite pet chicken.

It seems like all of his issues were compounded after his family left him :(

It is what it is. Considering the cards he was dealt, he managed to play his hand pretty well, I think. I've been mulling over this a bit lately, and I'd go as far as to say that in the eyes of his contemporaries, his childhood probably wouldn't even have been unusually unhappy or unfortunate. By most metrics he was a wildly successful individual.

Historically speaking, child abandonment has been more widespread than a modern day person might initially think.

(source)

I'd also like to believe that his parents meant well and the decision to give him up wasn't an easy one. They were going through an impossibly tight squeeze of financial and emotional hardship, and Machete, the youngest child, was constantly sick with mystery illnesses they didn't know how to deal with (anemia + weakened immunity system being the main cause for most of them). Rather than having the entire family suffer and starve, they arranged to have him be left at a monastery, hoping to give him a fighting chance to survive.

If there's a silver lining to it, it was a immense stroke of luck he ended up somewhere where he was looked after (monks were known to have better understanding and access to medicine than commoners). Moreover, he was also taught to read, a rare and priced skill at the time, which ultimately enabled him to claw his way into the upper echelons of the society. Not only did he survive, he prevailed against all odds.

Machete himself probably has mixed feelings about his childhood. He doesn't like to think about it, and (like most people) doesn't realize or admit the extent it affected him. His parents only exist on some conceptual, untouchable level to him, and I don't think he has any desire to try to find out who they were and if they're still alive. He might harbor some repressed, aimless and faceless resentment for them for deciding to wash their hands of him for a reason for another. Maybe it's the root of his inferiority complex and persistent sense of inadequacy, knowing there must've been something wrong with him for that to happen. But then again, it's hard to truly miss something or someone you don't have a personal connection to, or any memories about. In the end, he wasn't worth their time then and they're not worth his time now.

He can recall some of his time in the monastery and it was mostly a pleasantly uneventful existence, filled with strict but soothing routines and a sense of community. His mentor (father-figure, whether he likes it or not) was a cold and brutish man who disciplined him harshly. His relationship with him is tense and inflamed, but he realizes he wouldn't have gotten as far as he did without his tutelage, connections and patronage. If he hadn't sponsored his studies in Venice, he would've never crossed paths with Vasco either.

#I'm reading and rereading this and it keeps sounding like I'm saying that being abandoned was the right thing for him #which is cruel and not my intention #no child deserves to be left behind by their parents #but in the context of the story and their time period #there's a very high likelihood that if things had not played out the way they did #he would've simply ended up as a drop in the vast ocean of 16th century child mortality #answered #one-in-a-million-fishsticks #Vaschete lore #long post #he hasn't held a chicken since he was little but he still has a secret fondness for snails

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scribblesofagoonerr · 2 months ago

Text

valentines day hijack | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

summary: valetine's day plans fall through when buddy ends up crashing leah and elle's romantic valentine's day date night, not that she minds too much about it.

word count: 11617 words

brace yourself lads, it's a long one so i definitely reccommend making a cuppa and getting comfy to read this one

double the trouble masterlist

“Give them to your Mummy,” Elle whispered encouragingly, carefully handing you a neatly wrapped bouquet of red roses. You cradled them with both hands, treating them as the most precious treasure, your little frame bundled up in your favourite red Arsenal dressing gown, “And remember, you have to wake her up gently.”

“I do it Elle!” Your little voice insisted, the excitement was evident as you held onto the flowers with gentle care, donned in your favourite red Arsenal dressing gown as you crept up towards Leah, “Mummy! Mummy, wake up!”

Elle winced, “Gently, Buddy,” She reminded, barely suppressing a chuckle, “I don’t think your Mummy will like being woken up like that.”

From beneath her pillow, Leah groaned, her voice thick with sleep, “I’m way too used to it,” She mumbled, blinking blearily at the sight before her. As her gaze landed on you and the flowers in your hand, her exhaustion melted away, “What have you got here then, Bubba?”

“Red ‘oses, Mummy! For Balentines Day!” You beamed, proudly holding them out.

Leah gasped dramatically, pushing herself up on her elbows, “Wow! You got me roses for Valentine’s Day?” She accepted the bouquet, brushing her fingers over the delicate petals, “I love them!”

“Dey’ red like Arsenal!” You pointed out excitedly as if you’d discovered something groundbreaking.

Leah let out a soft chuckle, “They are, aren’t they? That must mean that they’re extra special.”

You nodded eagerly, bouncing slightly on your knees, “An’ I made ou’ a cardl!” With a flourish, you shoved a crumpled envelope into Leah’s hands, “Ou’ ‘ave to open it now, Mummy!”

“Okay, Bubba, I will open and read it now,” Leah wasted no time, carefully unfolding the homemade card. Her eyes softened as she read the words aloud, her voice thick with affection.

Leah laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Wow, did you write that all by yourself?” She teased, glancing at Elle with an amused glint in her eye.

“No, Monks’ ‘elped me!” You announced proudly, puffing out your chest.

“I thought she might’ve,” Leah chuckled, pulling you into a warm hug, “I love it, Bubba. Thank you,” She squeezed you gently, pressing another kiss to the side of your head.

“And here’s my card for you, babe,” Elle chimed in, handing Leah another envelope, this one neatly sealed and adorned with a little heart.

Leah raised a brow, smirking as she took it, “Ooh, fancy,” She teased, her voice laced with amusement.

Elle rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile, “Yeah, yeah,” She muttered before leaning in to kiss Leah’s forehead softly, “We’ve also got breakfast in bed for you. Today is all about you, babe. I’ve planned a whole day just for us–and the girls.”

Leah sighed, stretching lazily, “Baby, Buddy has preschool today. And I have training, remember?”

Elle waved dismissively, “One missed day won’t hurt, will it?”

“Not happening, this training session is important ahead of the derby,” Leah said firmly, her tone leaving no room for debate.

Before Elle could protest, the unmistakable sound of violent retching echoed down the hall.

Leah winced, “Monkey? You alright in there, my girl?”

A miserable groan followed from the bathroom, “Your grandchild hates me, I swear.”

Leah chuckled, shaking her head, “You’ve got this,” She told her, “Do you need anything?”

“For this spawn to stop making me feel like death,” Monkey grumbled from the bathroom.

“Oh dear,” Elle frowned, feeling sorry for your favourite person, “She’s not having a good time with this pregnancy so far, is she?”

“No, not really,” Leah admitted.

A thoughtful silence hung between them before Elle suddenly smirked, “You know, I never thought about it until now but the fact I’m practically dating a GILF now,” She noted, letting out a low whistle, “I think I just fell in love with you even more.”

Leah’s eyes widened, “Little ears–” She tried to warn, quickly covering your ears, but you were too quick to ask the important question.

“What’s a GILF?” You asked, innocently.

Leah shot Elle a playful look, “See? Now look what you’ve done.”

Elle bit back a grin while Leah scrambled for a response, “Uhm, well… It’s a word that you don’t need to worry about right now. Now, how about you go and help Elle put those beautiful roses in some water and I’ll go see how your big sisters’ fairing, how about that?”

“Ou’ got it, dude!” You agreed, sticking your thumb up with your signature lopsided grin.

“Good girl, off you go then…” Leah encouraged, failing to bite back a smile, “Wait at the top of the stairs, don’t go down on your own. You have to wait for Elle, remember?”

“I be okay!” You insisted, darting off the bed in a hurry.

As soon as you ran off, Elle leaned in, lips ghosting over Leah’s, “Phew. That was a close one.”

“Yeah,” Leah huffed out a laugh, “My bubba doesn’t miss a thing sometimes.”

Elle grinned, pulling back, “Guess I’d better go sort these flowers out, huh?”

“You should, or you’ll have Buddy running back in here and demanding you hurry up,” Leah noted, knowingly.

Right on cue, your voice called out from the next room, “Elle! ‘Urry up!”

Leah smirked knowingly, “I told you so.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Elle grumbled, shaking her head, “You Williamson girls– so bossy.”

“Not bossy, it’s more like… strongwilled,” Leah laughed as she slipped out of bed, she grabbed a robe and headed toward the bathroom, “I’m gonna go check on Monkey and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Elle nodded, watching her go with a soft smile, “You’re a good mum, you know that?”

Leah paused in the doorway, glancing back with a small, grateful smile, “I try my best, but lucky for me, I’ve got good people around me.” With that, she disappeared down the hall.

“Elle, ‘urry up!” Your small but mighty voice demanded, laced with impatience.

“I’m coming, little miss impatient,” Elle chuckled, sauntering out of the bedroom and shaking her head fondly, “Happy now?” She teased you, ruffling your hair.

“I not impatient, ‘ou’re just slow!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, your sass on full display, “Come on!”

Leah padded down the hall, tightening her robe as she reached the bathroom door, “Monkey?” She knocked gently before pushing it open to reveal Monkey curled on the floor, looking absolutely miserable, “Oh, my girl.” She frowned, crouching down beside her.

“I feel like I have the devils’ spawn inside of me,” Monkey grumbled as she felt Leah’s cool hand run over her back, “I swear it– Mum, I feel so horrible. I feel like absolute death.”

Leah’s heart ached for her. She knew that pregnancy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be sometimes, but Monkey wasn’t just dealing with any ordinary morning sickness–this was hyperemesis gravidarum. And it was relentless on the poor girl.

“I know,” Leah soothed, reaching for a damp washcloth and dabbing it against Monkey’s clammy forehead, “But you’re doing so well.”

Monkey scoffed, “Am I? Because I currently just feel like if I move then I might just throw up again.”

Leah exhaled a sigh, shifting so she was sitting beside Monkey on the floor, “That’s the joy of pregnancy, I’m afraid, my girl.”

“Well this isn’t joyful,” Monkey grumbled, pressing her cheek against the cool tile floor, “I feel like my whole body has been taken over. I feel… useless.”

“You are not useless,” Leah shook her head, “You’re far from it. You have to think about the fact that you’re growing a whole tiny human. That’s a full-time job, and a bloody hard one at that.”

Monkey huffed in response, “This is no fun at all. I thought you said that pregnancy was supposed to be magical? It doesn’t feel like it. Not one bit.”

“It is special,” Leah said softly, squeezing Monkey’s shoulder, “But it’s not always smooth sailing I’m afraid. It wasn’t for me, either. And I know it’s even harder for you.”

Monkey didn’t feel the need to respond right away, her hand subconsciously drifting over her stomach, “I just want to be able to feel normal,” She admitted, “I’m so fed up of being stuck here unable to do anything.”

Leah studied for a moment, “Think you’re still up for going to training, or are we calling it?”

“Dunno,” Monkey mumbled quietly, “I just… I usually can push through, but I feel like absolute crap. I know I’ve got that stupid light training plan, but I feel like I barely even wanna move, let alone do any of that.”

“That’s okay if you feel like that,” Leah rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles, “I want you to remember there’s no shame in taking a step back when you need to. You’re not weak. You’re not failing. If your body’s telling you to rest, then that’s what you need to do, yeah?”

Monkey exhaled shakily, nodding though she still looked uncertain, “I’ll think about it…”

“Tell you what,” Leah said, brushing some damp hair away from Monkey’s face, “See how you feel after you’ve eaten some breakfast, okay? There’s no pressure. Just let me know.”

Before Monkey could answer, a loud, unmistakable crash echoed from downstairs, followed by Buddy’s loud squeals of laughter.

“Well that sounds like trouble,” Leah noted, rubbing her temples.

Monkey cracked a tired smile, “It always does when it involves Buddy.”

“And you as well,” Leah teased, getting to her feet, “I’d better go and check out what’s going on. You just stay here if you need to.”

Leah gave Monkey one last reassuring squeeze before heading downstairs to see the chaos in the kitchen.

The moment Leah stepped into the kitchen, she was met with absolute chaos.

“Oh, my God…” Leah’s eyes widened in horror, her once pristine kitchen was the complete opposite, “What an earth… What happened in here?”

“Mummy!” You squealed from where you were standing on a chair, your hands covered in flour while Elle frantically flapped a tea towel over the smoking pan on the stove, “We makin’ ‘cakes for ou’!”

There was a suspiciously large amount of batter dripping from the edge of the counter, and the scene of something slightly burnt filled the air.

“I… I can see that,” Leah said, trying to not laugh at the scene.

“She insisted,” Elle muttered, still battling the pan, “But apparently, it’s not going that well.”

“Yeah… I can see that, too,” Leah murmured, wincing at the sheer amount of mess caused in such a small time frame.

“I did mix all by m’self!” You told her, puffing out your chest with pride.

“You did? Clever girl, Bubba,” Leah said, her lips twitching into a smile, But what happened to my lovely clean kitchen?” She added, emphasised the word with a raised eyebrow, taking in the flour streaks on the counters, the batter splatters on the floor and the bits of mix in your hair.

“It’ ruined now!” You announced, beaming up proudly at her while completely unfazed.

“It is,” Leah said, reaching round to gently lift you from the chair, “And it looks like you’ve got more batter in your hair. I think you might need a bath before pre-school, or I might get some concerning looks today.”

“But I had a baf’ yesterday!” You protested, wiggling in Leah’s arms, “We still makin’ ‘cakes for ou’, Mummy!”

Leah chuckled, “Right, let’s see what we can salvage from this, shall we, my little chef? And then… It’s definitely bath time.”

“We save some for Monks’ too!” You added, excitedly.

Leah’s expression softened, her heart warming at your thoughtfulness, “I don’t think Monkey is up for eating much at the minute, but the thought of that is very kind, Bubba.”

“How’s Monkey doing?” Elle questioned, her tone sympathetic as she wiped her brow.

“Not great at all,” Leah admitted, exhaling a sigh, “I’m a bit worried about her. Would you mind sticking around today? I know you had plans, so don’t worry if you can’t, but I don’t want her alone all day.”

Elle blinked in surprise, “Me?”

Leah nodded, meeting Elle’s eyes, “I know she won’t admit it but she hates being myself herself when she’s sick, and it would put my mind at ease. Obviously, if you can’t then don’t worry…”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Elle cut her off, clearly surprised by the question still, “I can move some things around. I can keep her company. I was just surprised you’re asking me when she doesn’t seem to like me all that much, does she?”

Leah breathed a sigh of relief, “Thanks, babe. I owe you one,” She knew Monkey wouldn’t be thrilled, and despite Elle being kind and patient, she still hadn’t exactly warmed up to Leah’s new girlfriend.

Sure, Monkey was polite enough, but it was clear she wasn’t a fan.

It wasn’t outright hostility–just a quiet, stubborn resistance.

Elle smirked, “Mhm, you sure do,” She whispered, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Leah’s lips.

“Ew, kissin’ yucky!” You scrunched your face up in disgust, “Ou’ can’ kiss my Mummy!”

“Oh, can’t I?” Elle teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Nooo!” You cried, your hands going up in protest.

“But what if I…” Elle trailed off, trying her luck to wind you up.

“No, Elle!” Your little voice shouted aloud, your brow scrunching up in disgust still, “‘Top it!”

“Hey, inside voice please,” Leah gently corrected.

“But Mummy, ou’ bein’ gross. An’ me no like it!” You whined, wrinkling your nose.

“We’re only messing around, Bubba,” Leah said with a grin, before turning back round to face Elle, “Right, I’d better go check back on Monkey. Can I trust you to not burn the kitchen down in the meantime?”

“Rude, I’ll have you know that I am an excellent cook,” Elle huffed playfully.

“Sure, sure, whatever you say,” Leah teased before heading back upstairs, hoping that Monkey wouldn’t kick up a fuss about staying with Elle for the day.

When Leah re-entered the bathroom, Monkey was still lying on the floor, looking pale and exhausted. It was a stark contrast to Monkey’s usual cheeky smirk, and Leah hated seeing her that way.

“How are you feeling, my girl?” Leah asked though she was very much aware of the answer already.

“Like shit,” Monkey muttered, her eyes squeezed shut in discomfort.

Leah crouched down beside the teenager, “So, training’s off for today then, huh?”

Monkey sighed, the weight of her sickness heavy in her voice, “Do you think… Do you think it would be okay if I stayed here today?”

“That’s absolutely fine, my girl,” Leah’s gaze softened, brushing her hand over Monkey’s forehead, “I’ve asked Elle to stay with you–”

“Elle?” Monkey’s eyes snapped open, her expression was immediately sceptical.

“Yes, Elle,” Leah’s voice remained gentle, trying to ease the resistance she could already see building, “She’s the only one available at such short notice. She’s nice, Monkey.”

Monkey huffed, clearly unimpressed, “Is there nobody else? What about ‘Manda?”

“My mum’s at work today, remember?” Leah gently reminded her, “It’s either Elle, or I stay home as well, and I can’t afford to do that with the game this weekend.”

“Sure, whatever…” Monkey mumbled, not exactly thrilled about it, “I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll be fine to stay on my own.”

“Hey, no arguments,” Leah said firmly, making sure Monkey heard the soft but resolute tone in her voice, “I don’t want you to be here alone, not when you’re feeling like this. She’ll be here in case you need anything.”

Monkey didn’t argue, but the look on her face said enough about how she felt.

“Just… be nice,” Leah warned knowingly.

Monkey scoffed, “Oh, please… I’m always nice.”

“Of course you are,” Leah huffed out a quiet laugh before standing, “Right, do you want a hand up? I can’t imagine the floor is too comfy down there, is it?”

“Yeah,” Monkey hesitated, her eyes flickering to meet Leah’s, “I’m… I’m just scared in case I move and start to feel sick again.”

Leah nodded understandingly, her heart breaking a little hating to see her oldest suffering so badly, “It's okay, I’ll wait,” She said, crouching down to be at eye level, “You just let me know when you’re ready, alright? There’s no rush, whatsoever.”

“Right, Bubba, that’s better now you’re all clean again, isn’t it?” Leah said, ruffling your soft curls as you made your way back downstairs, fresh out of the bath and in a set of clean clothes ready for your day at pre-school.

“Me’ smell good now, Mummy!” You declared proudly, clutching Mr. Bear in your small hands.

“You do, much better without any of that batter in your hair,” Leah teased, making it to the bottom step as you did your usual trick to jump off the last step, “Careful, Bubba.”

Elle, watching from the doorway with a cup of coffee in her hand, grinned, “Look at you, trouble, you look so cool. Are you ready for pre-k?”

You scrunched your face up in confusion, “No, Elle. I goin’ preschool!”

“That’s what Elle means, Bubba,” Leah bit back a smile, reaching to grab your coat off the hook in the hallway, “Come here so I can put your coat on, it’s still freezing outside.”

“Why no’ say ‘dat then?” You asked confused, begrudgingly agreeing to wear your coat without much choice in the matter.

Elle chuckled in amusement, “It’s just what we call it in America, Buddy.”

“Dat’ silly!” You insisted, trying to attempt to break free from Leah’s clutches as she tugged your arms through the sleeves.

Leah knelt to zip your coat up, “And don’t forget, Mama is going to pick you up afterwards as well, and you’re going to spend the night at hers’ tonight, aren’t you?” She reminded you.

“All weekend with Mama!” You beamed.

“That’s right, Bubba. You’ll be back on Sunday before the game,” Leah explained to you, “Are you excited about that? You can tell Mama all about what you’re up to.”

“And Ez’ too!” You reminded her.

Leah smiled, “Oh yes, Erin as well. I’m sure they’re both excited to see you.”

“An’ Blu as well!” You mentioned the small pup.

“Oh, well we can’t forget about him, can we?” Leah teased, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes.

“Nooo!” You giggled.

Leah turned to Elle, “Thank you for sticking around today. Just… keep an eye on her, yeah? I know she won’t admit it, but she’ll be happy you’re here for her when she’s not feeling well.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Elle nodded in agreement, “No offence, but she’s not exactly thrilled about me being here though.”

“I… I know,” Leah exhaled a small sigh, “Just don’t take it personally. She’ll come around… eventually.”

Elle smirked, “Eventually, huh?”

Leah rolled her eyes before grabbing your backpack, “Right, Bubba, let’s go. Do you want to say bye to Monkey?”

“BYE MONKEY!” You didn’t hesitate to yell into the living room where Monkey had now resided too, making Leah wince.

“I… I didn’t mean it like that, Buddy,” Leah sighed, “I meant to go and give her a cuddle, I think she could probably do with one at the minute with how poorly the baby is making her feel.”

“Ou’ said to say bye to her,” You said innocently, before running off, “I go hug her and make ‘er feel better!”

Leah shook her head with a small sigh, “Good girl. Be quick then.”

You clambered onto the sofa beside Monkey, wrapping your little arms around her, “Monks’ I goin’ pre-school now but Mummy said ‘our baby makin’ ou’ feel icky!”

“Have fun, Buddy,” Monkey gave you a tired smile, hugging you back, “I’m alright, the Rugrat is just being difficult right now.”

You frowned and patted your big sister’s tummy gently, “Ou’ ‘ave to be nice to Monks’ now Rugrat, or she’ll cry again.”

Monkey couldn’t stifle her laughter, “That helps, Buddy. Thank you.”

“Buddy, come on, or we’re going to be late,” Leah popped her head around the door to rush you along.

“I comin’ I just sayin’ bye to Monks’ an’ Rugrat!” You insisted from where you continued to sit on the sofa.

Leah shook her head fondly, “Well that was nice of you to do,” She said, her keys looped in her head as she turned to glance at Monkey, “Right, we’ll be off now. Monkey– Be good, don’t get giving Elle a hard time, and babe,” She turned to Elle, “Thank you again for this.”

Elle smirked, “Just remember that you owe me.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure out a way to make it up to you,” Leah teased, subtly.

“Ew, gross,” Monkey scrunched her face up in mock disgust while attempting to cover your eyes too, “Can you two not flirt right in front of us? You’re both, like, so old.”

“Old?” Leah gasped, “Are you joking? I’m in my prime right now I’ll have you know!”

“Sure…” Monkey smirked, mischievously.

Leah ruffled her hair, “Well I’m glad to see some of your usual cheekiness is making its appearance, I was beginning to get worried for a second,” She teased, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of Monkey’s head, “Be good, yeah? Give Elle a chance, and I’ll see you when I’m home.”

Monkey huffed but didn’t argue.

“Right, let’s go, Bubba,” Leah said, gesturing you out of the front door.

You scrambled off the sofa before rushing towards the door, waving excitedly, “Bye Elle! Bye, Monks’!”

With one last glance toward Monkey, Leah stepped out, hoping that Elle wouldn’t have too much of a battle on her hands.

"Mummy! Turn da' music up!" Your little voice demanded, sitting in the backseat of Leah's car as you heard the familiar tune of your favourite song begin to play, "I like dis' one lots!"

Leah smiled, reaching for the volume knob to turn it up a bit more, "I know you do, Bubba. So do I as well."

As the familiar tune filled the car, you wasted no time belting out the lyrics, "Norf' London forever, whatever da' weather!" You began to sing your little heart out, before looking at Leah with excitement, "Mummy! When ou’ p'ay game den' dis' song be p'ayed!"

Leah chuckled, concentrating on the road in front of her, "That's right, and you'll get to hear everyone sing it, hopefully in a sold-out stadium.”

You look at her confused, "Sold out?"

"Hopefully, Bubba," Leah nodded in agreement, "It's going to be exciting, isn't it? You'll get to walk out with me, and your little cousin, Henry too..."

"Nuf' talkin'-- Sing da' song, Mummy!" You cut her off, eager for her to join in. Leah obliged but as soon as she started singing, you scrunched your face up in disapproval, "No, no, Mummy. Ou’ are singin' it wrong! I do it better than ou’!"

Leah huffed playfully, “When did you get to become so bossy, huh?

"I just like 'ou!" You giggled cheekily, kicking your feet to the tune of the song.

"Excuse me, little miss!" Leah gasped dramatically, peering to look at you through the rearview mirror, "I'll have you know that I'm not bossy. Who told you that?"

"Monks' did!" You don't miss a beat to dob your favourite person in it, "Ou' are! Ou' always shoutin' at people on da' pitch all 'da time and ou’ look grumpy when ou’ stand der' with 'our hands on 'our hips!"

Leah opened her mouth to argue, then paused, "That's... Well, you know, that's what my job is to do as a captain sometimes."

"Noo," You shook your head dismissively, "Auntie Kimmy is da' captain as well an' she no bossy like 'ou!"

"Yeah... Well..." Leah hesitated, stuck for words, "I feel like I'm being mugged off my own toddler right now," She muttered.

"See? 'Ou so bossy. Even Monks' say so!" You beamed a wide smile.

"Oh, is that right? I guess I'll have to be havin' words with your big sister then, won't I?" Leah joked, shaking her head, “Telling you that I'm bossy. Unbelievable."

You ignored her, moving on to a far more important topic, "Mummy?"

"Yes, Bubba?" Leah replied, curiously as she pulled up to a set of traffic lights.

"When can I see Roo 'gain?" You asked, eager to see your best friend.

Leah smiled as she waited for the lights to change colour, "You'll be able to see her this weekend, won't you?"

"Dats' soooo far 'way 'do!" You groaned dramatically.

"It's just two sleeps, Bubba,” Leah couldn’t help but laugh at your flair for dramatics, “I’m sure you can be patient enough to wait.”

"Still long 'do!" You told her, huffing impatiently.

Leah smiled at your dramatics, waiting for the next question as she continued to drive through the quiet streets.

"Mummy?" You piqued up with your next question.

Leah peered to see you in the rearview mirror, "Hmm?"

"Can we get a pet pig?" You asked.

Leah nearly choked on air, "I'm sorry, what?"

"I wan' get one of 'dem!" You said enthusiastically.

"And where exactly would we keep this pet pig of yours then, Bubba?" Leah questioned, raising an eyebrow.

You thought about it for a moment or two, "In da' garden!"

Leah failed to hide her amusement, peering at you in the rearview mirror, "I don't think that would be a good idea. They might eat the grass,"

"We don' need da' grass 'do! I could keep it m' room!" You insisted.

"Oh, definitely not," Leah shook her head firmly, “Your room would smell horrible, wouldn’t it? And it would ruin your bed, and all of your favourite toys.”

You huffed, then sat up straighter, "But Mummy, 'ou need to listen!"

Leah bit her bottom lip to stifle her laughter, "I'm listening to you, Bubba.”

"If we get a pig den' it can p'ay in da' Norf' London Derby!" You exclaimed, beaming a wide smile, “Dat’ be cool!”

Leah blinked in disbelief, "I... I don't think that would go down well,"

"Beat da' smelly Spurs, dey' yucky!" You exclaimed.

"Somehow, I don't think that a pig would be allowed on the pitch though, Bubba..." Leah couldn’t hide her amusement any longer, “That would be a bit silly, wouldn’t it?”

You furrowed your eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest, "Das' no fair. Why no'? It' be good piggy, Mummy!"

"I'm sure they would be, but rules are rules, I guess,” Leah braced herself for your next question as she parked the car in the car park just outside your preschool, and she didn’t have to wait long.

"Mummy?" Your little voice piped up again.

"Yes?" Leah replied.

"G'anddad 'ports smelly Spurs," You stated as a matter of fact, "An' Uncle J do'!"

"That's right, they do," Leah sighed as she turned the ignition off on her car, unsure where this conversation was going, "They chose the wrong team in North London, didn't they?" She joked.

"Uh huh!" You nodded your head, "We hafta leave dem' outside!"

Leah couldn't hide her laughter as she unbuckled her own seatbelt, making fast work to get around to get you out of the car, "Why's that, Bubba?"

"Dey' no 'llowed to come in cos' dey' 'sport smelly Spurs," You scrunched your face up in disgust, "Only Arsenal people 'llowed!"

"I don't think it would be very nice to leave them both outside though, would it?" Leah tried to reason with you as she unbuckled you out of your seat, "It's a bit cold at the minute."

"No matter, dey' can stay out der'!" You told her, determined.

Lifting you out of your car seat, Leah made sure to keep a gentle hold of your hand while she reached to grab your backpack, "But you love your Uncle J and Granddad. You wouldn't want them to freeze out there, would you?"

"Der' fault for 'porting da' wrong team," You didn’t hesitate to hold back about how you felt.

Leah cracked a smile, "Where do you get your ideas from, hmm?"

"Monks' told me dat' Spurs p'ayers are yucky! So 'porting Spurs is gross, too!"

"Of course she did," Leah murmured, shaking her head with an amused sigh.

True do'! I' glad 'ou p'ay for Arsenal, Mummy!"

"I'm glad that you're happy with that, my little Gooner. Right, come on, let's get you inside, I'm already running late as it is..."

"Let' go!" You were excited to go in and play with your friends inside.

Leah smiled at your overall enthusiasm, "Hold my hand when we cross the road, Buddy. It's busy, isn't it?"

"Okay! But Mummy--" You began to speak as Leah peered down with a small smirk spread across her face.

"I think I might change my name, you know?" Leah teased.

You let out a dramatic gasp, shaking your head frantically, "Nooo! Dat' silly cos' 'our my Mummy!"

"That's right, I am,” Leah grinned.

"Den' why do' people call ou’ Leah?” You tilted your head in confusion, “Dat' no 'our name!"

Leah chuckled, nodding in agreement, "It is, but I'm just Mummy to you. That name is reserved especially for you," She told you.

You thought about it for a second, "Monks' calls ou’ Mum sometimes too.”

"She does, and that's okay,” Leah said, pausing as she opened the door to your preschool, glancing at you with amusement, “Right, any more questions before we go inside?"

"Nooo," You giggled, "But I still fink' we hafta get a pig!"

"Maybe we can revisit this conversation another time, hm?” Leah teased in amusement, the two of you walking inside.

“Good morning,” One of your preschool teachers greeted you with a kind smile, “And how are we today?”

“Good!” You beamed up at her, eyes sparkling, “Mummy say we can get a pig!”

Leah’s head snapped toward you, “N… No, I didn’t,” She said completely dumbfounded, as she quickly signed you in for the day, filling out the usual details–her name and contact number.

An’ we gon’ kick my uncle J and G’anddad out cos’ they ‘sport Spurs!” You added matter-of-factly, arms crossed over your chest.

Leah out a breath, shaking her head in exasperation.

Your teacher chuckled, clearly entertained, “Oh dear, well, that’s quite the plan.”

Leah sighed, finishing up the paperwork, “Just to let you know, Jordan will be picking her up today since it’s her weekend.”

“Not a problem. I’ll let the other teachers know for the handover tonight,” Your teacher assured her.

“Yeah, I get to see Mama!” You grinned, bouncing on the balls of your feet before turning to Leah with a hopeful look, “Maybe Mama will let me ‘ave a pig if ou’ won’t. She’s nice an’ never says no.”

“Oh?” Your teacher smiled, leaning in like she was listening to a very important secret, “Do you have a name picked out for your pig?”

“Peppa!” You declared proudly, “Den’ we can get ‘nother one an’ call it George!”

Your teacher laughed, “I’m sensing a theme here.”

Leah let out a quiet groan, rubbing her temple.

“I don’t think a pet pig would be such a good idea though,” Your teacher mused, “They might be a bit… smelly, wouldn’t it?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “But so do da’ Spurs players so dat’ okay!”

Leah gasped, “Buddy!”

You turned back to your teacher, unfazed, “An’ Elle said Mummy gon’ be a GILF soon, but I don’ know what dat’ means…”

Leah’s eyes widened like saucers and her face went bright red, “Oh my God,” She let out a choked laugh, pressing a hand to her forehead, “Little ears, always hearing things they’re not meant to,” She turned to your teacher with an awkward chuckle, “My eldest is having a baby, you see…”

“Yeah!” You nodded excitedly, “Monks’ keep callin’ dem Rugrat, an’ when dey’ old enough, dey’ can come ‘ere too!”

Your teacher smiled warmly, “That’ll be lovely! But for now, we’re painting today. Shall we say bye to Mum and go find a spot at the table?”

“Yeah!” You eagerly reached for your coat, already halfway out of it, “I hafta take m’ jumper off too!”

Leah winced in deep regret, “I’m suddenly regretting letting her wear her new top…”

You started to rush off, but Leah caught your wrist gently, “Whoa, hold on. I think you’re forgetting something?”

You huffed dramatically, before leaning in and smacking a quick kiss on her cheek. Then, with a squeeze around her middle, you gave her a big hug, “Buh-bye!”

Leah smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before squeezing you back just a little tighter, “That’s better,” She murmured, standing up, “Have fun, Bubba. I love you loads.”

You pulled away, bouncing on your heels, “Bye, Leah!” You called over your shoulder before dashing into the room, leaving Leah frozen in place, completely dumbfounded.

“Here she is!” Steph was the first to notice Leah rush into the changing room once she’d arrived at Arsenal training grounds, running late from dropping you off at pre-school.

“Running a bit late this morning, are we?” Beth teased the blonde.

Leah sighed, rubbing her temples, “Ah, I was hopin’ to sneak in without anyone noticing.”

“Rough morning?” Lia asked, overhearing the conversation.

“I guess so,” Leah mumbled, dumping her stuff on the bench before she undid her shoelaces, “Monkey’s suffering from this pregnancy, and Buddy was full of questions the whole ride to pre-school. She’s got it in her head that she wants a pet pig.”

“A pet pig?” Beth cackled.

“And then she went on to say that she reckons we should leave my brother and dad outside in the cold because they support Spurs,” Leah told them, continuing to get ready.

Katie wandered over, hearing the tail-end of the conversation, “Well our little munchkin ain’t wrong there I guess.”

“Oh, and get this…” Leah huffed, throwing her top over her head, “When I went to drop her off, she called me Leah before she ran off!”

Steph snorted, “She’s too funny sometimes.”

Leah groaned, rubbing her face, “That’s not even the worst part. She decided to tell her teacher that I’m gonna be a GILF.”

The room fell into a stunned silence before Beth completely lost it, wheezing with laughter, “Oh my God, Leah! Where did she even hear that?!”

“Elle mentioned it this morning in front of her by accident,” Leah admitted, exasperated, “She just blurted it out like it was the most normal thing in the world! Her teacher didn't know what to say either and I just felt absolutely mortified.”

“Oh, I’m never letting this one go,” Katie chuckled, shaking her head, “I can’t believe she would even come out with that in front of her teacher! That’s so funny!”

“Oh I can’t wait to see her this weekend,” Lia added, grinning, “I wonder what she’ll come out with next time.”

“I swear, she’s doing this on purpose,” Leah grumbled, “She’s three years old– she shouldn’t even be coming out with this stuff.”

“Well, you know who you have to thank for that,” Steph laughed, shaking her head.

Kyra, who had been suspiciously quiet, suddenly perked up, “Oi, Leah! Where’s Monkey?” She asked, clearly missing her partner in crime.

“At home, she’s not feeling well,” Leah informed her as she finished putting her socks on before proceeding to shove her football boots on.

“Awh, shucks,” Kyra huffed before proceeding to be a pest and attempting to climb on Steph.

“Ah, Kyra! Get off!” Steph groaned, swatting her away, “You absolute pest!”

“So, who’s Monkey at home with now? I’m shocked if you’ve left her alone,” Lia wondered.

Leah finished lacing up her boots before looking at the older girl, “Elle.”

Beth let out a low whistle, “Ooft, wonder how that’ll go.”

“I know,” Leah muttered, “She was already a bit overwhelmed just making pancakes with Buddy this morning, and now she’s got Monkey to handle too. But I didn’t have many options, and I certainly wasn’t about to leave Monkey alone in the state she’s in.”

“Get away, pest,” Steph continued to bet Kyra’s face away from her own, “That bad, huh?” She questioned.

Leah hesitated before sighing, “She spent the majority of this morning huddled up on the bathroom floor. I hate to see her like this,” She admitted, her voice quieter.

Lia frowned, “It can’t be easy.”

Leah nodded, exhaling heavily, “And to top it off, Buddy and Elle attempted to make pancakes this morning. Attempted being the keyword there.”

“Well hopefully things can get only better now, right?” Beth questioned with a faint smile.

Before Leah could answer Beth, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, glancing at the caller ID before answering warily, “Hey, Jords, what’s up?”

“Le, I really hate to do this and I’m so sorry but I’m not going to be able to take Buddy this weekend,” Jordan said, her voice tight with stress, “My mum just called–my dad’s been rushed to the hospital. I need to go home for a few days.”

Leah’s stomach dropped, “Shit. Yeah, of course. Is he okay?”

“I… I don’t know,” Jordan admitted, exhaling heavily, “I’d have loved to have taken Buddy with me, but I don’t think sitting in a hospital waiting room would be much fun for her.”

“Of course, I get it,” Leah said, her tone softening, “Don’t even worry about it, Jords. Just focus on your dad, yeah?”

“I’ll make it up to her, I promise,” Jordan murmured.

Leah shook her head before realising Jordan couldn’t see her, “It’s fine, Jords. This is way more important. Buddy will understand.”

“Are you sure?” Jordan hesitated.

“Yeah, of course,” Leah assured her, “Safe travels, alright?”

Jordan let out a quiet sigh of relief, “Thanks, Le. Give the girls a big hug from me?”

“I will,” Leah promised, “Take care, Jords.”

“You too,” Jordan mumbled before hanging up.

Leah stared at her phone for a beat, sighing before slipping it back into her pocket.

“Bad news?” Lia asked, concern evident in her voice.

“Yeah,” Leah ran a hand through her hair, “Jords’ dad’s in the hospital. I don’t know the exact details, but it’s serious.”

“Shit,” Beth muttered, eyes widening.

“I know,” Leah nodded, “Obviously, she can’t take Buddy now, not with everything going on. She feels awful, but I’ve told her to not worry, but well, easier said than done I guess…”

Steph frowned, “Mate, that’s awful. I hope he’s alright.”

“Me too,” Leah exhaled again, rubbing her temples.

“I’ll text her in a bit and check on her,” Beth added.

Lia hesitated before remembering something, “Wait… Don’t you and Elle have plans tonight? Valentine’s date night?”

Leah’s eyes widened in realisation, “Oh, shit– I completely forgot!”

“What are you gonna do?” Beth asked.

“I… I don’t know,” Leah admitted in a bit of a panic, “I mean, I could ask my mum, but that means rushing Buddy back from preschool, and it’s just a hassle… Shit, I’m gonna have to cancel.”

“No, don’t be daft. I’m free tonight– I can babysit if you want,” Beth offered casually.

Leah blinked, “You wouldn’t mind? What about plans with Viv?”

“Viv’s in Manchester. It’s just me and Roo tonight,” Beth reassured her, “What’s easier–us coming to yours, or Buddy staying with us?”

Leah thought for a moment before deciding, “Would you mind coming to mine? It’s not just Buddy I’m worried about–Monkey’s been so unwell, and I don’t want to drag her out of the house.”

“Not a problem. Just let me know what time,” Beth agreed easily, “I know that Roo will be so excited to see her cousins.”

“Yeah, Buddy was asking me about when she would see Roo on the way to preschool, so she’ll be ecstatic,” Leah told her blonde friend.

“Auntie Bethy to the rescue, eh?” Steph teased.“More like life saviour,” Leah muttered, already feeling a little lighter.

Leah sighed as she pulled into the preschool car park, feeling a sense of deja vu as she rubbed her temples. At least she wouldn’t have to endure another awkward encounter with your teacher after what you had said this morning.

That was a small win.

Stepping inside, she scanned the room for you, only to be met with a frown instead of your usual excited greeting.

“What ou’ doin’ ‘ere?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side, “S’posed to be Mama’s weekend!”

Leah crouched down, brushing a stray curl from your face, “I know, Bubba, but there’s been a slight change of plan. Granddad isn’t very well so Mama has had to go see him.”

“G’anddad not feelin’ good?” You repeated, confused.

“That’s right,”

“Why I no go wif’ her? I wan’ see G’anddad,”

“Not this time I’m afraid, but there’ll be other times, won’t there?”

You pursed your lips, processing the information. Then as if remembering something far more important, you gasped and grabbed at Leah’s arm.

“Mummy, ‘ook! ‘Ook, ‘ook, ‘ook!” You tugged at Leah’s trouser leg, “I got a poorly knee, jus’ like ou’ now! See? No football for me!”

Leah blinked in surprise as you proudly lifted your trousers slightly, revealing a small but dramatic-looking graze on your knee, covered by a Peppa Pig plaster.

“Oh, Bubba,” Leah cooed, smiling softly, “What happened?”

You puffed out your chest, “I falled over outside. But it’ okay do’ I was b’ave, Mummy! I didn’ cry!”

“You didn’t?” Leah chuckled, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, “Brave girl, Bubba. Though, I think I still win. My knee was a bit worse than yours, don’t you think?”

You hummed, tapping your chin in thought before shaking your head, “Nuh-uh. Mine’s worser.”

“Oh is that right?” Leah laughed, scooping you up onto her hip, “Right then, little miss Drama Queen, let’s get you home.”

“I home again! I ‘ere!” You shouted, barreling through the front door without a care in the world. The sound of your voice immediately alerted Tater-Tot, who came rushing toward you, barking excitedly, "Ello' Tate-Tot!" You giggled, dropping to your knees to greet the excited pup.

"Quietly, Bubba," Leah hushed, wincing at your sheer volume as she followed you inside, "Monkey might still be asleep."

You gasped dramatically, "Still? Monks' bein' lazy!"

"She's carrying a baby, and it's hard work doing that," Leah chuckled, shutting the front door behind you both, "She's allowed to be a little bit lazy on this occasion."

Before you could respond, Elle appeared in the hallway hearing to noise you were making.

"Well hello there, I thought I heard your voice, little miss," Elle teased,

"Ello' Elle!" You beamed a smile at the American woman who appeared in the hallway, "I 'ere!"

Elle smirked, exchanging a confused glance with Leah, "What happened? I thought Jordan was having her tonight..."

Leah exhaled a sigh, rubbing her forehead, "There's been a slight change of plans. Luckily, Beth is coming round with Roo to keep an eye on both of the girls so we can still go out."

"I see," Elle nodded in understanding, "Well, I'm going to head back home to get ready for our date night and you can tell me what happened," She exchanged a brief kiss with Leah before she slipped her coat on.

Leah hummed in agreement, "And you can tell me all about how you're day went with my eldest," She grinned, eager to know how it went, "I'll see you in a bit. Pick you up at 6?"

"It's a date," Elle winked, heading out the front door, "See you later, Buddy!"

You waved to the woman, "Bye, Elle!"

Just as Elle left the house, Leah caught your wrist gently before you attempted to zoom off into the living room, "Ah, ah. Shoes off before you run into the living room," She told you.

You huffed dramatically but obeyed, attempting to take the off yourself, "I can' do it!" After a few seconds of struggling, you flopped down on the bottom step with an exaggerated whine, "Mummy! I need 'elp with them. Ou' do it. Dey' too hard!"

Leah crouched down, expertly undoing the velcro straps before placing your trainers neatly by the door, "That better?" She teased.

"Much better. Thank ou' very much!" You said, nodding in satisfaction before springing to your feet and racing into the living room, "Monks' I 'ere!"

Monkey groaned, lifting her head from the sofa cushion, "I know, I can hear you from outside," She muttered, sarcastically.

Giggling, you scrambled to sit on the sofa, all but collapsing against her, "I tired now."

"Must be a hard time being at preschool all day?" Monkey smirked, ruffling your hair.

"It hard!" You pouted, slouching and making yourself comfy against your favourite person, "An' I got a poorly knee. I jus' like Mummy now! I even got a p'aster!"

Monkey gasped, eyes widening in mock horror, "What? No way! Lemme see?"

You rolled your trouser leg up slightly and pointed dramatically at the Peppa Pig plaster, "See? I no play football now. Jus' like Mummy!"

"Ooft," Monkey let out a low whistle, "That does look bad. I reckon we'll have to chop your leg off, you know?"

"What? Nooo!" Your eyes widened in sudden fear, darting to look at Leah who had just walked into the living room, "Mummy, I no want it to be chopped off! I no wan' that!"

"What?" Leah asked confused about what was going on.

"Monks' said she might 'ave to chop m' leg off, but I don' wan' dat'!" Your bottom lip wobbled and you were near the point of tears, "Don' let her chop it off, Mummy!"

Leah shot Monkey an unimpressed look, "Monkey," She said warningly.

"It was too easy," Monkey grinned, holding her hands up in mock surrender.

Leah tutted, shaking her head, before she turned to look at you, "Monkey was only messing around with you, Bubba. She doesn't mean that," She assured you.

You still continued to look at Leah with wide eyes, "No chop it off?"

"Nobody's chopping your leg off, Bubba," Leah confirmed the sentence, mock-glaring at Monkey, "Don't say things like that to her. You know she takes it literally."

It was your turn to glare at Monkey before using your small hand to hit her on the arm, "Mean Monkey!"

"Ow," Monkey whined, rubbing the spot on her arm where you hit her, "No, Buddy--Mum! She's hitting me!"

"Hey, no," Leah was quick to de-escalate the situation, fixing you with her 'Mum' look, "Buddy, no, we don't hit."

"She bein' mean do'!" You whined, continuing to glare at Monkey.

"Monkey was being silly," Leah explained gently, "But it doesn't make it okay to hit her, alright? You know that we don't hit."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Even when she's bein' a meanie?"

"Yes, even when she's being a meanie," Leah agreed, before looking at your favourite person, "Your big sister is a wind up sometimes, but she'll stop now, won't you?"

"Yeah, yeah," Monkey huffed, her fun being spoilt, but it was nice for Leah to see her usual cheekiness make an appearance again, "I thought Buddy was going to Mama's this weekend?" She asked, just as confused as Elle was.

Leah's expression softened slightly, "Granddad's in the h-o-s-p-i-t-a-l," She spelt out carefully, avoiding the actual word so you wouldn't get scared, "Mama had to go home to be with him."

Monkey's smirk vanished instantly, her eyes widening in concern, "What happened?"

Leah hesitated, glancing between you and Monkey. She didn't necessarily want to panic either of you, but she also wasn't quite sure what to say, "Mama's gone to be with him," She said carefully, keeping her voice steady, "I'm sure it's nothing serious..."

Monkey's frown deepened, "But if it's not serious, why'd she have to go back so quickly?"

Leah swallowed hard, "Nothing gets past you sometimes, does it?" She joked, trying to keep the conversation light, "She just wants to be there. You know what she's like."

Monkey didn't look at all convinced but nodded slowly. Leah could see the gears turning in her head, the same way she always did when she was worried but trying not to show it. And you--well, you were still half-clinging to Monkey, your little brow furrowed in confusion.

"I make a card for G'anddad to make him feel better!" You declared.

"I'm sure he will love that, Bubba," Leah smiled softened as she opened her arms, "C'mere, you two."

Monkey barely had time to react before Leah pulled both of you into a tight hug, squeezing you close. You weren't keen on it, trying to wriggle to break free while Monkey melted in Leah's embrace, her head resting against Leah's shoulder.

"Mummy, ou' squeezin' me too tight!" You whined, trying to get out of her reach.

"This hug is a special one from Mama," Leah murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You blinked up at her, puzzled, "Why a hug from Mama?"

Lea forced a small smile, trying to keep her own emotions in check, "Well, because she misses you both so much," She said softly, her arms tightening around you both, "And she wanted me to squeeze you extra tightly."

You continued to wriggle in Leah's arms, "Squeezy hug!"

Leah laughed, but Monkey wasn't fooled. She didn't say anything, just hugged Leah a little tighter. Leah exhaled slowly, rubbing soothing circles on both of your backs.

"Alright," Leah murmured after a moment, "Auntie Beth and Roo are coming round tonight so who wants pizza for dinner?"

Your eyes lit up at them words, "Me! Me! I wan' pizza!"

"Of course you want it," Leah grinned, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face, "Monkey, you feeling up to eat now?"

Monkey shrugged her shoulders, "I guess so. The baby has stopped me makin' me feel like crap, finally."

Your eyes widened as you dramatically gasped, "Ou' swore, Monks'!"

"Bite me, you little worm," Monkey grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"I no a worm! Dat' mean!" You huffed, glaring back at your older sister.

Monkey smirked, "You look like one."

"No, I don'--" You started to speak until you're cut off.

"Girls, enough," Leah looked between you with a pointed look, "Just one day. One day were you two don't argue, that's all I'm asking for."

"She started it," Monkey mumbled, "Why is Beth comin' round? I can take care of Buddy by myself!"

Leah scoffed, shaking her head, "Absolutely not."

"You don't trust me?" Monkey pretended to act faux-offended.

"Nope, not one bit," Leah didn't hesitate to agree, playfully poking her on the nose, "You've been feeling rotten all day, and I'm not taking any chances. I don't want you to be left on your own."

Monkey huffed, "Do I have a say in this?"

Leah gave your favourite person a pointed look, "Just spare me the peace of mind this time, please?"

"Fine," Monkey reluctantly agreed, slumping her shoulders.

"Monkey! That'll be Beth and Roo--Can you let them in please?" Leah called from upstairs where she was finishing getting ready, leaving your big sister the task to answer the front door.

There was no response.

Leah finished adjusting her earrings, "Monkey?"

Still, nothing.

"Forget it, I'll just do it myself," Leah muttered to herself, standing up from the dressing table and heading down the stairs, "Monkey? Did you not hear me shoutin' you?"

"Huh?" Monkey blinked up at her, sprawled out on the sofa, absentmindedly scrolling her phone while you sat at your little table, crafting the perfect get-well-soon-card for Jordan's dad.

Leah exhaled a sigh, shaking her head, "Never mind," She headed for the front door, opening it just as an excited Rory practically launched herself forward.

"Auntie Le! Auntie Le!" Rory squealed, throwing her arms around Leah's waist, "Where's Buddy?"

"Hiya, Roo!" Leah crouched down, engulfing the five-year-old in a quick hug, "She's in the living room, just go on through."

Rory didn't need to be told twice, dashing off into the living room to find you.

Beth lingered in the doorway, smirking as she eyed Leah up and down, "Wit woo, don't you scrub up well. I bet Elle doesn't realise how lucky she is."

"Oh, stop it," Leah chuckled, but her cheeks tinged red all the same, "Thanks again for tonight. You're a life saviour!"

"Eh, what're Aunties for?" Beth grinned, waving her off, "I know you would do the same for me if I needed help, besides, who can resist hanging out with my two favourite nieces?" She asked, walking into the living room.

"Personally I'd prefer Wally," Monkey piped up into the conversation with a cheeky grin on her face.

"Rude," Beth gasped in mock offence, "I'm glad to see you're feeling better. Your mums' been frantic about you all day," She told her.

"I'm alright, it's just my delightful child makin' me feel proper miserable and sick," Monkey groaned, resting a hand on her belly, "My own fault, ain't it? Should've known better..."

Beth chuckled as she patted her on the shoulder, "We live and learn by our mistakes. This baby will be the making of you, I'm sure!" She insisted, grinning, "So, have you thought of any names yet?"

"Oh yeah, sure. Devil child, Spawn of Satan, Gremlin, and my personal favourite, Rugrat," Monkey smirked playfully, "Which do you like the best?"

Leah shot her a look, "Monkey."

Beth just laughed, shaking her head.

Leah checked the time, "Right, I'd better head off and pick up Elle--"

Before she could finish, you looked up from where you were busy making the card, "Where ou' goin', Mummy?"

"Me and Elle have dinner plans tonight, remember, Bubba?" Leah reminded you gently, crouching down to meet your level.

"An' me come too?" You looked at her somewhat hopeful.

"No, Bubba. It'll just be me and Elle tonight," Leah shook her head in disagreement, "but you're going to stay here with Monkey, Auntie Beth and Roo, that'll be fun, won't it?"

Your face immediately dropped, "No! I wan' come wif' ou'."

"You can't tonight, Bubba," Leah tried her luck, but you weren't having any of it.

"Nooo," You whined, dragging out the word as your eyes filled with tears, "P'ease Mummy. I wan' stay with ou'. I wan' come!"

Leah exhaled a sigh, already knowing she was fighting a losing battle. She rubbed a hand over her face before releting, "Okay, you can come with me, Bubba."

As she grabbed her phone, she sent a quick text to Elle.

Going to be running a bit late to pick you up, babe. I'll explain when I get there x

Elle's reply came through fast.

No problem. See you when you get here ❤️

Leah pocketed her phone and looked down at you, who now sat happily on the floor, none the wiser to the chaos you were about to bring to dinner.

Now she just had to make sure that you didn't cause too much chaos at the restaurant...

Easier said than done.

"Let's just hope that the fancy restaurant has chicken nuggets now, eh?" Beth joked, amusement clear in her voice.

"That's the least of my worries,"Leah huffed, running a hand through her hair, "Right, Bubba, we need to choose something for you to wear--quickly."

"I wan' match with ou'!" You said determinedly.

Leah exhaled but smiled, "Okay then, that's simple enough. Let's go and see what we can find," she rushed you upstairs into your room to find an outfit that was somewhat similar to her own before helping you get changed.

"I 'ook like ou' now, Mummy!" You giggled, twirling around.

"You do, don't you? My little mini-me," Leah grinned, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, "Right, come on--say bye to Auntie Beth, Roo and Monkey and then we need to get goin' to go and pick Elle up."

"Buh-bye!" You chirped, waving enthusiastically.

"Good luck," Beth called after Leah with a smirk.

Leah let out a dry chuckle, "Thanks I might need it," She glanced at Monkey, giving her a pointed look, "And thanks again for being here... Monkey might not admit it but she does need people around her."

"It’s okay Auntie Le I will give Monkey lots of cuddles!" Rory declared proudly.

"Thank you, Roo, you're the best girl," Leah smiled, ruffling Rory's curls before giving Monkey one last look firm look, "Don't give Beth a hard time. Order whatever you want on my card--just don't go too wild."

Monkey smirked, watching Leah and you walk out the front door, "No promises."

An hour later than Leah should have been, with a quick stop at the florist on the way, Leah finally pulled up outside Elle's flat. She gave the horn a quick beep to let her know she was outside.

Originally, she'd planned to get out and hand Elle the bouquet herself, but that was a little tricky now--with you happily settled in the backseat, swinging your legs and humming along to the music.

"Mummy?" You piped up as the previous song ended, "Can we listen to Norf' London Forever again?"

Leah sighed but smiled, "Okay, Bubba."

The familiar tune started up again, and within moments, Elle appeared at her front door, making her way toward the car.

"Hello, babe," Elle greeted, leaning down slightly as Leah rolled down the window.

"Hi, love," Leah offered an apologetic smile before leaning over to unlock the door, "Sorry I'm a bit late..."

Before Elle could respond, your little voice piped up from the back, "Hi, Elle!" You chirped, waving your hand excitedly.

Elle blinked in surprise, turning her head toward you, "Hi, little miss."

You beamed, practically bouncing in your seat, "I'm comin' to dinner wif' ou' and mummy!" You pointed proudly at your clothes, "Me an' Mummy matchin' too!"

Elle playfully gasped, "Are you? Wow!"

Leah gave Elle another small, sheepish chuckle, "I'm sorry. There were almost tears as I was about to leave, and well, I just thought this would be easier."

Elle slid into the passenger seat with a grin, waving Leah off, "Babe, it's fine. I get it. You have kids--These things happen. It'll be fun to have a little dinner guest tonight."

Leah exhaled in relief, "Yeah, I... I guess so," She gestured to the bouquet sitting beside her, "I got you flowers. Would've come to the door, but, well..." She tilted her head toward the backseat with a knowing smirk.

Elle glanced at the bouquet and smiled, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Leah's cheek, "I appreciate the thought either way," She paused, turning back around to face you, "Now, miss Buddy, what's it gonna be tonight? Nuggets or spaghetti?"

Leah groaned, already knowing the answer.

"Spaghettiiiii!" You cheered, throwing your hands up in the air.

Elle laughed, "Let's hope they have colouring sheets in the restaurant."

Leah could already tell--this was going to be a very eventful dinner.

“Elle! Ook at m’ picture!” You exclaim, glancing at the American woman in excitement, “See? It’ a dino’daur!”

Elle leaned in, eyes widening in mock amazement, “Wow, that’s some great colouring in, little miss. It’s very purple. Is that your favourite colour?”

“Nooo. M’ favourite colour is red!” You declared proudly.

“Really? No surprise there,” Elle smirked, glancing at Leah, “I wonder why, huh?”

Leah rolled her eyes but grinned, “Takes after me, of course…” She took a bite of her food before shifting the conversation, “So, how was it, just you and Monkey?”

Elle winced, "Well... It wasn't terrible."

Leah groaned, already bracing herself, “Oh, God. I’m so sorry if she was rude or difficult–I told her to be nice. I swear, that girl sometimes–”

“We watched Shrek,” Elle interrupted simply, cutting up a piece of her dinner.

Leah blinked, “Oh?”

“Yeah. She seemed really set on watching it, and who am I to deny a Shrek marathon?” Elle teased, shrugging her shoulders as she popped a forkful of food in her mouth.

Leah squinted, “Wait. So she actually sat through all of them with you?”

“Yep,” Elle agreed.

“What? All four?” Leah questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh,” Elle smirked, “And wow. I did not realise she knows every word by heart.”

Leah sighed but chuckled, “Yeah… she’s been obsessed since she was, like, nine. Probably even before that.”

“Monks’ loves Shrek!” You perked up, beaming.

“Does she?” Elle gasped playfully, “Well that is good to know. I guess I’ve got an easy gift idea for her birthday then. When is it?”

“Not until May,” Leah answered, taking a sip of her drink.

Elle nodded, filing that way, “A couple of months, then. And what about you, little miss Buddy? When’s your birthday?”

“I don’ know,” You frowned, tongue poking out slightly as you focused on your picture, “I don’ remember…”

Leah smiled knowingly, reaching over to brush a stray strand of your hair out of your face, “Yes you do, silly. It’s in April, isn’t it?”

Your eyes lit up, “Oh yeah! I wan’ a fishy!”

Elle raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and Leah, “A fishy?”

Leah looked just as surprised about your words, “This is the first I’ve heard about it.”

“I wan’ a fishy!” You nodded enthusiastically, “An’ I call it… Fishy!”

“That is very original,” Elle grinned.

“I think you’re looking for the word… Creative,” Leah murmured, amused.

Elle leaned forward slightly, “And how old are you going to be this birthday?”

“I be four! I be a big girl!” You straightened in your seat, puffing out your chest, “Monks’ said when I four I can hold Rugrat when she’s born!”

“Oh, is that right?” Elle smiled in amusement.

You nodded fastly, “Uh huh! I be a big girl!” You insisted.

Leah nodded, “That’s right, Bubba, and you’ll be starting primary school this year.”

“Yeah!” Your excitement doubled, “I goin’ big school!”

Elle chuckled, “Big girl indeed.”

“Don’t remind me,” Leah sighed dramatically, “Feels like she was just a baby yesterday. Now she’s asking for a fish named… Fishy.”

“Well, hey, at least she knows what she wants,” Elle smirked, shrugging her shoulders, “A fish is easy enough, right?”

Leah scoffed, “You say that now, but give it a few weeks– I’ll be the one feeding it, cleaning the tank, and making sure it doesn’t die.”

“Nooo!” Your brows furrowed in determination, “I won’ forget, Mummy! I be a big girl. I look after Fishy all m’self!”

Elle nodded solemnly, “Well I don’t know about you,” She glanced at Lea briefly, “But I think that sounds very responsible, little miss.”

Leah snorted, “Try saying that when she’s demanding spaghetti for every meal and refusing to go to bed.”

“I like dis’ ‘ghetti. it so yummy!” You exclaimed, poking at your half-eaten plate.

“I can tell with how much you have around your face, Bubba,” Leah joked, reaching for a napkin to wipe your face, looking at Elle, “So, besides Monkey forcing you into a Shrek marathon, was she… okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Elle hesitated before nodding, “She was really quiet at first–Like, barely said a word. But once Shrek started, she didn’t stop talking. She’s passionate about it, huh?”

Leah smiled softly, “Always has been. I was wary about leaving her… She doesn’t open up to people easily.”

“I wasn’t expecting to say too much to me to be honest,” Elle admitted quietly, “But she’s alright, y’know? I get why she’d be guarded, but… She’s a good kid.”

“Yeah, she is,” Leah exhaled, nodding, “She’s been through a lot. But from the moment I met her… I just knew. She’s mine.”

Elle’s expression softened, “She’s lucky to have you as her Momma. They both are.”

Leah glanced down, almost bashful, “Thank you.”

“Mummy! Elle! ‘Ook! Dino’daur all done!” You exclaimed, holding up your masterpiece with bright, eager eyes.

Leah gasped dramatically, clapping her hands, “Wow, Bubba. That is so amazing!”

Elle nodded enthusiastically, “That’s great, little miss!”

“We’ll put it on the fridge when we get home so everyone can see, yeah?” Leah suggested with a genuine smile on her face.

Your whole face lit up as you bounced excitedly, “Yeah, yeah, yeah!”

Your little body grew heavier as the evening went on, exhaustion creeping in despite your best efforts to stay awake. You fought it at first, shifting in your seat and rubbing at your eyes, but eventually, you gave up, letting out a tiny whimper as you reached for Leah.

“M’ tired, Mummy,” You mumbled, your voice muffled as you climbed onto her lap without any hesitation.

Leah barely reacted, simply adjusting her posture so you could settle against her properly, “I know, Bubba,” She murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head as she wrapped an arm around you, “I guess that pudding is off the menu then,” She added in a quiet tone of voice.

Elle smiled softly, watching as you rested your head on Leah’s shoulder, your tiny fists clutching a tight hold of her shirt, “Well, I think that’s our sign to call it a night,” She said lightly.

“Yeah, I think so,” Leah sighed, shifting to glance at the time before nodding, “I think it’s time to get my Bubba to bed,” She agreed, rubbing gentle circles into your back.

Carefully, Leah stood up, keeping you securely in her arms as the three of you made your way back out to the car. You barely stirred, already half-asleep as Leah carried you out to the car. The gentle rocking of her steps and the warmth of her embrace lulled you further, and by the time she buckled you into your car seat, your eyes were struggling to stay open.

“Little miss must be pretty wiped out,” Elle slid into the passenger seat as Leah got behind the wheel, glancing back at you with a soft smile, “She’s already out,” She whispered.

Leah glanced at the rearview mirror and smiled softly, “Didn’t even last five minutes,” She murmured.

The drive to Elle’s place was quiet, filled with the occasional soft hum of the music and the rhythmic sound of the tyres beneath them. Leah kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearstick as she glanced at Elle.

“You know, you’ve really won Buddy over,” Leah murmured, nodding toward the backseat where you were fast asleep, “Usually she’s a bit sceptical of people.”

Elle smiled softly, turning her head to look at you, “Yeah?” She asked, her voice gentle.

Leah nodded, a smirk tugging at her lips, “Mhm, I think you won her over with the colouring. You might be stuck with us now.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Elle chuckled, reaching over to squeeze Leah’s hand briefly, “Your kids are both pretty great.”

“And full of attitude, too,” Leah snorted, glancing at the rearview mirror again to check you were still asleep, “I reckon she’ll have you wrapped around her little finger soon enough.”

Elle laughed, not failing to hide her amusement, “I don’t think I will mind that too much. She’s pretty adorable.”

The car fell into a comfortable silence again, the warmth of the moment lingering between them as Leah continued the drive, a small smile still playing on her lips.

Leah pulled up outside Elle’s apartment, turning to look at her, “Thanks for tonight,” She said genuinely, leaning over to exchange a soft kiss with her girlfriend.

“Of course,” Elle smiled, “Thank you for letting me hang out with you and little miss. I had fun colouring in,” She teased before nodding towards you, “Get her home safe, yeah?”

Leah chuckled, “Always.”

After Elle disappeared inside, Leah drove home, taking extra care not to hit any bumps that might wake you up. Parking in her spot on the driveway, Leah heard the faint hum of the TV background noise, cradling you close as she moved through the familiar routine of putting you to bed.

“You’re back,” Beth whispered, turning her head from where she was sat on the sofa, Rory was curled up on her lap asleep while Leah looked further into the room to notice Monkey curled up on the other side of the sofa, snoring softly, “How’d the date night go with the gatecrasher?” She joked.

“It wasn’t the worst,” Leah answered back quietly, shifting you in her arms slightly, “Has everything been okay here tonight?”

“Yeah, yeah, it was fine. Roo and Monkey have just been watching movies, I guess they must have not been that good if they’re both asleep,” Beth grinned, shaking her head, “Too much excitement that she fell asleep?” She joked, motioning to you fast asleep in Leah’s arms.

“Definitely,” Leah smirked, peering down at you as you started to stir slightly, “I’m gonna get her settled in bed before she wakes up,” Continuing her way up the stairs to your room, she changed you into your pyjamas with practised ease, tucking you in with Mr. Bear beside you, “Sweet dreams, Bubba,” She whispered, smiling as you stirred slightly, curling deeper into your duvet.

Later that night, as Leah lay in bed winding down, she found herself scrolling through her phone as she landed on the picture from earlier that morning, dressed in your Arsenal dressing gown and clutching the bouquet of roses you’d given her with a sleepy, proud smile.

Within minutes, the comments started rolling in, but Leah wasn’t paying attention anymore. She was already curled up in bed, ready for sleep, knowing that by morning, you would be up bright and early, chattering away as if you hadn’t practically fallen asleep through dinner.

But she wouldn’t have it any other way.

#monkey #buddy #double the trouble fic #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso one shot #scribblesofagoonerr #woso fanfics #woso imagine #beth mead x reader

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