#painting and hanging them up in her sons room

[cherrixpie]

DINNER AND DIATRIBES

double feature: part a - part b

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

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

( masterlist )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Vividly,” you answered, nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No weirdness,” you repeated, quite thankful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mind if I steal her for a moment?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[neeeooon]

How about Sae, Rin, Isagi, Bachira, Chigiri, Reo, Kunigami, Barou and Karasu inviting their s/o to meet their family, after some talking they ended up going somewhere (bathroom, water, etc.) but when they come back they see that their family show their s/o their embarrassing baby photos and stories. How would they react?

omg real tbh THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST!! 🤍 (i got it right this time, ty for letting me know 🫶)

when their family embarrasses them in front of you ;

bf bllk x gn!reader

itoshi sae

-> it was clear who the favorite was right away. for every one picture of rin hanging up, there were three of sae

-> he wasn’t very interested in having you meet his parents, but you insisted. now, after sitting through twenty minutes of the itoshi’s telling you all about their son’s accomplishments, you got it. “… i am very sorry for dragging you here.” “your apology is accepted. i’ll be back.”

-> he left you alone with his parents, to which they took you on a second tour through the house. “oh! and this was when he scored his first goal!” “… he’s only a baby..?” “he was born with talent!”

-> when sae finally returned, you shot him a desperate look, and he swooped in. “that’s great, ma. i have to be up early for practice.” “oh, okay, dear! it was nice meeting you, y/n.” “i’ll call.” and then you’re free

-> “what did they say while i was gone?” he asked on the drive home, and though it was dark, you could see the red tint to his ears. “not much. just that you were born with talent.” he groaned, embarrassed, and you laughed

itoshi rin

-> despite being the same people, meeting rin’s parents was nothing like meeting sae’s parents. even though you were there for their younger son only, they loved to talk about their oldest

-> annoyed, rin gave your leg a gentle squeeze to grab your attention. “i need some water” which meant “i need a breather or i’m gonna lose it”

-> he was only gone a minute, but when he returned, his mother had the scrapbook out and propped across her thighs as she pointed photos out to you

-> “oh! and this was right before rin jumped off the top of the slide and bit a hole through his tongue! he was such a… rambunctious child!”

-> when rin heard that, he all but materialized back in the living room and slapped the book shut. “okay, no more story times. let’s go.” you couldn’t help but laugh at how pink his cheeks were

isagi yoichi

-> you were a bit shocked because how could two people as lovely and caring as isagi’s parents raise something as cracked as your boyfriend?

-> “oh, yoichi was such a scaredy cat growing up! so scared of everything, he wouldn’t even put his clothes on!” “mom!” “he would run around naked! and his father would be chasing him with a towel—“ “mom!!” “okay, fine!”

-> isagi spent the rest of the dinner sulking, his ears burning like flares in humiliation as his parents went on and on about the kind of kid he was. you didn’t mind one bit, loving all the free blackmail material

-> “can we pretend that never happened?” he practically begged on the way back to yours, and you cackled manically. “there’s no way in hell, mr. scaredy cat—“ “i was, like, three or something!” “i’m kidding, babe! don’t lose your pants—“ “y/n!”

bachira meguru

-> bachira’s mom is the coolest person you’ve ever met, to the point where if you were the same age, you’d want her to be your best friend

-> when you met her for the first time, she was covered in various paints and dyes, and you were immediately drawn to her warm, confident aura. “y/n! it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you! meguru, can you get the tea from the fridge?”

-> once he was gone, she immediately collected your hands in hers and pulled you close. “has he told you about his monster friend?” “yes, ma’am—“ “oh, just yu is fine! ma’am makes me feel old.”

-> “ma!” bachira cried when he returned with the tea to find his mother showing you some paintings he’d done as a child while telling you what he was like back then. “oh, he was such a sensitive little boy… meg, so glad of you to finally join us!”

chigiri hyoma

-> oh my god, you’re so in love with chigiri’s family

-> you were nervous to meet them, but they were so immensely welcoming and made you feel comfortable that you forgot it was your first time meeting

-> “hyoma works so hard, y’know?” his sister sighed as she dropped some sugar into your tea. “when he was younger, before his accident, he used to be so cocky! he’d ask random people at school to race him all the time, and—“

-> and chigiri appears from helping their mom fold some laundry, his lips parted and cheeks nearly as red as his hair. “sis! is that really necessary?” “what? it’s a story of your growth!”

-> you could tell chigiri was embarrassed, maybe even a little ashamed of his younger self, but you quietly asked his sister to go on. “he’s grown a lot since then. been through a lot. he’s lucky to have you, y/n.” “you’re so embarrassing, sis..” “and you need to learn to respect your elders!”

mikage reo

-> you were a bit iffy about reo’s parents when you first met them. they weren’t necessarily strict, but their smiles felt forced and awkward

-> it wasn’t until reo slipped away to the restroom, leaving you alone with them, that they finally started some conversation. “… would you like to see little reo on his sixth birthday?” you were desperate to break the tension and nodded. “yes, please.”

-> one photo turned into two, two turned into three, and soon you were giggling along with reo’s mom as she told you stories you knew reo would never tell you himself

-> “he’s always had a soft spot for strays. the poor boy wanted a puppy so bad, he made one out of sticks and played with it until his father finally gave in! oh, welcome back, son!”

-> reo, red-faced and embarrassed, crossed his arms over his chest. “it wasn’t sticks… it was a stick. one.” you took his hand in yours and gave it a squeeze. “i’m sure you took very good care of your stick-dog.” “we’re leaving. bye!”

kunigami rensuke

-> kunigami’s parents love you, but his sisters love you

-> “ren, honey, do you mind helping me in the kitchen?” kunigami’s mother called, and he gave you a small smile before disappearing around the corner. leaving you alone with his two sisters

-> “did you know that rensuke picked his nose until he was, like, twelve?” the younger of the two confessed, shamelessly exposing her older brother. you choked on a laugh as the older nodded. “it’s true! also, he used to cry if anyone sang him a lullaby.”

-> kunigami’s spiky head appeared around the corner, shooting glares between his sisters as he asked, “you two aren’t trying to scare y/n off, are you?”

-> both sisters gaped at him. “absolutely not!! y/n is family now!” “yeah, we like them more than you!” “wha—?!”

barou shouei

-> unlike kunigami’s sisters, barou’s were more hesitant toward you. they grew up with barou more as a parental figure than a brother, were spoiled rotten by him, so meeting his partner was strangely daunting

-> barou’s mother immediately loved you. she set a cup of tea in your hands and rested a hand on your shoulder. “you’re a good one, y/n. i’ve heard nothing but sweet things about you.” you can’t help but blush. “thank you.”

-> “will you still love him when he cleans up after you 24/7?” “uh—“ “or when he gets sad when someone puts wafers in his pudding?” “i—“ “do you clean? shouei really needs to be with someone who likes cleaning, too—“ “girls!”

-> you were pulled away from the badgering sisters, who were blinking between you and barou innocently. “we’re just curious!” “yeah! you deserve the best, big brother!”

-> barou, clearly embarrassed, just ruffled their hair and sent them to play somewhere else. “sorry about them..” but you were smiling. “no, they’re lovely. they care about you, a lot!” your smile grew when barou reddened

karasu tabito

-> “my, what great bone structure you have~” “granny! yer freaking ‘em out!”

-> you tried to laugh, but your face was smushed between two old lady hands. karasu tried to distract her with his sweet smile while pulling you to safety, but you only ended up with his older sister, instead

-> “oh my gosh, tabito is so lucky to have someone like you. you know, when he was in middle school, he had this phase with painting his nails black—“ “okay, enough telling y/n about tabito’s emo era!” karasu cut in with a nervous chuckle

-> his sister rolled her eyes and pulled you down to sit with her. “and his hair!” she whispered, pulling her phone out. “wait, i have a ton of pics of him from when he was a preteen. look at how dumb and full of himself he looks, y/n!” “oh my god, his head!!” “right?! stupid tabito.”

-> the tabito in question is mildly offended and extremely disturbed to see his partner and his sister laughing at old photos of him, but he knows this is a game he’ll ever win

[reddtulips]

something something ghoap staying at johnny’s family farm that’s less than two hours away from glasgow.

they barely reach the damn place because simon insists on driving and takes a wrong exit on the highway and johnny has to piss a hundred times during the drive.

the air is crisp and cold and frosts the tips of their noses and simon forces indifference when johnny’s fingers brush simon’s to hold the duffel bag so he can close the trunk of the car.

johnny knocks on the front door and his mother rips it open, hugging his son and without a second to think, hugs simon as well and ushers them inside.

johnny’s father is a simple man and gives simon a firm handshake and a pat on his back and shows him the dining room, a feast set on the table and every salad under the sun overflowing in hand painted bowls that johnny’s mother made when she did pottery ten years ago.

johnny’s sisters are there, his niece and nephews as well, all children and simon sweats thinking how in the hell he is supposed to talk to them. are the boys at the appropriate age to know about guns and knives? or do they look at encyclopedias of greek mythology and dinosaurs? does the niece like barbie and dress up? or is she one of those girls that like to collect bugs and draw hopscotch on the pavement with colorful chalk and wipe the excess from her fingers onto her pants?

they watch him with eager eyes and giggles smothered behind tiny hands, and watch in awe when he lifts his balaclava to expose his mouth so he can eat.

johnny does the talking at the table and simon can’t understand a fucking word he’s saying because he’s gone full scottish with his family, only hums and nods occasionally. he wolfs down every piece of food, the human trashcan that he is (and because he doesn’t remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal), and nearly combusts for a second time that day as johnny’s mam places a plate with a thick slice of apple pie in front of him, vanilla ice cream melting over it and puts a hand on his shoulder, “johnny told me ye have a sweet tooth, so i made it especially for ye.”

simon who does silent breathing exercises so he doesn’t cry because he misses this so fucking much. to sit down with a family and enjoy a meal together with loved ones and not fight, nor scream nor yell nor cry nor throw food nor break plates and it’s just laughter upon laughter upon claps on the shoulders and clutching at arms and pulling each other into side hugs and light jabs that mean nothing and don’t break into full blown fights and simon thinks he’s going to vomit.

simon who gets to see johnny’s childhood bedroom. it’s decorated in superhero posters and hanging medals and trophies from gymnastics and competitive shooting competitions. johnny turns sheepish when simon points them out, teases him and likes and fears the swirl of warmth in his chest when johnny’s ears and neck turn red. he’s told “still a better shot than you,” and if johnny were anyone else, he’s be given toilet cleaning duties for the next three months.

simon who wants to pull out and empty every drawer, check every nook and cranny and learn and suck in every single piece of information and story there is about johnny and what — there’s pictures of you as a kid? with a mohawk? fuck off, soap, lemme see.

johnny opens the left door of his wardrobe and it’s covered in baby pictures of him and his family and simon’s chest tightens but he doesn’t break his gaze. Lo and behold, Johnny points out a picture on top and holy shit, it’s him holding a fat, orange cat the size of half his body and he’s sporting a long mohawk. His cheeks are stained with tears but there’s a forced grin on his face and blood on his chin. johnny explains it was his 7th birthday, he fell off a swing, hit his chin and his mam still wanted a photo. the cat’s named ‘fergus’ and he’s still alive and has lost most of the weight. he explains more photos but simon’s eyes keep coming back to the first one and he just wants to lean down and leave a gentle kiss on the scar covering johnny’s chin.

the kids don’t leave simon alone, as much as uncle johnny protests and tells them to get tae and let ‘em rest, he’s been drivin’ all mornin’ but watches them from the kitchen with a soft smile as simon walks around with the kids hanging and clutching at his strong arms like they’re monkeys and simon can’t get enough of their giggles and ooh’s and ahh’s when he tells them heroic and child-friendly war stories about their uncle. he also tells them that he sucks ass at taking orders and sharing his MREs and that they should listen to their parents and respect their elders and share with each other. johnny smothers a grin behind his hand as simon uses his lieutenant’s voice when speaking to the kids about these things.

johnny steals simon away then, “gotta show ‘em the horses”, and simon keeps his distance and doesn’t dare get up on one of them. the cockiest, “scared, Lt.?” with a shit-eating grin from johnny makes him grab the reigns and climb on. johnny leads the horse down the field and they fall into a comfortable silence. simon can’t get enough of the peace and quiet and chirping of birds and gentle yet chilly breeze on his hands and johnny is suddenly coming to a halt.

simon looks down at his sergeant, and his cheeks are flushed red and there’s determination and well-masked hesitation in his blue eyes and before simon knows it, he’s being pulled down by the sleeve of his jacket and johnny is cupping the sides of his face and pressing a gentle kiss over the material of simon’s mask. it’s innocent, quick, almost like it doesn’t even happen and isn’t registered. but their gazes meet when they part and it’s over for both of them because simon is fervently pushing his mask up and cupping johnny’s cheeks and they’re both leaning forward again and pressing kiss upon kiss upon kiss on each other’s lips and simon finally thinks,

i’ve found it. i’ve found home.

[opiopal]

imagine just a regular human OM au,

as in like, no angels, no demons, no magic, none of that whatsoever, everyone is just their character trope but in a regular kinda sitcomy romance

RAD is just a fancy private school, Dia is like, the rich principals son who’s also like class president, and Luci is vice, snd luci made all his brothers join student council because he wanted them all to have at least one activity that would look good on a resume for them, mams is still known for being scummy, Levi is rarely seen at school cause he’s a shut in nerd, Asmo is super popular, ect. Ect. Literally it’s just them but… human. and mc showing up is just like, they qualified for this program and didn’t really know it(bc public schools suck at communication dog), and so they are suddenly told they’re gonna be flown halfway across the world for this, and the rest is history.

now, you guys are probably thinking, “Opi, you basically just said imagine OM but without the thing that makes it OM” and to that I say,

Yah lol,

BUT LISTEN!

it has potential to be cute, like, instead of big cool pact marks, it’s just the brothers who like mc doodling on their arms in pen when they’re bored, like they all do it and don’t really know why, but mc lets them so they do it. or like, mc is just given an item to signify that they gained that brothers friendship, like a bracelet, painted nails, a keychain, hairclip, a book, literally anything at all.

So maybe mc and mams becoming friends would have to be more of a hostage situation rather then an exchange??? Like, instead of “if I give you your credit card you gotta make a pact with me,” it’s “if you don’t give your brother his toy back I’ll cut your card,” and somehow it turned into mams hanging around mc more often, maybe he liked them being mean or something lol, we know how he is.

also, maybe this would make the brothers whole situation sadder?? Since it would practically be a highschool au, they’d all have to be like 16-19, so would this mean they got kicked out of their home after the death of their sister? Maybe their father, while in grief, decided to blame the seven of them for encouraging her? Maybe she got attacked/mugged, or got into a car crash with her bf? Obviously this work leave zero room for mc and her being related in a sense(maybe they had been friends in the past?) so the brothers beginning to like mc more would have to happen more organically instead of being pushed further along with the Lilith plot point.

Thought moving onto the other characters, Solomon is probably just a weirdo that’s into scifi stuff, and believes in a bunch of stuff(maybe ghosts are still real or something? So he gives mc things to ward off evil spirits as gifts) he’s probably still a student as well, but has back problems or something so everyone calls him old. Thirteen prolly just skips class whenever she feels like it(which is prolly always) so she’s rarely seen/isn’t seen until later into the series, but whenever she’s around she’s like, that one super cool side character that you want to hang out with but luci doesn’t allow it because he worries that she smokes behind the school or something wild like that. Mephisto I feel like would be that one kid you rarely see because he’s in all the honors and honors college classes, so unless you also get into one there’s a rare chance of seeing him around the school, though when you bump into him, he’s so weirdly passive aggressive, like sorry for breathing wrong I guess???? (He would totally get into a fight for someone stepping on his designer shoes) I could also imagine him pulling the whole “my father will hear of this!!” Crap. Though eventually he’d warm up and be pretty nice! Though wouldn’t wanna show it often in public, but he just might, only for mc of course. Raphael simeon and Luke are most likely those close family friends that you legit forget aren’t actually family because they’re so insanely close, and I can imagine they’re basically the same, though maybe luke isn’t a little speciest. Luke is most likely either just like, a 6th grader that is around sometimes, or is in a higher grade cause he was moved up. Simeon is on ao3, and TOL is totally an on going story he wrote in like the 5th grade and just kept it going because he realized people really really liked it. Levi is probably just one of those WEEEIRRDOOS who got the fics printed out into book format to keep physical copies of lol, rapheal.. I don’t know him very well, though I feel as if he’d be one of those like, eerily quiet kids, not like “the quiet kid” just.. he’s quiet, but you chat with him and he’s a bit of a nerd, not a raging one, but a chill one, and he likes his hedgehog, I could see him carrying a photo of his hedgehog around to show people.

now here’s the gag guys..

barbatos is the exact same, like there is nothing with him that seems different at all, he’s odd, he shows up randomly, he’s very attentive, and has his strong hate/fear of rodents. no one knows if he actually has any classes of his own because he just follows dia around all day long,

but yea, also no I’m not running out of ideas gang lol, this is just one of my many many OM AU’s I think about often, and I guess I’m just in a domestic mood today lol

[hotmencoreplus]

DOMESTIC 141 + KÖNIG HEADCANONS

Pairings: Captian John Price, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, König x fem!reader (she/her)

Summary: Random headcanons of what TF141 + König are like domestically/ as fathers.

Warnings: Deployment, pure domestic fluff

Word count: 1000+

A/N: Choosing baby genders based on what I can picture more. I appreciate feedback! Let me know what you think :)

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this sideblog @hotmencoreplus for the account, @hotmencore

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

‣ Definitely 1 girl, 1 boy.

‣ Is very big on respect. If either of them disrespect you, shout, or start being bratty, he is right on it.

‣ Got his boy into football at a young age, and is the loudest dad out of them all. He will be shouting to him on the field just like when he barks out orders to rookies.

‣ Always wants to go on fishing trips. Always. I feel like it would be something him and his daughter do more than anyone.

‣ He isn’t big on technology at all. Pretty much just because he just can’t wrap his head around it.

‣ I imagine him keeping up with the new iPhone models, but would not change a thing about them. This man has default everything on his phone (apart from his lock screen of you and the kids).

‣ He is 100% one of them dads that never know what to call airpods.

‣ “What was it he wanted for Christmas? Airbuds? Earpods? iBuds?”

‣ “Airpods, John.”

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY

‣ 3 girls. You cannot convince me otherwise. And he definitely secretly hoped for all girls.

‣ When Simon is home from deployment, they go to him for everything.

‣ Nightmares? You will wake up in the morning to find him missing from your bed, only to find him asleep, half hanging off of one of their beds with his arms round them on his chest, snoring loud.

‣ Simon is so usually on edge, though has learnt to zone his girls out when they are arguing.

‣ “Dad, tell her I’m right.”

‣ “Hm?”

‣ He especially zones out when his oldest girl is talking about school drama. He isn’t listening to a word of it, sat on the living room sofa with his head leant back, eyes shut, humming every so often to make it seem like he is following.

‣ I don’t think he ever shouts. Raising his voice for assertiveness? Yes, but he never shouts at his girls. It reminds him of how his dad use to be with him, and the thought of being even a smidge like his dad really scares him.

JOHNNY ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH

‣ 2 girls.

‣ He aspires for them both to be bestfriends.

‣ He aspires to be their bestfriends. Like he admires them both.

‣ He will never turn down a tea party invitation. Never.

‣ You’ll be cooking dinner, and have no idea where Johnny is. But you hear distant giggles, and follow them up to your daughters’ room. There, you find your military husband sat at a little plastic table, wearing a tiara, clinking tiny cups together with your daughters and their little bears.

‣ “Well it’s nice to see you again Mr. Snuggles. And who is this new gue- oh, hey lass. Wanna join?”

‣ When they start to grow up, he lets them experiment with make up on him.

‣ And seeing your military husband with sparkly pink eyeshadow on and red rosy cheeks really is a sight for sore eyes.

‣ When on deployment, he will tell any and every story of his little girls to anyone that will listen. He loves to show them off.

‣ This ‘anyone’ is usually Ghost.

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK

‣ 1 boy.

‣ Definitely has a modern style for his kids. He 100% bought him a pair of adorable tiny airforces.

‣ Is his son’s biggest supporter, in everything.

‣ He is big on praise. The biggest softie ever.

‣ Will put up every single painting his son has made. Your fridge is literally covered in paintings, drawings, pretty much anything made by your little boy, will be put up somewhere in the house.

‣ He vlogs literally everything. More than you.

‣ He watches them all when on deployment, missing you both, usually forgetting about sleep so that he can rewatch his little boy’s first steps for the 100th time.

‣ He also big on getting his boy into his own hobbies. Even though he has no awareness to suitable ages.

‣ You’re on the phone with him one night whilst he is away, as he talks to you about what he wants to get your son into.

‣ “When I’m back I’m gonna take us clay shooting. I reckon he’d like it”

‣ “He’s 2 Kyle”

KÖNIG

‣ 1 girl, you cannot argue.

‣ He worships the ground his babygirl walks on.

‣ He will literally do anything for her. And you, of course. But his little girl is the light of his life.

‣ He loves when he is home because he takes every opportunity to dress his little girl. Every single time he does he is internally screaming at the size of the clothes.

‣ Every. Single. Time. He will come home from deployment with a bouquet of flowers for his wife, and pull out a singular flower before he reaches the door to give to his babygirl.

‣ You are definitely the one wearing the trousers in the household, always having to put your foot down. Because there is no way this man could ever say no to his little girl.

‣ Is always taking photos of the both of you. Always. He isn’t often in photos himself, but will never miss an opportunity to take one of either of you.

‣ When he is home and takes care of your daughter whilst you go to work, he will be sending you videos and photos 24/7 as little updates.

‣ I can imagine him being the driest texter on the planet. Like he is a proper dad, will just send a ‘👍’ or one word answers. So these photos and videos will rarely ever have context. He will just send them randomly.

‣ Is completely unaware of suitable bedtimes for kids. You will spend a night out with your friends, and come back in at like 10pm to find him up with your toddler making pancakes.

‣ “König! She should have been in bed at 7pm!”

‣ “Oh”

[daddysfangirls-marvel]

Polyamorous: Sketchpad

*bonus*

Steve Roger x reader x Bucky Barnes

Warning: fluff, nudity

Polyamorous

(1)

Steve liked art. He liked looking at it and making it, although he rarely shared it. At least, not the important ones, the ones he held close. This one right here would be one of them.

Steve sat on the floor right outside the nursery. Inside, his wife was sitting in a plush pink recliner. She lay relaxed, slowly dozing off in her arms, their daughter gently suckling on one breast she removed from her dress. All of it was encased in a soft glow from the window.

"beautiful," Bucky whispered as he lowered himself to look over Steve's shoulder. He put his chin on his shoulder as he watched him work silently. "Do you want to put this one on the mantel?"

"No," Steve said. "I have a painting in my studio. It's almost done."

"Does she know?"

"No, it's a surprise."

"It's beautiful," Bucky kisses the back of his neck. " But I'm not letting her sleep like that."

"I'm done anyway," Steve says as Bucky gets up, walking around him towards their wife and baby.

(Y/n) stirred as she felt weight leaving her arms, but panic was dispelled as she saw Bucky gently kissing her daughter's forehead as he placed her in her crib. " Sorry," she croaked, tiredness in her voice as she tried to stand up.

"It's okay," Bucky helped her stand up. "You should be sorry for resting. Plus, you gave Stevie some inspiration. "

Steve gets up and hands his drawing to her. " Oh honey, this is beautiful-oh" It was then that she noticed her tit was still out and moved to cover herself. " You pervs weren't going to tell me I was hanging out. "

Bucky shrugged. " Liked the view."

-

(2)

The house was quiet. Steve dropped his bag and toed off his shoes carefully so as not to disturb the silence. In the kitchen, he found his dinner wrapped in foil still hot on the stove. " I love you," he whispered as he unwrapped his food. Once he was done with his dinner, he cleaned and put his dishes away.

He was making his way upstairs when he spotted a few baby toys on the floor and a lamp still on in the living room. He sighed as he made his way to clean up the mess. It was then that he spotted his entire family curled up on the couch. He smiles at the scene before him.

Bucky was lying across the couch with the baby on one side of his chest and (Y/n) on the other. Ian lay between Bucky's legs while also holding on to (Y/n) legs. Ash lay on the other side of the couch, her legs tangled with (Y/n) one foot under Ian.

Truly, they were all a giant tangle of limbs. It was absolutely adorable.

Retrieving his sketch pad, he got comfortable on the floor and sketched his family. It was peaceful sitting, with only the lamp lighting the room and the soft sounds of their snoring filling the silence.

Steve didn't know how long he had been sketching; by the time someone started moving, he had been working on the smaller details.

"Hi," (Y/n) whispered as she stretched her arms.

"Hi," he chuckled. " You ready for a bed?"

"Your son has got a death grip on my leg."

"He's a mama's boy," Steve said as he got up, moving to untangle Ian. " I think he's just some more of his mama's attention."

"He thinks I don't give him enough attention?" (Y/n) asked with genuine fear in her voice.

Steve picked the boy up, putting his head on his shoulder gently. " Remember how Ash was when we first started planning for Ian."

"She thought we'd push her aside with an actual baby in the house. She got over that quickly, though?"

"Ash was a young adult at the time. She handled her emotions much better and actually talked to us about it. Ian is six, and he's not going to get over it as quickly. He just needs some reassurance, is all."

(Y/n) laid back down, appearing to be in deep thought. Steve left her, taking Ian upstairs to his room. Tucking him in, he kissed his forehead. As he returned downstairs, he found Ash tirelessly going to her room. He made sure to stop her and give her a goodnight forehead kiss as well.

"Are you working tomorrow?" (Y/n) asked. " I want to take Ian to lunch tomorrow, just the two of us."

"Okay," Steve said as he picked her up bridal style. "Should we leave them?"

" Yeah, he looks so peaceful."

Steve carried (Y/n) to bed. Came back tossing a blanket over them and leaving a baby monitor before making his way back upstairs.

"Good night," he whispered as he kissed Bucky and his baby's forehead.

"Good Night"

-

(3)*

"We're always asleep." (Y/n) said as she flipped through Steve's sketches. It wasn't often that Steve sketched actual people, but when he did, they were often unaware or asleep.

"You move less when you're sleeping," Steve said as he put away his dry painting.

"I'm sure you want us to pose for you or something. Draw me like one of your French girls. " A large grin spread across his face. " I bet you had some French girls during your time in Paris."

"No, absolutely not. But, um, you've said that before." He takes a seat at his window and motions her forward; she stands between his legs. " Way back then, before the war. You asked me to draw you like one of those naughty French girls."

"Did you?"

"No, we were always interrupted. Or-" he leaned forward, kissing along her neck, " I got distracted."

(Y/n) looked around the room for a moment. "We're alone now. No one to interrupt. And I'm sure you can have more restraint now. So-" (Y/n) stepped back, unzipping her dress and letting it pool at her feet. " Draw me like a Naught French Girl."

Okay, so Steve was taking this seriously.

He had (Y/n) removed the rest of her clothing and put on a sheer robe. He had her lying across the 'therapy couch' with her arms behind her head, knees slightly bent towards him, and her robe completely open.

He was very focused, his gaze intense as he took in every detail of her. She wanted to speak, but she didn't break the silence. That and she was focused on making sure she posed right and tried her best to hide her imperfections. Suck in her stomach, raise her leg to hide her stretch marks

"Don't look so stiff, love"

"Sorry,"

"how is work? I've noticed you've been busier lately."

"Dr.Cho has been working on things and asked for my assistance. Peter also had some questions about his biology. And Vision was thinking about the future."

That was enough to get her to relax, the tension in her body fading as she talked about her work and then the kids. No longer sucking in her stomach or tucking her legs. Just relaxing as she fell into a trance, going on and on about their children. He didn't even mind as she moved a little and gushed over their children.

He finished but didn't let her know. Instead, he sat back and gazed upon her, just adoring her.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here," Bucky said as he stepped into the office.

"He's drawing me like one of his French girls."

"Stevie had french girls?"

"No," Steve passed him to a sketch pad.

"You're done?"

"Finished 30 minutes ago."

"What?!" Steve smiled." Why didn't you tell me?" he shrugged smugly as she got up, closing her rob.

"I was enjoying the view," he said. She just scoffed.

"I can't blame him, but it was a good view. And this is an amazing sketch." He passed the sketchpad to (Y/n). Leaning down, he kissed Stevie's forehead." You're always so amazing. My artist."

"Could have been in a professional," (Y/n) said as she sat on his lap.

"Actually, I've been offered a position at the rec center I volunteer at. They have art classes, and they asked if I could teach -"

"YES, YES, DO IT. " (y/n) shouted as she wrapped her arms around her neck. " Oh yes, please do it. You'll love it."

Steve chuckled as she bounced in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Okay, okay, I'll talk to them about it."

"Well, Mr. Roger-Barnes, classes have ended. How about we get her dressed and go for lunch?"

"Yay" (Y/n) jumped up and ran to their room to get dressed.

"I'm surprised you didn't fuck her. That pose was a bit too alluring for me."

"I am, too. But she looked too relaxed for me to ruin it. "

"Maybe next time."

Steve chuckled, shaking his head.

[bellaxgiornata]

All That I Can Give 3:| Stray

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader Word count: 6.6k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Teller Masterlist]

warnings/tags: 18+; ex-prostitute!Reader (Reader has a slight backstory), mentions of physical/sexual abuse, canon typical violence, smut, angst, hurt/comfort

a/n: This is a long installment and so far my favorite of the series. Who doesn't love a protective, pissy Jax that can become soft a second later?? Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @kmc1989  @fallout-girl219 @secretlysamcro @bethexo07

Shifting awkwardly in the red silk dress that Lyla had borrowed for you to wear tonight, you stepped out of your room and began walking down the long hallway. Each high-heeled step took you past the many different rooms which were used for entertaining clients and not for the unusual situation you’d found yourself in. Because you were the only girl living at Diosa.

One of your hands tugged uselessly at the top of the dress, your mouth twisted into a frown while you squirmed in the silk as you headed down the hallway and over towards the bar where Lyla was waiting for you. You felt so damn uncomfortable dressed like this. It didn’t help that the dress didn’t fit quite right because it was borrowed from someone else. The heels were uncomfortable as hell, too. They were crushing your toes and you'd only just put them on. How the hell were you expected to survive walking around in them all night with a flirty smile plastered onto your painted lips? They hurt so damn bad that you wanted to rip them off and throw them at the first asshole who came in tonight expecting you to stroke their ego and flash them a pretty smile.

This was not how you were used to dressing yourself. Not even close. Usually you were always in a pair of shorts and a cropped tank top, both practical for the summer heat and useful for showing skin to attract men who'd pay for a bit of your time. Your usual clothing was vastly more comfortable than this tight little bit of silk.

A couple of wolf whistles and loud compliments shouted across the room in your direction caused you to abruptly glance up from the neckline of the dress that you’d been violently yanking in different directions, trying to find some way to make it less confining. Scattered around the bar and a few of the couches in Diosa were a handful of Sons of Anarchy members. You’d recognized a few of them that you'd seen hanging around Diosa before, but the only one you’d actually met so far was Jax. 

He’d moved from the couch where you’d both been talking almost an hour ago and taken a seat at the bar instead. His eyes followed your every move as you continued to make your way around it and over towards Lyla. She was currently resting a hip against the counter near a large, bearded Son who you assumed was the husband she had mentioned earlier. Her gaze darted between you and the sly smirk currently on Jax's face which was directed at you, something like a knowing smile drawn over Lyla’s lips. You fought the urge to roll your eyes at her because you knew exactly what she was thinking–and you knew that she was wrong. You had not caught Jax’s eye in the way she thought you had. The way his eyes kept roving over your body told you everything you needed to know about what he wanted.

“Well don’t you look perfect,” Lyla complimented you as you made your way towards her. “How’re you feeling?”

Looking down at your body, you once more tugged in irritation at the dress. You’d be counting down the damn hours until you could at least kick the heels off and save your feet.

“Like a painted street rat shoved into silk and a pair of stilettos,” you muttered.

Sitting on the other side of the bar, you heard a few of the Sons barely hide their laughter at your comment. Glancing up from beneath your lashes at the noise, you caught that sly smirk still curling Jax’s lips upwards. He was openly appreciating you in the dress, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as his head tilted to the side in silent appraisal. But the moment you’d caught him looking, his gaze slid up to meet yours.

“I think you look damn good, angel,” he disagreed smoothly. “Real damn good.”

Ignoring his compliment–because what were you supposed to do with it–you focused on Lyla for the next twenty minutes before Diosa opened. Though as she ran over a few last minute things and introduced you to her husband along with the rest of the Sons present, you could feel Jax’s eyes following your every move. And every time you found an opportunity to look over at where he was sitting at the end of the bar, you found him already staring directly at you. Each time you met his gaze, his grin would grow just a little bit wider, or he’d shoot you a flirtatious wink, or that tongue of his would slip out and run tantalizingly slowly along his bottom lip without breaking eye contact.

And fuck if it wasn’t somehow doing something unexplainable to you. You’d been assured by Nero that your position at Diosa was strictly bartending and administrative tasks. The most you were expected to do was flirt while you entertained the clients at the bar. You were not expected to sleep with anyone for absolutely any reason. But you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that Jax might’ve been interested in a little more from you than just performing your duties at the front of Diosa with the way he kept undressing you with his eyes. And while you weren’t fucking men anymore just to make a living, you thought you might not be quite as opposed to the idea of sleeping with him in return for the Sons’ protection if that’s what he required from you. He seemed nice compared to what you’d known before, and he certainly wasn’t bad on the eyes. You’d definitely slept with far worse in the past.

As the night progressed, it eventually became time for Diosa to finally open. Lyla had already made her way into the back office with Nero for the evening, but before she left she’d assured you that she'd be available if you needed help with anything. Though you didn’t think you’d need it. How hard could it be to pour drinks for horny assholes and talk them into spending money on the women?

For the first half hour you’d been left just entertaining the Sons behind the bar, which had been simple enough. You filled their drinks and mostly left them to their conversations, taking their occasional comments in stride as they complimented you the more they drank. It wasn’t until the first few men in suits wandered in through those large black doors for the evening that you noticed a shift in Jax as he continued to drink down his beer. 

His eyes had practically locked onto you while you entertained the two men, not even bothering to look away as the Sons around him continued their conversations. He'd raised the beer to his lips, casually taking another pull each time you forced yourself to flash the men a smile while you leaned over the bar to pour their drinks, intentionally flashing them a little bit more when you did.

You did your best to stay focused on your job, not bothering to try to understand why the hell Jax was staring so intensely at you while you worked. As you chatted with both of the men, you soon gathered that one of them was apparently somewhat of a regular here at Diosa. You’d poured him a glass of whiskey while he waited for his usual girl, Scarlett. He’d barely gotten through half of his drink before she’d made her way out from one of the back rooms, her hips swaying in a dark green cocktail dress. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him off his chair before leading him down the hall. Then you were just left entertaining the one man. 

The guy had intentionally taken a seat on the opposite end of the bar from Jax, Opie, Chibs, and Bobby who were still drinking down their beers and talking in hushed voices. As you focused on the lone man, you could feel Jax’s gaze practically burning into your back where you stood at the bar. You tried to ignore the feeling of it as both of your hands rested along the cool stone surface and a sickly sweet smile spread over your lips at the gentleman you were entertaining. You knew you had to play a part while you were working, both Nero and Lyla had made that clear, but the way this man kept staring at your tits had you wanting to stick the four inch heel of your shoes straight through his hand. And while you'd intentionally been giving him a bit of a view down your dress while you poured the drinks, you'd already told him three times now that you only worked the bar and were not one of the girls who offered the other services at Diosa, but he just didn’t seem to want to listen to you.

“Damn shame, beautiful,” the man continued, clearly unaware of the faint edge tainting your smile. “You’re too pretty to be just pouring drinks back there. You need to be properly appreciated.”

“That’s all I offer, sugar,” you told him, your teeth baring at him when you sent him another strained smile. “I just pour the drinks.”

“Come on, you can’t just tease a man like that,” he replied, his eyes once more raking up and down your body. “What would it take, beautiful? To get you for a couple of hours? How much?”

Your hands gripped the bar counter even tighter. Why the hell couldn't this man just take the ‘no’ and focus on the other women? Why the fuck was he pushing this so hard?

“I only pour the drinks,” you repeated for the fourth time, your smile starting to slip. “I’d be happy to introduce you to one of the other girls here–”

“I’m not interested in them right now,” he said, cutting you clean off. “Just you. You’re new. And I’d like to have you tonight.”

“I'm just new behind the bar,” you stated simply.

The man’s sleazy smile started to fade at your continued rejection, his irritation finally starting to show. “This hard-to-get coy act is getting real annoying,” he shot at you, his eyes narrowing. “Where’s the girl who usually works back here? Bet she’d have something else to say about what you do for pay.”

Gritting your teeth together, your nails dug into the stone of the bar. The urge to reach across it and stuff the glass of whiskey down this man’s throat was growing stronger by the second, but you knew you couldn’t. If you assaulted a client, Nero would certainly toss you back on the streets. And then you’d be at Hades’ mercy–which didn’t exist to begin with. You needed to remain calm.

“I can get her if you’d like, but she’ll tell you the same thing,” you told him, trying to keep your voice even. “I only pour the drinks. I’m replacing her here behind the bar, sugar. Nothing more.”

“That’s bullshit,” the man snapped at you. “You’re nothing but a stupid whore just like the rest of them here. You just need–”

“Whoa, we got a problem over here?”

Both you and the man looked over at the sound of Jax’s voice. Surprise washed over you at the sight of him standing just beside the man now, his muscular frame looming over the suited asshole. Behind Jax, farther down at the other end of the bar, the other Sons were staring the man in the suit down with hardened looks. But the expression on Jax's face–his partially drawn together brows, the coldness in his piercing blue eyes, the tension in his bearded jaw–was far more intimidating than the other three Sons combined. He looked like he was one wrong word away from grabbing the man by the neck and smashing his face into the bar–which was strangely making you like Jax even more. 

“Who the hell are you?” the man snapped. 

“Part owner of this place, dipshit,” he told him. “And it kinda looks like you're harassing one of my girls.”

The man scoffed loudly in irritation at the accusation from Jax. One of your brows arched onto your forehead as he turned in his chair more fully towards the clearly agitated and pissed off Jax. You had no idea what was about to happen next because you'd never seen one of Hades’ men ever stick up for you or any of the other girls who worked for him before. This was new to you.

“Well your whore here–”

Jax’s smile grew into something menacing as a bitter laugh cut the man off before he'd even finished his sentence. Standing silently behind the bar, your eyes were glued to the scene unfolding. 

“I'd watch your mouth,” Jax warned the guy, a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he took another step closer to the man. “That's not how you speak to any of the lovely ladies who work here, don't matter where she works. You need to show her some goddamn respect.”

Half of you struggled not to loudly bark out a laugh at what he'd just said. You? A lovely lady? Someone needing to show you respect? The idea was so absurd, so different than what you were used to, that you couldn't resist the twitch of your lips as you fought back a smile. But then the other half of you was entranced watching Jax standing there defending you in front of this prick. No one had ever stood up for you before.

“Come on, man,” the guy said to Jax, waving a hand in your direction. “Look at her. Don't tell me you're not thinking the same thing when you've been over there staring at her, too. You can't just stick this bitch behind the bar and expect no one to want to tap that.”

Jax leaned forward, his face getting right into the man's as he spoke in a low, vicious growl. “The way I'm appreciating her is far different than the way you're fuckin’ looking at her, jackass. And I certainly know how to talk to a woman, unlike you. So you know what I think?” 

You watched the dark smile make its way onto Jax’s face as he held the man's stare. A shudder ran through you at his expression–but it wasn't from fear. 

“I think you should give her a proper apology,” Jax told him. “And a nice tip for the drinks she's poured you while putting up with your shitty attitude. Then,” he continued, still intimidatingly leaning in the man's space, “I think you should either find a nice girl here to occupy your time, or get the fuck out of my place of business.”

Standing behind the bar with bated breath, you watched the man's jaw clench. He was glaring back at Jax, clearly wanting to say something back at him, but his eyes darted over his shoulder to the other Sons at the end of the bar. Whether this prick thought he could somehow take Jax–something you highly doubted–it was clear he knew he was outnumbered. 

With a frustrated grunt he got out of his chair before he reached into his suit coat and pulled out his wallet. Watching in stunned silence, you saw him slip a few bills out before he reluctantly tossed them onto the bar counter in front of you, muttering something under his breath. Jax’s eyes narrowed at the man, clearly having caught what he'd said when you hadn't. 

“You wanna try that again, dumbshit?” Jax asked, his head cocking to the side. “Cause I'm pretty goddamn sure I told you to apologize to this beautiful lady here.”

The man looked like he'd rather eat glass than apologize, but when he focused back on Jax and saw the hard look he was giving him, you watched the fight drain out of the suited asshole. Frowning, he turned his attention back to you, grinding his teeth together before he grumbled out an apology.

“I'm sorry,” he ground out reluctantly.

Without another word, the man turned and strode towards the doors of Diosa as the eyes of the Sons watched his exit. You stood behind the bar in shock, even after the door had shut behind the man. It wasn't until Jax's head slowly swiveled back in your direction that your gaze finally left the doors. Jax reached down, grabbing the money from off of the bar and gathering it in his hands. Then, surprisingly, he held the stack of cash out to you with a satisfied grin on his face.

“Believe this belongs to you, angel,” Jax said.

Eyes dropping down to the crisp bills in his hand, they widened at the sight of the cash. That was vastly more than you usually made in a night working for Hades after he took his cut. And he was just…giving it to you? Gradually your gaze slid its way up back to Jax's as the Sons returned to their previous conversations. There was no way he was really giving you that money, right?

“C'mon, darlin’,” Jax held the money out closer to you, his head tilting towards the cash. “You earned it for putting up with that piece of shit's harassment. It's the very least you deserve.”

Eyes dropping down to his hand hovering over the bar, you swallowed hard as you contemplated the money carefully. Was this a trick? Very slowly you reached your hand out, moving as if you expected Jax to pull his hand away at the last moment and punish you for being a greedy bitch–something Hades would've done. Jax's eyes only narrowed at your clear hesitation, but he didn't say anything as he studied you closely. Though his eyes briefly dipped to the bandage on your arm for a moment before returning to your face.

Fingers briefly brushing against his, you accepted the cash from his hand and then paused, expecting something more to happen. But nothing did as Jax’s hand returned to his side, so you awkwardly slipped the money into the top of your dress to hold onto it for the night. Jax continued to watch you with a small smile on his lips and a strange softness in his eyes at how cautious you'd just been, as if he was trying to appear less intimidating after how he’d just threatened that prick in front of you.

“Not what I expected to happen with that guy,” you admitted to him.

“No?” Jax questioned, brows drawing together in confusion. “What'd you expect? For me to just let that piece of shit talk to you like that?”

Clearing your throat, you shrugged as you glanced away from him. “Hades would've made me do what he wanted,” you told him. “Wouldn't have been the guy with the money being threatened in that situation.”

There was a silence that followed your words, the weight of them lingering between the two of you. It was clear what you hadn't said–it would have been you threatened in that situation. Threatened to do whatever the paying client wanted, not protected from him.

The doors to Diosa opened once more behind Jax, the movement causing you to look around him. You caught sight of a different man than the one who’d just left wandering into the building and you knew you needed to shift your focus back to working. Eyes sliding over to Jax, you saw how he was quietly studying you, aware of the weight of what you'd just shared with him.

“That ain't how we do things here,” he assured you softly. 

Looking over his shoulder at the man approaching the bar, a frown slipped onto Jax’s face before his gaze swept back over to you. He lightly rapped his knuckles against the bartop before he reluctantly made his way back over to where he’d been previously sitting with Opie, Chibs, and Bobby. But as he settled back into his seat while you greeted the new client, you caught the way Jax returned to his previous staring while you worked. Somehow it made you feel safer.

Resting your hands against the bar counter, you slipped your feet out of the heels you'd borrowed for the night with a faint hiss. Looking down at your toes, you stretched them as your face twisted up in pain. There was no way you could keep borrowing these heels, you needed your own shoes. At some point soon, you knew you'd have to take Lyla up on the offer of going wardrobe shopping for work with Nero’s money.

As you were examining your feet with a grimace, Jax sauntered over to where you were hanging onto the bar. He threw an arm against it, leaning beside you as a look of concern spread over his face. His chin gestured towards you before he spoke, his brows still pinched together. 

“You good, darlin’?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you answered, shoving the heels you’d stepped out of aside with your foot. You had no intention of putting those damn things back on. “Fuckers just hurt to wear all night.”

Shifting your focus around Diosa as you placed your aching foot back on the floor, you noticed it had once again become oddly quiet and still here. You'd been steadily trying to get used to it the past few nights when Diosa closed. Nero and the last of the girls had just left a few minutes ago, leaving you here by yourself for the night–except for Jax.

“You don't have to stay, you know,” you told him, attention returning to Jax. “Highly doubt a damn thing is gonna happen in the next hour if I'm here alone. I'll be fine.”

Jax shrugged nonchalantly in response, turning to casually lean his back against the bar as he looked around. “Eh, maybe, angel,” he replied, a small smirk on his lips. “But why take a chance? Rat ain't gonna finish what he's working on for me for a bit yet, and I'd rather make sure you're good here. Besides–” he paused, his eyes scanning over you standing there barefoot in your borrowed dress, slowly roaming over the soft curves of your body with an obvious interest you were no stranger to from men, “–I don't mind keeping you company for a bit.”

With a faint amused huff, you stepped around Jax and began to make your way towards Diosa's kitchen. His comment didn't exactly surprise you with the way his eyes had been on you all night, though you were still left baffled at how he'd stood up for you and given you that money earlier. You had no idea what to make of Jax yet, but you nevertheless found yourself warming up to him.

“I can promise you that I won't be too exciting,” you said over your shoulder.

Heading down the short hallway that was on the opposite side of the building from all the bedrooms, you made your way towards the kitchen. Behind you, Jax pushed off the bar and curiously began to follow you down the hallway, his footsteps soft behind you as you walked.

“See, in my experience,” he began as he caught up to you, “people who say that are generally wrong.”

The lightest laugh tumbled out of you as you stepped into the kitchen, flipping on the lightswitch and illuminating the small space. “Whatever you wanna tell yourself, honey.” You padded barefoot through the kitchen and over to the counter and cabinets on the back wall beside the fridge. “But I'm not changing my evening plans just because I have an audience now.”

Without warning, you hopped up onto your knees on the back countertop, the silk dress stretching even tighter around your thighs. Leaning over, you reached a hand out towards the hard to reach cabinet just above the fridge as you focused on your task. Behind you, a deep laugh rumbled out of Jax as he watched. 

“Goddamn, angel,” he said, the smile clear in his voice as you opened the cabinet. “You're like a fucking cat. Nothing you can’t get into in here, huh?”

Grabbing what you wanted from the cabinet, you closed it and grinned over your shoulder at him. He was leaning against the kitchen doorway, his muscular body filling the space with his arms crossed over his chest, an amused look on his face as you hopped down from your perch on the countertop with ease. Something like mischief and interest danced in his eyes as they creased at the corners, completely fixated on you. Normally, a man like him blocking your only exit like that would've made you nervous, but for some reason he didn’t. 

“Funny you should say that,” you replied.

Still grinning, you held up the canned cat food you had grabbed out of the cabinet for him to see. Jax's eyes slowly narrowed at the sight of it as he read the label, his amusement quickly fading when he realized what it was you'd grabbed. A deep frown pulled at his lips as he pushed off the doorframe, a ringed finger pointing at the can.

“Darlin’, you're not gonna…?” he began, trailing off as his eyes met yours again.

A snort of amusement left you at the unspoken question. “No, relax, honey,” you assured him. “I'm not about to tear into a can of cat food. It's not for me.”

With the grin still spread over your lips, you turned towards the fridge and opened it. The pizza box on the top shelf was impossible to miss, clearly just sitting there for you to find. Rolling your eyes at it, you opened it and reached inside to grab a slice. Your other hand that was still holding the can of cat food slipped a bottle of water out of a side drawer on the fridge’s door.

“Nero keeps ordering food,” you explained to Jax as you shut the fridge and turned back towards him. “And he weirdly keeps ordering too much for himself before leaving it in there and telling me to help myself to it the past few nights since I’ve been here.” 

Taking a bite of the cold pizza, you chewed it as you made your way back around the small kitchen island and over towards the exit. Jax watched you curiously, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets now and the ghost of a smile on his lips. You figured you looked absurd wandering barefoot in a red silk dress holding a bottle of water and a can of cat food in one hand and a slice of cold pizza in the other, but you didn't care.

“I'm aware he's feeding me on purpose,” you told Jax. “He isn't very subtle. So no, I'm not eating the cat food.”

Slipping out of the kitchen past him, you took a right towards the back alley exit instead of turning left and going back into the main room of Diosa. Jax's footsteps could be heard following after you as you went once more.

“Yeah, sounds like Nero. He's a good guy,” Jax replied as he followed you down the hall. “So what's it for then? The cat food?”

Pushing open the back exit with your shoulder, you stepped out into the warm night. Jax was right behind you, his eyes fixed on you as you set down the bottle of water and slipped the slice of pizza into your mouth to free your hands. You opened the can of cat food and set it on the half-wall structure right next to a small, empty mixing bowl from the kitchen that had already been sitting there. Opening the bottle of water in your hands next, the cold pizza still held between your teeth, you poured some of it into the bowl before putting the lid back on and setting the bottle aside. Then you hopped up onto the half-wall structure yourself and tore off a bite of pizza, chewing it as you focused back on Jax. He was staring at you with both of his blonde brows raised and his head tilted marginally to the side, clearly waiting for an explanation.

“Lyla brought me the cat food,” you began to explain. “Because I told her about the cat that hangs around out here.”

Jax quirked a brow at that, his attention shifting from you as he looked around the back alley, scanning around the dumpsters as if he expected there to be a cat sitting out in the open. You laughed as you brought the pizza back to your mouth, taking another bite and chewing it before continuing.

“He usually shows up when he hears me,” you told him. “Was feeding him shit from the kitchen the first night I was here. Except there wasn't much for a cat–though there’s a whole hell of a lot of fucking whip cream and chocolate syrup in there.” 

A soft huff fell out of Jax as he relaxed, leaning his back against the brick wall of Diosa near where you were sitting on the half-wall structure. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the inside of his kutte, slipping one out and placing it between his lips. After returning the pack of cigarettes to the pocket inside of his kutte, he reached for his lighter before raising the open flame to the end of his cigarette and lighting it.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” he said around the cigarette in his mouth. “Diosa isn't exactly interested in feeding cats.”

A small grin spread across your lips as you watched him take a drag off his cigarette, returning the lighter back inside of his kutte. Jax definitely intrigued you, whoever the hell he was as the Sons’ president. You didn’t exactly know a damn thing about his motorcycle club, especially since there were no Sons of Anarchy in Stockton. 

“Clearly. Not exactly the right kinda pussy,” you joked before taking another bite of pizza.

A bark of laughter left Jax as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, a look of surprise crossing his features. You only shrugged a shoulder at him as you continued to eat, not about to apologize for your vulgarity. You weren't on the clock pretending to be prim and proper anymore.

“You got a mouth on you, y'know that?” he pointed out, gesturing his cigarette at you. “Don't think I've ever met a woman who talks like you do.”

“Doesn't surprise me, honey,” you said, raising the half-finished crust of pizza to your mouth as Jax continued to smoke. “Don't seem like the kinda guy who's spent time with hookers on the streets. Especially not when you've got all this fancy pussy here.”

You gestured a hand at the building beside you as you finished off the rest of the cold slice of pizza. Jax definitely didn't strike you as the type of man who paid for sex, and he certainly didn't seem like the kind of guy who would ever notice some bitch working the corner. He probably had pussy falling into his lap all the time–you could guarantee that you were not the kind of girl he’d ever have run into normally.

Jax shifted against the brick wall of Diosa as he took a drag on his cigarette, something contemplative in his gaze as he studied you. But before he could respond, a black shape had hopped up onto the structure you were sitting on. The movement immediately drew his gaze, his blue eyes darting over to the black cat that had just appeared at your side. 

“There you are,” you murmured to the cat. Hand reaching out, you gently scratched him beneath his chin, smiling softly as his eyes closed partially from the attention. “Brought you the good stuff again tonight.”

Silently, Jax continued to smoke his cigarette, watching curiously as you pet the malnourished black cat. Your fingers lightly ran over the dark fur as the stray cat stepped across your silk dress and padded over towards the opened can of cat food beside you. Settling onto the half-wall, the stray lowered himself down and began to eat the food you'd brought him straight from the can, a faint purring noise just barely audible as he ate.

“You've only been here just a couple of nights,” Jax mused, his voice oddly gentle, “and you've already found and befriended a stray cat. Do you really come out here that damn much?”

Humming softly at the question, your attention remained on the cat eating beside you. “Few times a day,” you answered after a moment. “Especially at night. When it's quiet and empty inside after everyone has left, I come out here for a bit and just…sit.”

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“I dunno,” you answered with a shrug, finally returning your gaze to Jax still leaning against the wall. “Honestly, it feels weird as shit sleeping in that room all by myself. With that big, soft bed and those four walls. It's just…not what I'm used to. Not that I don't like it, don't get me wrong, honey,” you continued, not wanting to sound remotely ungrateful. “But it ain't the life I've known. Makes me feel a little, I dunno, out of place.”

A long pause of silence filled the space between you as Jax considered your words, taking another drag off of his cigarette. He expelled the smoke, his gaze still lingering on you with a hard to read expression drawn over his features. After a moment, he pushed off the wall and made his way towards you, flicking some ash off the tip of his cigarette as he walked.

“You feel more comfortable out here?” he questioned, brows knitting faintly together. “In a back alley?”

“Something like that,” you answered. “Just quiet as shit inside at night. It’s just…different.”

Jax nodded, drawing the cigarette back up to his lips for another drag as he sauntered over to where you were sitting on the half-wall. Coming to a stop just in front of you as he took a drag off his cigarette, his hand reached out towards the cat, his fingers gently running down the length of the cat’s back as he sat eating beside you. Your eyes were fixed on Jax’s fingers as they ran through the dull black fur, his touch appearing oddly tender for a man that looked like him. You found yourself wondering what it would feel like to have him run his fingers across you like that, with such tenderness and intention. No one had ever been that gentle with you before, but the thought of Jax specifically running his hands over your body like that had you shifting on the cement structure beneath you in your uncomfortable, borrowed silk dress. 

As quickly as the thought had come, you pushed it aside. It was a nice thought, but no man was going to treat you quite like that. Not with who you were and certainly not some biker outlaw.

“He have a name?” Jax asked, pulling the smoke from his mouth and tipping his head towards the cat as he looked back at you. “You give him one?”

A bitter scoff left you before you shook your head at the question, your mind returning to the present. You wanted to be able to give the poor thing a name. You desperately wished that you could take him inside with you and give him a home. To give him food and water and some love. To be able to keep him off the harsh streets. But you didn't have much money yet since you’d only just started working at Diosa, and you lived in a brothel. You had nothing more to give the stray. 

“No,” you replied softly, a sad smile on your lips as you watched the cat continue to eat. “Why name him? I can't keep him. Best I can do is this. Help him survive out here another day.”

Something softened in Jax’s eyes, you could see it from the corner of your own. He took another drag from his cigarette before he expelled the smoke, dropping the butt to the ground to crush out beneath his white Nikes. 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t give him a name, angel,” Jax pointed out. “Never know, maybe someday he’ll be curled up in your lap instead of hanging out by some damn dumpster.”

Sighing softly, you shook your head as your hand reached out, your fingers affectionately running down the stray’s back. “Yeah, maybe,” you murmured.

The sound of a rumbling engine drawing closer filled the night, the noise steadily drawing nearer. Beside you, the cat tensed, his black head darting up as he stopped eating. You quietly soothed the cat, running a gentle hand over his back again as the motorcycle made its way into the lot of Diosa. No doubt it was the prospect, Rat, who was going to be keeping an eye on the building tonight while you were here to make sure that Hades didn’t unexpectedly show up and cause problems.

Your eyes drifted over to Jax as the prospect cut the engine on his bike, silence immediately descending on you both. Beside you, the stray very cautiously returned to his food, but his eyes kept glancing over at the prospect in the parking lot near the front of the building.

“Told you nothing was gonna happen to me tonight, outlaw,” you said.

Jax shrugged, a crooked grin pulling at his lips when his focus returned from Rat to you. “Rather be safe than sorry, angel,” he replied. “Besides, I kinda like spending time with you. You’re not exactly what I expected.”

You couldn’t fight the small smile that slipped onto your lips. “Right back at you, honey.”

Jax took a few steps backwards, his gaze lingering on you as he did. He almost looked as if he didn’t want to go yet, that crooked grin still on his lips, but you knew that was absurd. Why the hell would he want to hang around with some ex-hooker? He probably had plenty of better options waiting for him somewhere else to occupy his time.

“Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow, angel,” Jax called back to you.

Shrugging a shoulder from where you were perched on the half-wall, the stray still cautiously finished up his canned cat food beside you. “Not like my ass has anywhere else to be.”

He chuckled at your response before he nodded and turned, though you caught the way he took a few steps in the direction of Diosa’s lot where his bike was parked before he looked back over his shoulder at you. He sent you a wink that had one of your brows slowly raising at his retreating back.

As you watched him walk away, your eyes curiously dropped down to the patch along the back of his leather kutte. Quietly, you studied the grim reaper holding the AK scythe that you’d seen on the back of all of their kuttes. You knew it was meant to be something intimidating and meaningful–a symbol for their club. But ever since you’d arrived at Diosa, it had started to feel more like a symbol of hope for you. Like your luck was finally changing.

Finishing his meal, the stray rose back up and turned towards you, lightly bumping his head in silent thanks against your arm. Your hand reached over, stroking the fur between his dark ears absently as you watched Jax swing his leg over his bike. The cat’s eyes lowered contentedly beneath your touch, his purring growing a bit louder now that it was just the two of you.

“Reaper,” you murmured, looking back down at the black cat. “What about that? You think that’s a fitting name?”

[pseudowho]

Thinking about Takuma Ino, who becomes a father so young when you fall unexpectedly pregnant. Thinking about the fear in your eyes, the shaking hands going to hold each other's, the positive test clasped between them. The way Takuma reassures you; "it's okay, it's okay, I always wanted to be a dad...sure, not this soon-- but we'll be fine. Better than fine, we'll be great."

The way Takuma goes for a walk that night, after you've cried yourself to sleep, crouching down in an alleyway with his beanie'd head in his hands, wondering how he could possibly ever be a good father. Wanting to marry you, to do things 'right', but afraid you'd think he only wanted to marry you because of the pregnancy.

The way Takuma arrives on his mother's doorstep (the mother who raised him alone, young, single) in the dead of night, pale-faced. The way his mother holds him as he cries and apologises at the dining room table, his face in her robed chest. The way she cups his face, and stares into his eyes; "we can do this, together, the right way. You're a good boy. Now be a good man."

The way Takuma learns to be a father, from his mother, who was his whole world. The way Takuma works himself to the bone, squirrelling money away, booking in with estate agents to go and view your first home together in a way that makes your hormonal heart clench.

The way Takuma's head hits the pillow, weary after working all night, then comes straight up again as he hears you vomiting in the bathroom, kneeling behind you to stroke your hair back, holding you gently round the waist on the tiled floor; "attagirl...it'll be better soon, right? Toughest girl I know. Doin' such a great job."

The way Takuma takes up embroidery, buying cheap plain clothes for the baby, because he can't afford much, but adding small artistic touches of beauty; a frog with a toadstool hat, a little trailing succulent vine, a shooting star.

The way Takuma is bright and excited; there for every scan, every class, every milestone. The way Takuma puts on a brave face. The way Takuma hides in the staffroom at work, his head in his hands, creaking under the weight of responsibility. The way he feels a strong hand clasp his shoulder, a beige suit, a blue shirt, a leopard print tie at the corner of his eye; "I know you're going to say no...but I'd like to buy a gift. For both of you. For the baby."

The way Takuma feels so ashamed for accepting help; the way a crib, a beautiful buggy, a snug and safe car seat, all gradually arrive at your new home. The way he tries to insist on paying Nanami Kento back. Nanami naturally refuses, pretends to be inordinately interested in his newspaper.

The way Takuma can't help but buy the baby a few beanies. The way you retaliate by buying an outfit that looks just like Ino's. He is thrilled.

The way Takuma's embroidery has advanced so well, he makes four little Auspicious Beasts to hang from a mobile above the crib.

The way Takuma paints beautiful, geometric, zany black and white shapes on the wall in the baby's bedroom; "They only see black, white and red at first babe. Neat, right?"

The way Takuma is pale throughout your labour, his eyes feverish, your pain so much harder than any battle he's ever been to. The way his tears hit him in a huge whooshing breath, a head-holding groan of relief when his baby son is placed on your chest, wet and crying, a little angry clenched face. The way Takuma rests his cheek on his arm at the top of your bed, gazing down and sniffling as his son holds his finger.

The way Takuma takes you both home, proud, woefully in love, still wondering how he's ever going to grow up and be a man, without realising he's already so much more of a man than so many others in this world.

Thinking about young dad Takuma Ino.

[elfven-blog]

Radiance

Summary: Criston feels anger when a man looks at you, he kills them when they dishonour you, what happens when you finally uncover that? Yandere!Criston Cole x F!Reader CW:MDNI, 18+ Only, BIG descriptions of violence, masturbation, flagellants (self whipping), PinV, yandere, Criston hates himself. Word Count: 2.7K

The first has been some third son of a nobody lord that had come to the capital in search of glory, or honour or some other such bullshit. No one had searched for him even his family hadn’t cared when he didn’t send a raven or return home, he disappeared and everyone thought him to be just another soul lost to the radiance of King’s Landing.

He hadn’t deserved such radiance anyway.

The second had been the baker's apprentice. That one was a shame to lose, his bread had been Criston’s favourite. But still, he had to go when he tried to capture the radiance too.

Criston could still feel the bones of the third. Not because he felt bad, no, because you had tended to them. He remembered the prickly feeling up his arms when he’d turned the corner and you’d been there, terror ringing through his ears as your own brow furrowed and your lips parted at the sight of him. Blood drenching his knuckles and pooling on the floor, you hadn’t asked questions. Just simply took his arm and led him to your chambers where you cleaned his hand and tended to the cracks in his knuckles.

He remembered every detail of your room, how the door of the wardrobe was slightly crooked and your blanket was too small for your bed. How you hang your nicer dresses on one side, the ones used with day-to-day service of the Queen and some that were clearly not as nice or expensive on the other side. How you had your family's flag stitched into your blanket.

That had been the very thing to get you both talking, you noticed him staring at the sigil and spoke to him in a soft smile. “Grandisons” was all you said and he turned to you with a raised eyebrow and a tilted head while you carefully cleaned at the cut on his knuckle. You hadn’t needed to tell him it was the Grandisons sigil, he already knew it. Some of them had marched with him, some of them were at court too and he already knew you were one of them. Had known it the moment he had seen you and heard you speak.

After that it didn’t take him long to have short conversations with you, it had started when you were waiting for Queen Alicent to finish her bath in the other room while you decided on which dress would be suitable for the sept. He’d leant over and whispered which dress would compliment Alicent’s hair the most, you’d smiled and picked it. Then it developed into something more, until there was a burning in Criston’s veins and he couldn’t believe he was actually speaking with you rather than admiring you from afar.

After that there had been more. None of them deserved your radiance to shine on them, and he made sure they wouldn’t dim such light. Of course he paid his penance too, the sound of the whip against his back deafens his ear with each flick of his wrist. His tanned skin lined with scars, old and new. Some of them reopened when he would serve his punishment, the blood would trickle down his back and pool at the floor until it was large enough to stain the front of his calves and only then would he stumble to his feet and clean himself.

But sometimes even that wasn’t enough. Take today for example, you’d been given a day off as Alicent was attending her husband which meant you donned clothes that were less modest. And here Criston kneeled, shirt discarded and the whip in hand as he painted the expanse of his back in the same red that bled from his lips as he bit at them. All the knight had seen was your collarbones and his mouth had run dry, his mind filled with nothing but how he could mark that clear skin and the way you’d gasp for him. 

His cock strained against his breeches, tears in his eyes as he begged whoever was listening to help him in some way. The whipping was useless as it numbed his back and the pain seemed drowned out with the sins playing behind his eyelids. 

Before he knew it, the whip was on the floor and his breeches were pulled down his thighs just enough that his hand could wrap around the base of his cock. Criston’s head fell back and he ignored how his hair fell into the scratches on his back, far more focused on the images in his mind.

The swell of your breast hidden beneath corsets and dresses, the time your hand wrapped around his wrist but he imagined it wrapped around his cock instead making him gasp as he squeezed his own hand around the base.

His breathing turned shallow as the sound of his hand around his cock filled his chambers, groans and pleading falling from his mouth each time his hand slid to the top and his thumb circled the head. Precum oozed from the slit and dribbled over his fingers, making it easier for him to pump up and down.

Criston’s other hand moved down his body to under his cock, cupping the heavy balls that sat beneath. He gasped as he rolled the sack in his hand for a moment, crying out your name like a prayer causing his hips to buck up.

It didn’t take long for him to fall apart, shuddering breaths and spit drooling down his chin as white painted the stones of his floor. The ache in his balls less now but the guilt in his heart rearing again.

He stood in front of the Queen’s chambers a few days later, knowing the Queen had travelled to Oldtown to see her brother. She hadn’t take you with her, choosing instead to take the nanny and one of her lady’s-in-waiting that had come from Oldtown. Leaving you to tend to the duties at King’s Landing.

Criston raised his hand to the large ornate door, taking a breath before knocking against it. He stopped for a moment when there was no reply, his hand lowering as he shook his head and turned around to walk away.

The heavy sound of the door unlocking and opening, your voice drifting into his ears but instead of your usual happy voice there was a stutter and the sound of sniffling.

“C-criston?” You’d never said his given name before, it made his heart stop as he turned to you. And that momentary glee flashed to anger and concern at the sight of you. 

Face puffy, trails of tears down your cheeks, the whites if your eyes turned red and your bottom lip jutted out in a tremble. He was infront of you within seconds, his hands cupping your face with a gentleness he awarded nobody else.

His brows furrowed in concern, thumbs stroking at your cheeks to clean up the tears as the corners of his lips turned “What happened?” he whispered, frown deepening as you shook your head and closed your eyes. 

It took everything in him not to force you to look him in the eye, instead he looked you over to see if there was anything physical and when he found it that same anger he felt for the lordling and the baker’s apprentice filled his veins. White hot and burning his hands “Who did this?” 

There was silence for a few minutes before he got a name from you and although part of him tried to quell that familiar urge to beat this man to a pulp in favour of comforting you. His sanity lost and he turned around to find the one who had dared leave bruises along you. The man who had marred your skin in purple and blues.

When that anger left and the black faded to the recesses of his mind, Criston found himself kneeling above what was once a face but it was now so broken and destroyed that they probably wouldn’t be able to tell who he was anymore. 

He had only stopped at the feeling of something warm against his back, his eyes moved to his fist to see two smaller ones wrapped around his. The once clear skin covered in the sticky red that dripped from his fists, and his ears picked up the panic cries of “Ser Cole! Criston! Please!” 

It was only at the panic in your voice that he could finally be Criston again. The look in your eyes made his heart squeeze, the panic and frenzy as your breathing turned shallow and your grip tight against his hand all made him stop.

“Please, Criston, please stop” and he did. His eyes softened and he managed to catch his breathing as his hands unclenched and covered yours instead. He brought your own hands to his lips so he could kiss each knuckle so softly.

“I didn’t mean for you to, to see me like-“ but Criston couldn’t finish his sentence before you were standing up and pulling him with you. His brow furrowed as he stumbled after you, your head turning around and around to make sure no one saw either of you walking away or the blood on Criston’s hands.

You led him to your own chambers this time, locking the door behind you and triple checking to make sure it was locked before you walked behind the screen in your room. Your hands shaking as you pulled the chain that released hot water into your copper tub. You weren’t afforded the big fancy room like the royal family but as a lady-in-waiting you were given a few luxuries.

Only the sound of flowing water filled your room for a moment, and you turned to choose which scent to add to the water. But you froze once it was added, a knight probably shouldn’t go around smelling the same as one of Queen Alicent’s ladies-in-waiting.

“Criston, you need to get undressed” you said when you peaked around the screen and saw him standing there, his head lifting up to look at you through those dark brown eyes that you were used to. 

Puppy dog you used to tease him as but how could you think of him like a puppy after what you just saw? Your eyes drifted to the blood splattered across his armour before you had to turn away again.

Through the silence the sound of metal hitting the floor was heard and then cloth as Criston undressed. You kept your back to him as you heard footsteps come closer before his voice cut through the stillness of the room in a low grunt.

Only once he was submerged did you finally turn around, the sight of his torso bared made you pause for a moment and forget what he had done before you cleared your throat and shook your head. 

You dipped your hands into the water and used it to wet his hair, Criston’s body going pliant as his head followed your hands until it rested on the tub and his eyes slipped closed while his mouth went slack.

Maybe he was still a puppy after all. The corners of your lips quirked up as you wet his hair and then took some of your shampoo to lather him with, fingers massaging into his scalp which caused you to falter when a moan slipped from his mouth.

Criston didn’t seem to notice, only frowning when you stopped but that was quickly wiped away when you continued again. Once his hair was clean, you moved on to his hands and turned the water red.

For a moment you considered telling him that he needed to clean his own chest but you are a sinner. And you cannot help yourself as you lather your hands in soap and bring them to Criston’s chest. He doesn’t pull away. Instead he groans and arches into your touch, so you continue to massage the soap into him.

Your hands dip lower until they’re beneath the water and you can feel his stomach flex beneath your palms. Your mouth parted as you watched Criston’s brow twitch and his teeth bite into his bottom lip. Both of you waited with bated breath as your hand sank even lower until your fingertips touched where you both wanted.

Saliva gathered in your mouth at how he was already hard and when you didn’t move, Criston’s hips moved up slowly forcing your hand to slide down until he nestled against your palm instead of your fingers. That’s all it took for your hand to wrap around him.

His eyes flew open and he took a sharp breath as his gaze landed on you, when you didn’t move he raised an eyebrow and rolled his hips up again which made you narrow your eyes. Your hand squeezed the base of his cock and his mouth dropped open in the most heavenly whimper.

You wanted more of those noises so you slid your hand up, enjoying how Criston gripped at the edge of the tub when your thumb circled the head. His cock heavy as it twitched in your hand, the water churning around him as he seemed to plant his feet and the way your hand slid up and down until he was oozing.

“M-more, more please” He begged so prettily under your touch, white mixing with red in the water the closer he got. Eyes fluttering and thighs shaking as his words slurred into whimpers and whines for you.

You wondered how he would react to your warmth and then the thought wouldn’t leave your mind. Criston made a noise of discontent as your hand released his cock but his eyes trained on you as you undid the layers of your dress, he couldn’t wait for you to be entirely naked before he was reaching for you.

Wet hands soaking your slip as he grabbed at you and pulled you close until you could stumble into the bath. His eyes rolled as you sank down onto him until he was snug in your tight cunt, your hands against his chest to brace yourself. Your cunt ached as he stretched you open, and you waited for a moment for that ache to go away.

Criston pawed at the wet dress around your hips as he waited for you to start moving and when you did, it was better than his imagination could conjure up. Your pussy fluttered around his prick as you rode him, his hips beginning to lift up to meet you.

Water sloshed around the tub, splashing out of the sides and onto your floor as your hips rolled against his own. Criston whined as his face buried into your breasts, mouthing at your nipple through the fabric making you gasp and grind harder onto him.

His fingers twitched against your hips before they started pulling your dress up and over your head, you heard the wet sound of it plopping on the floor and Criston groaned at the sight of your bare breasts. His hands groping at them “So perfect” he moaned as he peppered them in kisses.

Your hands curled into his hair, tugging it making him whine against you and his cock twitched inside of your pussy. Your grinding had slowed for a moment but as Criston suckled a nipple into his mouth, tongue lapping against the skin as he muttered around your breast.

“Gotta worship you” his hands squeezed your breasts moaning when you began to speed up your pace again, his one hand letting go to slide down your stomach until his hand rested just above your cunt, thumb circling at your clit and groaning when you squeezed around his cock.

Your head fell back, pleasure building in your veins and tightening your stomach as you gasped. It was all too much with his finger circling your clit, his wet mouth on your breast and you couldn’t get away from his cock. You could practically feel Criston grinning as your pussy spasmed around him, thighs tensing and squeezing at his own as your grip pulled at his hair until it stung his scalp.

Criston joined you in your orgasm, hands wrapping around your waist to keep you on his cock as he jerked inside you before rope after rope of hot sticky cum flooded your cunt. Leaving both of you boneless and panting like dogs.

The knight looked up at you with those puppy dog eyes as he nuzzled your breast, beard tickling your chest as he pouted “You’re not angry?”

You smiled, letting out a breathless chuckle as your hand petted his hair “How could I be?”

[the-s1lly-corner]

Crps but you're all having a sleepover

thats right baby we're returning to the 2010s creepypasta fandom for this one, where everyone lived in the slender mansion and shit obvious hc derailment from my normal posting but im feeling a little nostalgic </3 the way i portray characters is the same as i usually do it, theyre all just roommates now notes: reader is gn, platonic post really since its just talking about what everyone is doing in the mansion, admin is attempting to catch the energy of 2010s quotev/wattpad creepypasta x reader fics/quizzes... including only characters that were a "standard" for the mansion stuff, at least with the stuff i looked at! splendorman and nina are here though even though they dont fall under that, a LOT of parts are connected with each other and reference one another cws: none

SLENDERMAN

he usually doesnt like getting wrapped into the chaos that happens when everyone decides to spend the night in the common area of the mansion- and he never quite saw the appeal in sleepovers

if you need a break from the chaos inside, you can find him holed up in his office or out in the woods

if hes out in the woods and you go searching, it doesnt take you long to find him

or rather, it doesnt take him long to find you- he knew you stepped out the second your feet touched the grass

you keep each other company... its a quiet night out..

he wrongly assumes everyone is going to behave and that he doesnt need to check in on them

SPLENDORMAN

looooooves sleepovers, acts as a sort of "supervisor" to make sure no one gets hurt and nothing gets set on fire... hes... not very good at it since theres so many people and theres so much going on

attempts to orchestrate games so everyone can have fun together- and while some people do form a small group to play, most of everyone else is doing their own thing throughout the night!

hangs around you if you need a break from the chaos, talks to you to pass the time

checks in on you and everyone else to make sure everyone is having fun

he kind of gives off those "are you winning son?" dads but hes asking everyone is theyre having fun

JEFF THE KILLER

throwing knives into the fireplace trying to hit the same spot over and over, he offers you his knife to let you give it a try! nina might come by and join you two at some point!

loudly talks shit about some of the other people in the area... cough cough jane cough cough

its a miracle a fight hasnt broke out yet... but its definitely very likely

hes the one responsible for the music, and of course, its all his personal taste... but if you ask nicely and if its a good enough suggestion he might just let you play a couple songs!

at some point you two decide to go help laughing jack make snacks... more on that in his part!

JANE THE KILLER

doing her best to ignore the chaos around her as she sits with sally and plays with her... there arent many other creepypastas around that are in her age group, and jane doesnt want to make her feel left out

she does end up spending most of the night downstairs with everyone else but she does take breaks to step outside to clear her head, its way too loud and theres way too much going on

offers to let you come outside with her, if you want

you both kind of just end up talking outside on the porch before heading back inside

you try to help convince nina and sally to go upstairs to play, you both might just be successful!

wont be sleeping with everyone else downstairs, shes probably going to retreat to her room at some point to sleep

NINA THE KILLER

also sitting with sally, theyre making friendship bracelets! if you want you can join in and make some with her!

ninas an absolute pro at making bracelets, they easily outdoes everyone sitting in your group!

offers to paint your nails or experiment with some makeup on your face! doesnt push too hard though because shes all for a good time, doesnt want to make you feel uncomfortable

playing music against jeff's music, total genre clash that hardly sounds pleasant- perhaps the four of you can retreat to sallys room?

joins in on the snack making at some point in the night, and while she doesnt start a fire she does make something diabolical

think the monster and sour airhead strip thing

LAUGHING JACK

he does NOT know how to cook but he wants to give it a shot now that no one is in the kitchen

you guys probably start a small fire while trying to make popcorn, absolute chaos breaks out- jack is eating burnt kennels, you're trying to whack the flame out, jeff is cackling, and splendorman is rushing in to see whats going on and he nearly has a heart attack

prior to that jack is passing out candy and doing his own thing, you might be able to convince him to wind down and watch a movie with you and some of the others!

last one to fall asleep, if you can call what he does sleep... he... doesnt need to sleep, he just pretend sleeps

will instantly rush over if you offer him to join in on an activity youre doing, whether youre by yourself or with someone else

EYELESS JACK

pretty tame, all he's doing is streaming movies in the living room so theres something to watch- or more sound to add to the background

has enough sense to turn on subtitles so you know whats actually being said against whats going on around you

he would sneak you snacks if he had them, but he didnt think to grab anything thats friendly for you- that sort of thing doesnt cross his mind that often since he doesnt... eat normal people food

pro at tuning everyone else out, he might just end up tuning you out because hes so used to things descending into chaos

you both might end up having a conversation about anything at some point, really any topic is on the table

BEN DROWNED

one of the rare occasions where hes out and about rather than being confined to his devices- surely he will use his limited time to hang out with everyone in bulk!

right..?

you thought! sure he might come down every now and then to hang out- namely hang out with jeff or sally for a few minutes, but hes going to be spending a lot of his time in his room upstairs playing video games

and youre more than welcome to join him! just be aware that hes likely going to be using cheats and hacks!

love the idea that ben is friends with a lot of the other gaming creepypastas so theres a chance theyre also going to be playing with you guys, even if theyre not there in person

absolute insanity ensues, mostly due to all of the cheats

SALLY

wants to hang out with everyone and while shes not totally dismissed, she ends up spending her night on the floor drawing- but jane and nina do join her at some point to keep her company

over the moon when you come over and sit with her!! shes already made you a friendship bracelet, nina showed her how! in fact shes already made one for everyone!

do ghosts sleep...? if so youre probably going to have to take her to bed at some point, whether it be at her bedtime or if she simply falls asleep while you hang out

as soon as nina offers to do your hair or makeup, sally is immediately jumping up and offering to help

will probably ask for her hair to be done as well

MASKY

its either him or hoodie, but one of them is going to end up being the one to put out that fire laughing jack starts in the kitchen

cannot stand the excess noise so hes probably going to step outside to clear his head or go upstairs

its best to give him a few minutes before offering to join him, he needs that window of alone time to depressurized

basically plays babysitter next to splendorman, basically making sure nothing gets wrecked inside or outside

you guys dont really talk out on the porch, there isnt much to talk about

offers to walk with you through the woods before returning inside

you both kind of just hang around in the corner keeping an eye on everyone

one of the last ones to fall asleep as well

HOODIE

similar to masky in the "hes making sure nothing is getting too insane and nothing is being damaged", he might default to the couch with eyeless jack

switches between watching the movie thats being played and scanning the room to make sure everyone is mostly behaving

unlike ej, he did think to keep some small snacks on him and hes willing to share with you if you ask

will keep the good stuff/his favorite stuff for himself though

doesnt sleep in the living room, will eventually go back up to his room at some point to go to bed... with the exception of characters who outright dont sleep, hoodies 100% the one staying up the longest

asks you about the movie when it ends, if you know sign or have some way for him to communicate with you

TICCI TOBY

probably gets caught up in the energy- in multiple ways! i do think at some point hes going to get overstimulated and need a step back but for a while hes hanging around with everyone else and kind of leaning into the chaos

briefly joins jeff in the "weapon throwing" activity, naturally wants to use his hatchets

at some point you both kind of just sit on the floor in a corner and just talk about- literally anything

you look through stuff on your phone, probably leads to introducing him to a lot of internet stuff... he uh... isnt on the internet all that much

oh you guys are definitely taking random quizzes and stuff

nina might join you guys for a bit at some point- leads to you guys taking quotev quizzes and things get more... silly

[lura-valentine]

Choose Your Own Adventure!

MHA / BNHA Writing event

Poll winner: Dabi & Kaji – father and son alone at home. What could possibly go wrong?

Part 1: Start the Story

This will be an interactive writing event where you decide what happens next!

How does it work❓️

🐵 Character choice - completed 📖 First part of the story Post - Hereby concluded 🗳️ At the end of the story there is a survey on how it should continue 🌐 The majority decides what happens next 🔄 The cycle repeats itself until the story ends

–> To Rain's Profil #rain black character profil

–> To Kaji's Profil #kaji black character profil

Overview #lura mha/bnha CYOA_1

Vote start

Part 1 ● Part 2 ● Part 3 ● Part 4 ● Part 5 ● Part 6 (W.I.P.)

Start of the Event!

Warning: Alcohol for minors. Kaji is 16 and is allowed to consume low-alcohol drinks under EU law.

The small apartment was a retreat, a place Rain had carefully furnished. Three rooms, bright and spacious, with modern but not overly luxurious furniture. An open kitchen with a dark wooden counter, a living room with a deep sofa that often served as a sleeping place for one of them, and two bedrooms: one for her and Dabi, the other for Kaji.

The walls were painted in warm earth tones, with a few pictures hanging here and there – not many, but enough to give the room a personal feel. A small library filled one corner of the living room, Rain's books carefully sorted, while Dabi's possessions were mostly limited to his few clothes and cigarettes.

But the peace this place usually offered was disturbed today.

Rain was packing her suitcase, while Dabi leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching her silently. His gaze slid over her movements as she gathered her things. When she reached for her sanitary pads, he involuntarily grimaced.

"does it have to be this way?" he growled.

Rain turned to him only briefly, an amused expression in her deep red eyes. "What exactly? That I'm a woman? That I'm traveling? Or that you'll have to deal with Kaji alone for the next few days?"

He snorted and grimaced in annoyance. "The latter. Definitely the latter."

She laughed softly as she stuffed the last tube of skin cream into the side pocket of the suitcase. "He's your son."

"And that's the problem," Dabi muttered, his head sinking against the doorframe. "He's too much like me. If you're not here, this will end in chaos."

Rain shook his head slightly, undeterred by his doom and gloom. "You'll survive this. And if not, you can explain it to me when I get back."

Dabi curled his lips as if about to protest, but said nothing. Instead, he watched as she closed the suitcase with a satisfied nod. A dull feeling settled in his chest – he hated it when she left. Especially when he was left alone with Kaji.

Rain grabbed the suitcase and walked past Dabi with light steps, her perfume leaving a light, warm trail in the air. He smelled the sweet hint of vanilla mixed with something floral that always hit his nose whenever she moved. Her wings twitched slightly as she brushed past him, a silent echo of her own nervousness. Not because she had to leave, but because she has to leave her two big babies alone.

In the living room, Kaji sat, casually slumped into the sofa, his arms folded behind his head. The screen in front of him flickered; some documentary about wild cats was playing, but his gaze was half-heartedly fixed on it, as if his mind was somewhere else entirely.

Rain stepped next to him, and before he could react, she bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. A gesture she made throughout his life, no matter how old or tall he became.

"Behave yourself, Kaji," she said softly, with that loving undertone that both calmed and annoyed him.

Kaji grimaced and wiped his forehead demonstratively. "Tch, Mom, I'm not a child anymore."

She just laughed softly, stroked his black hair, and straightened up. Her red eyes studied him for a moment, as if trying to memorize his image, then she turned to Dabi.

He was still standing by the door, his posture seemingly relaxed, but she knew him well enough to know it was just a facade. A shadow lay in his turquoise-blue eyes, an unspoken reluctance to say goodbye.

Rain stepped closer, placed her hands on his cheeks, and pulled him down with a gentle tug. Her lips found his – warm, slow, sensual. She tasted of sweet heat, of something indescribable that always drove him crazy. Her fingers slid to his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, while his grip naturally wrapped around her waist, as if he wanted to hold her tight at that moment.

He was the one who finally broke the kiss, leaning his forehead briefly against hers as he spoke softly, "You could just stay here."

Rain grinned. "And take away your joy of behaving like a good father for once?"

He snorted, his grip on her waist briefly tightening. "Well. You chose it."

She pressed one last, quick kiss to his lips, then grabbed the suitcase and stepped to the door. "One week, Touya. That's all."

He watched her step outside, heard the soft click of the door as it closed. The silence that followed was strangely heavy.

Behind him, on the sofa, Kaji snorted softly. "Well, Dad. Now what?"

Dabi ran a hand through his hair. "Now I hope you don't piss me off so much that I throw you out the window."

Kaji leaned back with a crooked grin, his turquoise eyes sparkling with subtle provocation. "Sounds almost like a challenge."

Dabi grimaced, stepped deeper into the living room, and slumped into the armchair. "Well. If you really want things to escalate, don't hold back."

Kaji laughed softly, pulled up one leg, and rested his arm on it. "So, what now? We have the whole house to ourselves. No mom reminding you not to act like an ass. No rules. No boundaries."

Dabi casually lit a small flame between his fingers. "And that's exactly why I don't want any of this shit." He extinguished the flame and directed a narrow-eyed glance at his son. "What are you planning, huh? Throw a house party? Burn the place down before your mom gets back? Or just see how far you can go before I punch you?"

Kaji leaned forward, his gaze challenging. "Oh, I bet I can figure it out."

Dabi snorted. "Stop grinning like that. I see the same shitty face in the mirror every day, I know exactly what you're thinking."

Kaji shrugged. "I'm not doing anything. Not yet."

Dabi let his head fall back and closed his eyes for a moment. "Listen, kid. I really don't have a thing for your adolescent power play. So just chill. Watch your stupid documentary. Have a beer if you have to. I don't care. But if you annoy me, I'll make short work of you."

Kaji raised an eyebrow. "Oh, a beer, yes?"

"Don't tell your mother."

Kaji grinned broadly, stood up, and strolled toward the kitchen. "Already forgotten."

Dabi heard the faint clinking of bottles before Kaji returned with an ice-cold can of beer and sank back down onto the sofa. He opened it with a crackling hiss, took a long sip, and looked defiantly at his father.

Dabi narrowed his eyes at him before putting a cigarette between his lips. "Do you know what the problem with you is, Kaji?"

"Oh, please enlighten me."

Dabi lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. The smoke curled around his lips as he fixed his gaze on his son. "You're too much like me."

Kaji tilted his head slightly to the side, as if considering whether that was a compliment or an insult. Then he shrugged with a grin. "Well then, old man. Let's find out what happens when the two of us are locked under one roof."

– | –> Next Part

Let's start with harmless things.

To make things more interesting, feel free to give me some suggestions as to what else could happen.

If the suggestions are good, they will be included in the next survey! You can do this anonymously or simply write in the comments😊

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[littleslaywrites]

tiaras and tea parties | aaron hotchner 

summary: Hotch spends his day off with his young daughter. (girldad!hotch headcanon fic)

based on this request

word count: 1.2k

cw: girldad!hotch, pure fluff, no mention of a reader or the daughter's mother

When Hotch has one of his rare days off, he dedicates his time to his family. Jack had gotten to an age where he preferred time in his room or with his friends to hanging out with his father, but his daughter would never pass up the opportunity for a hang out when he was home. 

So this weekend, he’d promised a full Saturday dedicated to a daddy-daughter date. He’d gotten up early to make her breakfast. When he finished cooking, he stood outside her bedroom door, plate in hand. The room was filled with toys and stuffed animals that Hotch could never resist buying for her. The walls were adorned with clouds and rainbows, paintings Aaron had done before she was born, when he'd found out she would be a girl. She was wrapped up in her blankets, clutching the pink bear she’d had since she was a baby.

"Good morning, princess,” he says as he walks over to the edge of her bed.

“Morning,” she says, little fists rubbing her eyes. Her face lights up when she sees the breakfast.

“I know the chocolate chip pancakes are your favorite,” he says, setting them down on a tray table on her lap. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” she says as she digs into the pancakes. 

‘You’re welcome,” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He can’t help but smile at the chocolate that dots the corners of her mouth. “So, what do you want to do today? The whole day is yours.”

She thinks, chewing the pancakes. She throws out at least a dozen ideas before settling on the toy store, ice cream, and a tea party. He happily agrees, knowing he’d probably do anything she asked. 

When she’s finished with her breakfast, she insists on wearing her princess dress out. Hotch thinks it's only fitting, since she's his little princess. She twirled around once it was on, gazing at how the sparkles caught the light. She hands him her matching pink purse, and he takes it happily.

The two drive to the toy store first. She’s nearly buzzing with excitement as he takes her out of the car, setting her down on the ground. One of his hands carries the purse, and the other holds one of her hands. 

Once they get into the store, he lets her go off, trailing just behind her as she runs through the aisles. After about ten minutes, she pauses in front of a shelf, her eyes landing on a barbie in a purple gown. 

“You want that one?”

“Yes, please,” she says. One of her hands reaches out, and Hotch picks it up from the high shelf and places it in her hand. They check out, and get back in the car, heading to the ice cream shop.

Aaron gets one scoop of vanilla and one of coffee, and his daughter contemplates the various flavors. He picks her up, holding her so she can observe the colors in each carton. She decides on one scoop of cotton candy and one cookie dough, ensuring it’s topped with sprinkles. 

The two sit down on a bench outside, and his daughter swings her feet as she enjoys her ice cream. He’s got a smile stuck to his face as he watches her eat.

“Hey, Hotch,” he hears someone say. Turning his head, he sees Morgan approaching. “I was running some errands and I almost thought I hallucinated the boss man smiling.”

He laughs. He was more than aware he didn’t show this side of himself at work much, but he could hardly resist when he was out with his daughter. “Morgan, this is my little girl.” 

She waves to Morgan, smiling with ice cream on her plump cheeks. Hotch smiles proudly, happy to show off his darling whenever he had the chance. 

“Ah, there’s the gal who’s turned you soft.” He crouches down in front of the girl. “Hey, sweetheart. Enjoying your dad’s day off?”

She nods happily. Hotch chuckled at Morgan’s comment about going soft. He had to admit his little girl had brought a new gentleness into his life. He loved his firstborn son with his whole heart, but having a daughter had changed him. He’d always been protective, but his daughter had intensified that. He wanted to keep her from all harm, needing to see her smile at all times. He’d also become more patient and tender, and he realized the team must’ve noticed it, too. 

“We’re having a tea party later,” she says in between bites.

“You’re welcome to join, Morgan,” Aaron says teasingly. 

‘I’ll pass this time,” he says, laughing, “but thanks for the invite.”

Morgan gives her a high five before walking into the store behind them, and the two finish their desserts. They return home, and she places her new barbie in the dreamhouse she’d gotten for her birthday that year. 

“Tea party time?”

“Tea party time,” he confirms, sitting down at the small table in her room. It’s short, and his knees press against his chest as he sits in the chair. 

She busies herself with setting down plastic cups. Looking at the arrangement, she doesn’t seem quite satisfied. So, she goes into her toy chest, finding a tiara.

“For you, Daddy,” she says, holding it out. He takes it, placing it atop his head. He’s sure he must look ridiculous, a seasoned FBI agent wearing a plastic princess tiara while pretending to sip tea. He doesn’t care, though. He’d embarrass himself hundreds of times over if it brought a smile to his daughter’s face.

She insists on serving the “tea”, which was really just air and imagination. Nevertheless, her face is full of concentration. He almost laughs when he realizes it’s the same look he gets when he’s too focused on figuring out a profile. 

When she sits across from him, he pretends to sip the tea. “It’s delicious, princess.”

“I knew you’d like it, Daddy,” she says, big brown eyes shining. They’re his eyes, but they hold a hint of sweetness he’d lost until she was born. She’s very much a copy of him, with the same dimples and, occasionally, the same glare, but she somehow made all the features more adorable. 

The hours pass, and she tires him out from all the playing with dolls, watching movies, and board games. After sunset, she yawns tiredly. It’s a precious sound, one he’ll never get tired of, even though it means their day is over. 

He dresses her in her favorite pajamas, and settles beside her in bed, reading her a story. She didn’t ask for one, but he wanted an excuse to spend just a few more minutes with her. She snuggles into his side, one hand gripping his shirt as she listens to his voice. 

“Goodnight, princess. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Daddy,” she says, eyes shutting as she drifts off to sleep. He presses a kiss to her forehead, not wanting to get up just yet. 

Next to her, he felt at peace. The sleeping girl at his side was the opposite of the hectic cases he’d always get pulled away on. His daughter brought a stillness to his life, keeping him grounded when he got too caught up in work. He had made a promise to himself that he’d always find time for these moments, knowing she needed her father around as she grew up. Little did he know, it was him who needed the time together all along.

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Epilogue

dbf!joel x f!reader | WC: 3.7k | E 18+ mdni

Series Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. A wedding, father/daughter dance, tears, laughter, unprotected p in v (reader's on birth control and they're married now so...), Sarah calls reader Mom, mention of Ellie...

A/N: This is the end, folks! They are a real family now. I'm not crying, you're crying. As we all know by now, this fic was inspired by the song Fall Into Me. Another song dear to me inspired a particular scene in this chapter - Butterfly Kisses. Check it out if you'd like. **it always makes me cry, so beware** This story is dear to my hear and I'm grateful for all the love it has received. Thank you for joining me on this journey!

Moodboard by the lovely @mrsmando. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Eleven | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The autumn sun began its descent, painting the sky in beautiful shades of orange and red as it approached the horizon. Joel stared out the double-paned glass, too focused on calming his nerves to enjoy the rolling landscape of the vineyard below. Palms sweaty and heart thumping heavily in his chest, he tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, popping the top two buttons open to help him breathe.

“Cold feet, son?” JB questioned from the doorway before slipping fully into the room. Tommy followed behind him, anxious to see why Joel was taking so long.

Their presence startled Joel and he grimaced. “Not me,” he grunted, still struggling to inhale deep, full breathes as his heart raced.

“You sure about that, brother?”

Joel directed a scowl in Tommy’s direction. “I don’t have cold feet, but I’m terrified she does,” he admitted gruffly. He couldn’t meet the other men’s eyes, feeling vulnerable.

“I promise you, son. Spud does not have cold feet,” JB soothed. “In fact, she has much the same worry about you.”

“A match made in heaven, I’d say,” Tommy chimed in with a grin, bumping his shoulder against Joel’s.

“Come on, now. Get your asses down to the vineyard before Maria comes looking for ya. She’s on a war path, that girl a’ yours,” JB directed with a wink to Tommy. “I gotta get back to Spud, make sure she doesn’t run off to find you before it’s time. Meet again at the altar, fellas.”

The brothers watched your dad leave. Throwing an arm around Joel’s shoulder, Tommy led him toward the door. “The ol’ bastard was telling the truth, ya know. She’s terrified of you getting cold feet. Emily and Sarah have been calming her down for an hour now, insisting that you can’t wait to marry her. That girl loves you more than anything, brother.”

Joel beamed, eyes softening at the thought of you walking towards him in a flowing white dress, wildflowers clutched in your hand, and eyes brimming with tears of absolute joy. The mental image soothed his nerves more than any words could and he finally let Tommy lead him from the room.

Fresh air with the slightest chill met them as they exited the building. The soft hum of a string quartet filled the air while guests arrived and took their seats. A charming wooden arbor adorned with colorful flowers, delicate greenery, and a white sash served as the altar at which the two of you would become husband and wife.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Joel walked down the aisle, nodding at some of the guests as he took his place in front of the arbor. He stood tall, looking undeniably handsome in a slate gray suit sans tie, the top few buttons of the ruby colored dress shirt left open offering a glimpse of his tanned chest and a sprinkle of hair. Thick curls were swept back from his face, facial hair trimmed to perfection with that little heart-shaped bare patch visible.

Stepping up to his left side, Tommy smiled broadly at the small crowd. His longer curls were tied back neatly, and he tucked a few stray locks behind his ears and sent a cheeky wink to his woman sitting in the front row. Maria rolled her eyes playfully. Tommy watched Joel’s hand flex, fingers bouncing against thigh in a nervous tick he had since childhood and braced a hand on his shoulder. “You got this, big brother.”

Before Joel could respond, the string quartet began to play Pachelbel’s Canon and he stood taller, eyes locked down the aisle in anticipation of seeing you. Tommy rushed off to the side to take his place in the processional.

Sarah appeared from behind a row of lush, thick vines, looking like an angel in a white dress with a ribbon of material matching Joel’s shirt tied around her waist. The little girl insisted that her dress match yours, not understanding that, traditionally, only the bride wore white. But you didn’t give a hoot about tradition, helping Sarah to find the perfect white dress, adding the sash as something unique. The recollection of the joy on Sarah’s face when she tried on the dress for the first time made Joel’s heart melt.

Sarah danced down the aisle; face lit up with glee as she scattered rose petals along the way from a small wicker basket clutched in one hand. When she reached the end of the aisle, she spun in a circle, allowing her dress to flutter around her, and tossed the last of the rose petals into the air, much to the delight of the guests and her father.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah called, bouncing over to the place she was told to stand the evening before. Joel melted at the happiness on his daughter’s face, and he beamed back at her proudly. The little girl’s antics drew a soft rumble of laughter from the guests before all attention turned back down the aisle.

Tommy and Emily stepped past the vines next, looking resplendent in their formal wear, the shade of Emily’s dress reminiscent of a glass of finest pinot noir, matching the hue of Tommy’s dress shirt. Joel nodded at them as they approached, lips quirked in a half smile. His hand clenched at his side as he fought back the nerves again.

Moments later, the rest of the world fell away when you appeared, one hand clasped around your dad’s arm. The charming colors of the setting sun were no match for your beauty. Joel had never seen anyone or anything so perfect in his entire life. A crown of vibrant flower blossoms secured in your hair, the breeze rustled a few locks and the short train of your simple white gown.

Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you – not as you walked down the aisle to him, or when JB shook his hand in that ceremonial way of giving you to him, and certainly not as the officiant rambled through the ceremony. To put it simply, you mesmerized him.

He would almost regret it later, but the entire ceremony was a blur. The only parts he remembered included your face smiling broadly at him, the love in your glistening eyes as you repeated the vows you chose together, and the kiss after being declared man and wife.

“You’re stuck with me forever now, darlin’,” Joel’s gravelly voice rumbled in your ear after the sweet kiss.

Your tinkling laughter carried in air, spreading merriment throughout the vineyard. “Oh no, whatever will I do,” you whispered back.

“Can we go dance now?” Eager to get on with the fun part, Sarah interrupted your little moment.

“Of course, nugget. Let’s go dance!”

The little girl squeezed her way in between the two of you and having tossed her empty flower basket aside without care, slipping her hand in yours and the other in Joel’s to tug you both back down the aisle.

“Someone’s eager to get the party started,” Joel chuckled, lips spread in a jaw-aching grin as his little family made their way to the reception area. Your eyes sparkled back at him, full of happiness and love.

The winery boasted a lodge with an oversized deck suitable for your small celebration and enough rooms for the guest to stay the night. The path from the ceremonial area back to the lodge weaved through thickets of grape vines, plump fruit nearly ripe for the picking as the three of you ducked under and around the vines.

The vineyard was charming, a lucky find in your search for the perfect wedding venue. It was the only compromise Joel willingly made on a venue – he longed for a quiet, backyard wedding, but you insisted on something slightly grander in scale.

Maria and Tommy did a great job of recreating the ambiance of that night long ago in Joel’s backyard for the reception. Fairy lights were strung high across the deck, music playing softly as the guests mingled with cocktails and hors d'oeuvres in hand. High top tables were scattered about, centerpieces full of colorful hydrangeas.

It was perfect.

Wanting to save money, you kept the guest list to less than thirty people, mostly family and close friends, and opted for a bulk purchase of disposable cameras rather than springing for the cost of a wedding photographer. In addition, you insisted on a tier of cupcakes over an actual wedding cake, the icing matching the ruby red color of wine. Sarah and JB offered to put together an eclectic playlist for the winery to play through their sound system rather than put forth the cost of a band or DJ. All in all, it was an entirely family run affair that didn’t break the bank and you couldn’t be happier for it.

You and Joel mingled with the guests for a while before it was time for your first dance. Staying on theme, Joel had one request regarding your wedding song – it had to be Fall Into Me. You could hardly deny that one request, especially as the song meant so much to the both of you, practically telling the story of how you came together. Just like that night in his yard, Joel sang the words in a soft, quiet voice meant only for you, your bodies swaying side to side across the floor like you were the only two there.

None too soon, your dad led Sarah onto the dance floor, letting her stand on his feet as he danced around, just like he used to do when you were little. Maria and Tommy soon joined them, along with Emily and her husband. Before long, the party was in full swing.

You fought back tears during the father-daughter dance. Just as Sarah insisted on her dress matching yours, she wanted to dance with Joel during the traditional time. You were more than happy to have them join you. The battle against the tears was lost during the first chorus of Butterfly Kisses.

JB held you tighter as the first tear fell, brushing it away with a calloused thumb. “Feels like just yesterday when you would dance around on my feet like that,” he said, voice rough and quiet with the choke of tears in his throat. “Now here you are, grown up and married, with a family all your own. You’re not my little Spud anymore.”

Thank fuck for waterproof mascara, you thought as a sob escaped. “Dad,” you drew out the word in a sob, tears flooding your eyes, falling faster. You could barely get out the next words, throat aching and vision blurry. “I’ll always be your little Spud, no matter how old I am.”

Joel danced closer to you, checking in with a concerned look as you cried. “Darlin’, you alright?” His eyes darted between you and JB, the shimmer in the older man’s eyes matching his own. Dark eyes softened into molten chocolate, and he gestured to your dad to switch partners.

JB let you go after a bone crushing hug and a kiss to your forehead. “Take care of my girl, ya hear?”

Nodding solemnly, Joel shook JB’s hand. “Always.” He ushered Sarah into JB’s arms, letting them dance for the rest of the song as he pulled you close. Joel pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “I told you this song would make you cry, darlin’.  Let me wipe those tears away.”

Sniffling, your lips tilted up in a watery smile as he dabbed gently at your face. “I know, it always does. But it’s so beautiful, I had to include it.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Joel murmured, head nuzzled against yours. “Sarah already told me she’ll have this song at her wedding, too. I just know I’ll be crying like a god damned baby during the dance.”

That earned a laugh from you, the tears finally easing as the song ended. “Has she started planning her dream wedding already?” Joel nodded, a chuckle rumbling softly in your ear.

The evening carried on, dancing and drinking and laughing with everyone in celebration of you and Joel. You never really imagined your wedding as a kid, more concerned with being a tomboy and other, more important things. But you think now that if you had it likely would have imagined something exactly like this.

“Come on, Mrs. Miller,” Joel said when the lights finally dimmed, and the notes of the final song faded into the night. “It’s time to say goodnight to our guests.”

“Congrats, brother!” Tommy called cheerfully when you and Joel approached. His eyes large and glassy, a slight slur to his words providing evidence of a thoroughly enjoyable evening. “You two throw a great party. Do you need us to watch Sarah for the night so you can—”

“Alright you,” Maria jumped in, cutting the younger, drunker Miller brother off. “I doubt they want your drunk ass watching Sarah. Do you have someone lined up?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re good there. My dad is hosting a sleepover now that he is officially a grandpa. He’s insisting on being called Poppy just like I called my grandad.” You laughed at the memory of that conversation. JB was so excited to have a new nickname just for Sarah.

“Great! I would have been more than happy to help out but I’m going to have my hands full with this one,” Maria said with a gesture to Tommy where he swayed on his feet with a cheesy grin plastered on his face.

“Alone at last,” Joel whispered, carrying you through the threshold of the wedding suite. “You look beautiful in this dress, but I can’t wait to get you out of it.”

Any exhaustion you felt from the long, exciting day vanished at the smoldering look in your husband’s eyes. Your husband. Holy hell. Suddenly nervous, you slowly slipped the dress from your shoulders. Though you and Joel had been together more times than you could count, this would be the first time you had sex as a married couple.

Would his expectations be different? Should they be? Were you expecting something different? Should you? Fuck, why didn’t you think to ask Emily about this earlier?

“Darlin’?”

You glanced up to see Joel’s brows furrowed, realizing that you zoned out with your dress still around your hips. Warmth spread through your cheeks in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Joel. I’m… I’m a little nervous for some reason and got in my head about it.”

His lips tilted upwards as he stepped closer to help ease the dress down your body with gentle movements, knowing exactly what you needed to hear. “There’s no need to be nervous, sweetheart. It’s just you and me, like it always has been. We just have rings on our fingers now.”

And just like that, all worries fled your mind.

Once your dress was out of the way, Joel helped remove your bra and panties, leaving behind a trail of kisses on your dewy skin. His calloused hands, large but gentle, caressed every inch of bare skin before him, trousers growing tight as his body reacted to the sight of you.

His pupils dilated before your eyes and you pressed your lips to his, tongue teasing into his mouth to tangle with his in a searing kiss. He tasted of whiskey and chocolate and something so uniquely Joel, and you drank in the taste like a starving woman.

Still wearing far too much clothing for your liking, you ripped open his dress shirt, sending the buttons flying across the room. Oops. Manicured nails scratched down his bare chest, along his belly, until your fingers met the confining layer of his pants. After watching you fumble with his belt for too long – which, in reality, was only like two seconds, you swear – Joel brushed your hands aside and, without breaking the kiss, yanked the belt open and practically ripped his pants open to free his aching cock.

“What a lucky wife I am,” you purred, breaking the kiss, as your hand grasped his length. Your thumb traced over the bulbous head, smearing the precum pooling there, before bringing it back to your mouth for a little taste. “I get to experience this for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t tease, darlin’,” he growled low in his throat. “Besides, I’m the lucky one. I have the sexiest wife.”

Pants and boxer briefs shoved to the floor, Joel ripped off his socks and swept you right off your feet. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips as he walked to the large bed. Kneeling on the mattress, he never let go as he settled you on your back.

Already dripping for him, and too anxious to have him inside you already, you didn’t need any foreplay to be ready. His cock slid, with torturous slowness, inside your warm walls with the slightest nudge of his hips. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re so tight,” he breathed against your neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin as he fucked into you.

A pleasurable burn spread through you, his cock splitting you open. “Mmm, so good. Fuck me, dear husband. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“As my wife wishes.”

Hips snapping, Joel set the perfect pace to bring you to the edge, heels digging into his ass with each powerful thrust. Fingernails scratched down his back, piercing the skin as he brought you to the peak, the orgasm causing your back to arch and muscles to spasm.

“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing my cock like a fuckin’ vise. Gonna make me come too soon.”

The orgasm seemed to last forever, pleasure washing over you in waves until you trembled beneath Joel. “It’s never too soon. Come for me, babe,” you gasped when the ability to speak finally returned.

Joel’s thrusts became sloppy near the tail end of your climax, and he spilled inside you as soon as the words left your mouth. His ragged breaths tickled your ear, sending gooseflesh down your body from neck to toes. Your name fell like a prayer from his lips, praising you for how good you made him feel.

“I love you, Mr. Miller,” you said, peppering his handsome face with kisses when he slipped from you and fell to the side with a heaving chest.

“And I love you, Mrs. Miller.”

You don’t know where either of you found the energy, but you made love twice more that night and once again in the morning. After each time, you admired the sparkle of the rings adorning your left hands, the jewelry a tangible symbol of your commitment to each other in this life and the next.

“Mom?” Sarah asked from where she sat doing homework at the breakfast bar while you made dinner. Joel would be home any minute.

“Yeah, nugget?” You grinned, heart swelling every time she called you that. You lost count in the year since the wedding, but Sarah calling you mom would never get old. It was a treasure you never thought you’d experience before you met Joel.

“Do you and Daddy want more kids?” At twelve years old now, Sarah’s voice lost that babyish tone you used to love. She looked and sounded more grown up each day, but she was still her Daddy’s little nugget.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. We’ve talked about the fact that I don’t want to have a baby and he doesn’t want one either. But I wouldn’t be opposed to adopting a child in need, if he wanted to. I’d have to talk to your dad about it though.”

Sarah went quiet while you stirred the pasta and checked the sauce. It was nearly ready, just another minute or two.

“Why do you ask, kiddo?”

Sarah looked up from her work to meet your gaze and shrugged her shoulders in a way that told you she was searching for words to explain herself.

“I dunno. I guess I always thought it would be cool to have a sibling, but then all my friends that have one or more always complain about them.”

Tilting your head to the side, you dug a little more. “So, you’re just curious?”

Dark puppy eyes gazed up at you again. “Yeah… well, no. There’s…” She paused as the timer went off and you drained the pasta and mixed it into the sauce.

“There’s what?” you questioned, placing the large bowl of pasta on the table along with a plate of warm garlic bread, hearing Joel’s truck pull into the driveway. “Come sit and tell me.”

Before Sarah could begin, Joel walked in and kissed you both hello. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink before joining you at the table and you both listened with rapt attention as Sarah explained her friend’s situation.

“You know my friend, Ellie?” she asked, to which you both nodded.

“The snarky one in the grade below yours? Yeah, I like that one,” Joel replied around a mouthful of food. “What about her?”

Sarah grimaced at her father’s poor table manners, earning a smile from you before she continued. “Well, she’s in foster care but her foster parents are awful. They drink a lot and don’t care about her. She ends up hiding out in the detached garage all the time, even staying there overnight just to get away from them.”

“That’s awful, nugget. I’ll look into her file on Monday, see if there’s anything I can do,” you replied. You didn’t realize she was in foster care. As a fifth grader, you haven’t had her in class yet.

Joel looked at you with big cow eyes, brows arched in question. You could practically hear him thinking – he hated the thought of a child suffering in any way. Before either of you could say anything, Sarah spoke up again.

“Well, I was hoping maybe we could adopt her, and she could live with us,” she said hopefully. “You know, since you don’t want a baby and I still want a sibling. It’s like a compromise or whatever.”

Turning to Joel, you could see the same hopefulness in his dark eyes, and your heart thudded in your chest. “Why don’t you invite her over for a sleepover this weekend so we can get to know her a little more. And in the meantime, we’ll look into what we’d need to do.”

Dinner forgotten, Sarah bounced in her seat and asked for your phone to call Ellie. “You guys are gonna love her, I promise!” Bounding away from the table to call her friend, Sarah stopped short at the edge of the room. “Oh, Ellie loves dogs. Do you think we could adopt one of those, too?”

fin

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[n30nwrites]

Chapter 6 - Bow

Good Doggy Masterlist

Beta Editor?? - @letmelickyoureyeballs

Warnings: None

“Ah'm not complaining dathúil.” Soap looks you up and down, he seems to enjoy staring at you. You don’t understand why. It’s just your partially clothed body, you didn’t dislike the staring, but you didn’t love it either. You just didn’t care.

You couldn’t.

“Why are they in my house?” You question, walking behind the couch where Maya sat. They were across from here at the other couch, fully dressed like they were about to go on a mission. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together when you saw Maya.

“Oh son of a-”

“So you’re Chimera?” Price interrupts, saying your code name, and he isn’t better than the youngest member of the task force. “Is that why you moved here? To spy on us?”

“First off-”

“Be nice.” Maya interrupts and you want to remind her that the faster you say this the faster you can get dressed. But you don’t, instead you stare at her. 

You continue, “First off, I don’t care about you. I’ve already said that. I don’t have to explain myself to you. Second off, why the hell are we teamed up with you guys?”

“Laswell paid us well.” Maya said, grabbing at her phone, “Had to let KorTac know though.” Maya and you had met at KorTac after your last relationship ended horribly. You had to get away from your old military company, and KorTac seemed desperate to have you once they saw your file. Maya was your partner from the beginning, her code name was Silver. 

“I can never have a good vacation.” You groan, “Why the hell did you accept it?”

“We’re trying to find intel to go after Graves.”

You shut up, staring at Maya. Phillip Graves was a name banned from your household, like that one wizard from that one wizard movie. It had been a year since you had seen him, but the memories come rushing back, everything that he did. You nodded your head, accepting that once again you would go back into the field.

“How do you know Graves?” Gaz asks. 

“None of your business.”

“You seem to love saying that.” Ghost says, and you decide not to respond. Instead you open up the first box you brought into the house, which was filled with your usual uniform. Grabbing it, you walk yourself into the closest room, which happened to be an unused bedroom, and got ready.

Ghost is the first to stand after you leave, he stalks around the house, gaining information on the two residents. Despite only moving in a few days ago, there seemed to be some decoration items hung up. Pictures of Maya and what Ghost can assume to be her family, he can see her timeline through these pictures. Up until high school, she didn’t have a metal arm and then some time when she met You, she did.

He questions what happens, and knows Maya won’t be as stuck up as you, she’d probably answer. But he didn’t want to ask.

Instead he looked around.

The first bedroom he entered was painted a light purple, it had a multitude of boxes stacked up inside the walk-in closet, which still had its lights on, and a mattress just sitting in the middle of the room. He would guess it was Maya’s, not because of the color but because of the multitude of photos on the wall of her and other people, most of them having you.

The only information he could gather from her bedroom was that she graduated from Palons, the Academy of Alchemists. She seemed to do well from the multitude of medals she had hanging from her diploma.

He left the room, pausing as he heard a door open. Ghost waited a few seconds before continuing his search. Despite being a large man, his footsteps were silent. He opened another door, finding a bedroom with red walls, with a make-shift bed of blankets and pillows. The room was already a mess, boxers were lying on the floor along with a box of knives. Instead of a large walk-in closet like Maya had, there was a smaller one with a dresser inside. 

What was on that dresser was what trapped his attention.

It seemed to be a snowglobe, at least the shape of one but no fake snow in sight. Instead, there was a singular figure, standing on ground that was painted to look like what he could guess to be lava. It was kind of childish, he wouldn’t expect it from you, but to be fair, he didn’t know you.

Just knew that you were a huge prick. One that was tied to him.

And Soap, Gaz, and Price. But still, him. Ghost didn’t feel special being tied to you, frankly if you dropped dead on this mission he might just start believing in something again. It’d be an act of fate, unlike meeting you.

He hears a familiar click of taking a handgun off of its safety. His grip tightens on the globe as he puts his hands to the side. “Put it down.” He recognizes your voice immediately. He knows you're angry but somehow it’s dimmed, like a sheet was covering the part in your brain that could make you angry. Instead you just seemed annoyed. You don’t seem to show much emotion besides that. He hates it. He’d rather you get angry at him, yell and hit him. At least it showed that the stuff he was doing bothered you. Enough for you to think about him. “Place it on the dresser, do not drop it.”

He does not understand why you care about this toy but he does as you say. Putting it down and turning around slowly. He’s almost sure you would kill him. 

You’re dressed in uniform. A thick black shirt, with a pocket sewn to the left side of it with KorTac’s signature Wolf logo. There are items stuffed in it, but he doesn’t know what, which puts him on edge. The issued KorTac vest, black with the flag of your country of origin on the chest region. Along with thick black jeans that had knife and gun holsters wrapped around your thighs. Knee and elbow pads like the rest of them, and a black balaclava, but unlike him, your eye paint was a deep red.

Similar to dried blood.

Fingerless gloves which is strange but he wouldn’t comment on it, he can only count 3 weapons, two knives and the gun in your hand, obviously you didn’t care about your safety if you thought that would protect you. Your boots are black with gray laces, seeming to have dirt all over the laces yet the boots were relatively clean. You didn’t have your headgear in hand, but you did have a mic connected to your vest.

Your chosen weapon, AKA your sidearm, was a Beretta M9. You put it in one of your holsters, pointing at the exit. And so he leaves.

All he can think about is the two-headed dog figurine inside the snow globe, and how he could’ve sworn it moved.

NEXT

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[kiwiikato]

mommy’s here // kenji sato x reader

Chapter Twelve

masterlist

note! AT BOTTOM!!

a giant aircraft flew through the air, the tail of the vehicle turning around as stands came out, creating a soft landing. a vertical door came down, showing the five of you together, like a family.

you walked in the middle, between professor sato and kenji, your hand in the tanned males arm as he gently guided you down the slanted walkway. you smiled at kenji quickly, turning to listen to his dad as he spoke.

"i thought it would be good for all of us to get out of the house." he soft voice spoke as you both trailed behind him, the view capturing your eyes. it was gorgeous to say. a soft golden hue hugged the grassy mountains, their trees casting shadows that made the view almost look unrealistic. it was like staring at a painting, only this time, it was all in front of you.

you couldn't help but gasp seeing the giant body of water glimmer under the soft rays of light. the sight would never bore you, no matter how many times you've seen it. "it's exactly the same" ken said in awe, feeling equally as captivated. you turned around to hear emi's chitters of excitement as she stared at the life around her.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

a traditional shoji door slid to the side as professor sato let you in. "haven't been in a few weeks" he grunted as he pushed the sliding door open. you smiled at him, helping him open it how you usually would. it was a sad thought but he was getting older and sadly weaker, so you tried to help him as much as you could when you both worked together.

"thank you y/n." he said smiling, to which you nodded with a smile as you flickered the lights to the room on. kenji walked in, his eyes filled with awe stepping into the all familiar room. "so many great memories here." the words left his mouth as a breathy whisper, letting nostalgia course his veins.

"i repurposed it into a bit of a lab after you moved away." professor sato spoke up, walking slowly to the map that hung on the wall. you quickly rushed to him, placing your arm around his waist to help. he smiled at you, turning back around to walk to the map with you.

kenji stared at the map on the wall, his fingers grazing the post-it notes that stuck on it. pins and threads of red yarn stuck on the map, with photos of his mother hanging around. "you know your mom, she could never sit still." he said, an audible sound of love lacing his words.

the tanned male turned to his dad, "you did search for her." he couldn't believe it. he had grown to believe that his father stopped looking for her after she disappeared. that just maybe, just maybe, his dad actually gave up on her. his heart ached slightly, remembering how he yelled at his dad when they first saw each other.

he was so stupid. he felt stupid. how could he accuse his own father of giving up on his mother? on his wife! the literal love of his life!

he snapped himself out of his thoughts, taking in the sad look in his dads eye. "yes... god, i miss her. her heart, her passion for life, she showed me what it means to be human." his voice cracked. god he really did miss her. what could he do not knowing where she was. he turned to the side, facing the map with you helping his stability.

his hand reached out for her photo. she looked so happy. one could mistake her for an angel. and that's what she was. to him at least, that was his angel. he very reason for life. he felt your hand lightly squeeze his shoulder in reassurance, to which he squeezed back with his own. he was thankful he wasn't alone all those years kenji was abroad.

"i-im so sorry, dad." kenji leaning dad and placing his hand on his dads other shoulder. you smiled seeing professor sato take his hand back and place it on his sons. they had gradually begun to get closer over the duration of taking care of baby emi. it was heartwarming.

you slowly walked out of the room, letting the two of them reconnect. it had been a while since they both had time for one another, to be father and son. not instructor and student.

you feet lightly tapped as they walked towards the kaiju, watching as she hopped around in excitement. mina flew around her, making her play almost a game of chase. "mind if i join you both?" you ask, making emi run to you. "hi emi, how's my baby doing? are you enjoying yourself?" you ask her as she rests her head on your small palm.

you couldn't help but laugh at the size difference between you. mina floated down to you. "we can play a game of catch, it appears to be emi's favorite." at the sound of catch, emi opened her eyes as she ran to the empty patch of grass up ahead.

"a game of catch sounds amazing!" you say, you walk over the small bag of baseball equipment that kenji brought for moments like this. picking up the ball, a regular sized bat, a glove, and even dragging emi's bat over, you handed the items amongst the three of you.

mina took the glove in her mechanical arm as you passed emi her giant bat. you kept the baseball in your hand, deciding that you'd be the one to pitch it to emi, with mina behind to catch the ball if the adorable kaiju were to miss.

you all took your positions, emi's tail slightly wagging from excitement. you couldn't help to giggle as you launched the ball over to emi, now waiting to see if it was a hit or strike.

emi missed the ball by a smidge, making her slightly sulk as mina caught the ball in her glove. you called out to her. "it's okay baby! just try it again, you got this! show mommy how much of a good player you are, just like daddy!"

she cheered up, lifting up the bat as mina threw the ball at you. you caught the ball, holding it in the palms of your two hands. "ready?" you asked emi as she chirped back in confirmation.

"here it goes!" you yelled out as you launched the ball towards her. it almost felt like slow motion when you watched desperately, nervous to see if she'd hit it this time. a loud smack was heard as emi's bat smacked against the white ball. the ball flew towards you, making you yelp as you jumped away to avoid getting hit.

almost as luck was on your side, an arm circled around your waist, preventing you from falling to the side as their other hand caught the fast paced ball in their grip. you looked up to see that kenji had been the one to catch you, making you sigh in relief.

"you okay y/n?" he asked with worry in his eyes when he saw how fast the ball was flying to you. she was lucky to have had him come out of the room with his dad at the sound of a clang coming from emi's baseball bat.

"yeah!" you slightly yelped out in shock. he chuckled, glad to see that you were okay, although even with a bruise of mark on your face, he'd still find you beautiful in his eyes. "atta girl. here let me help you."

kenji smiled as he pulled you more upright so you could stand on your own. you stood straight, your ankle suddenly aching from applying pressure. it wasn't bad, but it wasn't comfortable and you'd knew it would get in the way of you being able to play.

you slightly winced but kenji had caught on to the slight stumble you had as you tried walking it off. "nope nope, not on my watch, come on." you almost yelled when you felt your body lift off the ground, but saw that it was only kenji.

he turned towards his dad, "dad! i'm gonna treat y/n, we'll be back in a bit." his dad nodded as he turned to watch mina and emi play. you couldn't help but grumble in annoyance at having to leave the game, you knew you'd have to make it up to emi soon.

kenji made his way up to the aircraft you all had came in. he walked with ease up the ramp, surprising you with how easily he had carried you. his eyes linked with yours, giving you a small smile as his footsteps tapped at the metal flooring.

it wasn't long till he found a restroom, softly setting you down on the toilet seat so you wouldn't apply pressure to your foot while standing. kenji bent down to the cabinet in the restroom, pulling out a first aid kit. "here it is." he mumbled to himself as he pulled out a roll of bandages and ointment.

he turned towards you, rolling up the bottom of your jeans to see a cut on your leg. he winced seeing the redness and the slight blood that pooled from it but quickly grabbed a rag and wet it. using the wet rag, he wiped away lightly at the cut to clean it up.

you sighed at the feeling of the wet rag, bringing some comfort to the area. you watched as he twisted the bottle of ointment open, applying some on the tip of his finger. he softly rubbed the ointment onto the wound, making you smile.

"you remembered." you said looking down at him. he smiled up at you. "yeah i did, i had to remember if i wanted to help you properly with your wounds the way you helped me with mine that one time." he said as he began to wrap at your ankle with the bandages he took out, making it tight but with not too much pressure.

"thank you kenji." you say smiling getting ready to get up. "of course, anything for my girl." you couldn't help but feel your face heat up, a noticeable blush on your face for him to see. he chuckled seeing you red, making you even more nervous. 'curse how good his laughs sounds'.

you nervously looked around, trying to avoid becoming even more flustered cause of the man in front of you. kenji looked back at you seeing you looking the other way, he couldn't help but smile at how you avoided him.

how badly he wanted to kiss you. it had been a little while since he did. the both of you had been busy with his dad around and trying to train emi, it felt like moments of privacy hadn't happened in a while for the two of you.

before he knew it, he was in front of you, the palms of his hands turning your face look at him. your face was red as your eyes slightly widened at him suddenly appearing in front of you. his fingers delicately tracing at the outlines of your cheeks, pressing each mark.

"hi," you awkwardly said, mentally facepalming at your words. 'hi?? seriously??'. kenji smiled still, snapping you out of your words. "i've missed you." you heart melted, he was always so sweet with his words, it was easy to become flustered.

"i've missed you too. i'm right here." you said reaching up to hold onto his hand that held your face. "i know, but i've missed this, having privacy with you. i feel like we barely have enough time with one another, just me and you." he softly says, you smile now knowing that you weren't the only one feeling that way.

"i've missed that too. i love all the time with emi and your dad, but i miss those times we had just for ourselves, but it's okay, cause we'll find time when we come back." you say smiling at him softly.

he was silent for a second, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes. you couldn't help but blush feeling his stare. "i want to kiss you so bad." he suddenly blurted out. his tan skin held red on his cheeks, making you smile at how shy and bold he was. you were the same way either way.

"i never said you couldn't." you whispered back making his eyes widen. it didn't take long till you felt his lips slam against yours, his hands pulling you closer by your neck to instantly deepen the kiss. he was desperate. it was obvious as day that he had missed the feeling of your lips on his. but gosh did you feel the same.

your hands found his hair, messing up his neatly brushed locks. kenji moved more forward, kneeling on his knees to reach your height as you bent down as close as you could to him.

the kiss was needy, like an animal that hadn't eaten in weeks. he was craving more even while he still kissed you. kenji pulled away, catching you off guard as his lips found your neck, playing soft kisses to every inch of it. a gasp escaped your mouth as you felt him bite down, his tongue licking at the indent right after making you shiver.

kenji suddenly separated from your neck, standing up off the floor. you stared up at him, watching what he was going to do. strong, firm hands grabbed you as he threw you over his shoulder, causing you to shriek slightly as the sudden movement.

"k-kenji?!" you yelled out, confused. he was silent, opening the door from the restroom as he moved quick through the hallways. his hand found your ass, grabbing a handful with a squish as you turned red from his sudden boldness. 'oh god what did i get myself into'.

it wasn't long till he stood in front of a door and opened it. he walked it throwing you on the bed, being gentle to not hurt your injured ankle. you gasped when he followed in trail, crawling over you.

like a fly in a web, he hunched over you like a spider about to eat their prey. "can i? please." was the only thing that left his mouth as he stared down at you. you could only nod as kenji's lips found the crevice of your neck. his tongue trailed down, slightly sucking like he was trying to find something.

and he found it. a soft moan left your lips as you closed your eyes in shock at the sensitivity of your sweet spot. he couldn't help but smile at the sweet sounds of pleasure you made, it made him excited.

he quickly captured your lips in his, his hand running down the side of your torso, gripping at your waist to keep you under him. your hands attacked his disheveled hair, hearing him groan from small pulls at his locks.

kenji rose up, pulling you up with him as he flipped the two of you in bed. he now laid down with you hovering over him. grabbing you by his neck, he pulled you down to him, giving animalistic licks at the side of your neck, only to nibble at the lobe of your ear slightly.

kenji's hands found your ass, his thumbs kneading at your skin through your shorts. "kenji? what about your dad?" you asked nervously, worried about taking a long time. "oh god, i forgot about them." he instantly sat up, you still in his lap. "i hope you don't mind, next time?" he asks making you laugh.

"next time then." you say smiling. kenji gives you a quick kiss on your lips, now helping you get up off the bed carefully so you don't fall. the both of you walking back, slightly embarrassed for taking a little while longer than planned.

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note! GUYS IM SORRY - im not trying to tease you all or anything, or uh c***block you all but i'm just so hesitant to write more steamy scenes. trust me i am not innocent at all, i just worry about younger readers seeing that and ruining themselves.

before anyone starts saying they're not pure at all at a really young age - some of you guys are still minors. it's my responsibility as the adult here to look out for you all. besides i feel like a scene here is just too out of nowhere, not enough privacy or the chance to throw this into the story line without messing it up a bit.

now how do you all feel about me just giving you guys some 'action' more later on? as a separate chapter, it's tied to the story BUT it's barely mentioned at all so it could be separated for those who don't really like this type of content?

TAGLIST — CLOSED!

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[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 34 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley convinces you to order a new bed by using an interesting tactic. And when you realize you were Bradley's first for something, you're already excited to find out if you can be his first again. Because he was yours, and with one simple word, Noah had you wrapped around his tiny fingers even more.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, spanking, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

After work on Friday, Bradley picked Noah up on his way home. Casey tried to talk his ear off when he arrived at the daycare center. She seemed pleased that Bradley was alone today, and she pulled the clipboard away from him with a smirk when he tried to take it from her to sign it. 

"I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner with me tonight? Or another night?" she asked, and Bradley just stared at her. "Us and Noah, of course."

She was probably the same age as you. Maybe he'd been giving Casey some sort of hope when he'd wrapped his arms around you yesterday. But even if he were single, he wouldn't go for someone who worked where Noah went to school. "I have a girlfriend, Casey. You've met her several times. She's on my approved list of people who are allowed to take Noah home."

With a sigh she set the clipboard down in front of him. "I didn't know it was serious."

"It's serious," he promised as he scribbled down his name on the correct line. And then without another word, she went to retrieve Noah for him. It was unbelievable. Suddenly, because of you, Bradley was appealing to younger women. And you were obviously appealing to everyone, including Beau Simpson. Every time Bradley saw him at work, he smirked at the admiral. That man wanted you that night at the bar, but you were Bradley's. He could get hard for you just thinking about it. 

"Daddy!" shouted Noah as he ran across the small lobby. 

"Hey, Bub." Bradley scooped him up and got a kiss.

"Where's Princess? I like it when you pick me up together."

Bradley shifted his gaze to Casey as he said, "Let's go home and get her."

"Do you think she made ants on logs for me?" Noah asked as Bradley carried him outside.

Bradley kissed his son and said, "I think there's a good possibility."

Before he started the engine, he texted you and let you know that Noah was asking for you and for his favorite treat. Your response left him aching to get home as quickly as possible.

My Princess: Of course I made him some ants. I know what you boys like. Dinner is nearly ready, too. Can't wait to see you Daddy.

When he finally rushed in the front door in his flight suit with Noah in his arms, you were there in the living room, ready to greet both of them.

"Princess!" Noah gushed, climbing from Bradley's arms to yours. "I made you a painting of a dinosaur in a crown."

You kissed his cheek and said, "I absolutely need to see it right now."

So Bradley pulled it out of the backpack with a smile on his face, even though you'd completely ditched him in favor of kissing Noah. Because he loved the way you interacted with his son. 

You gasped when he held it up and said, "Noah! It's perfect! Let's hang it on the refrigerator." It actually just looked like some green and purple blobs, but you took it from Bradley's hand anyway as you whispered, "Hi, Daddy."

"Hey, Baby." Bradley had a lot of things in mind for you, but none of them were really appropriate at this moment, so he just gave you a soft kiss and followed you to the kitchen.

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

After Noah was in bed, you changed into one of Bradley's soft shirts and a cute pair of your underwear. You finally felt like your things were organized neatly in his house and his bedroom. Your house... your bedroom. Just thinking about it made you smile. But the bed needed to go. You'd spent a good portion of your day looking for a new one online, but everything seemed so expensive.

"Why do you look upset?" Bradley asked when he walked in, fresh out of the shower. He removed the towel from his waist and used it to dry his hair. Even when he wasn't hard, he looked huge, and you bit your lip in need. 

"I'm not upset," you insisted, closing the distance to him. "Just annoyed at the price of a new bed."

Bradley ran his index finger along your lip. "You have your pretty purple princess credit card. Use it. I agree, we should have a new bed."

You kissed his finger before you said, "The one I like is over a thousand dollars."

"Princess. You know by now that I'm not going to get mad if you spend money. Thank you for giving me a heads up about the price of the bed," he said, voice deep and raspy. "It sounds fine to me."

When you tucked your face against his warm chest, you whispered, "Thank you, Daddy."

One of his big hands trailed down your back until he was cupping your butt and playing with your lace thong. He slid his index finger inside the elastic, and your nipples got hard as he ran his finger slowly up and down your rear end until you clenched around nothing. "I have an idea," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe it would be easier for you to use the credit card if you got a punishment of sorts when you did."

"A punishment?" you asked, looking up at him puzzled with your chin resting on his chest. 

"A fun one," he said with a nod, squeezing your butt. "I could spank you."

You tilted your head back and gaped up at him as he continued to work his palm along your flesh. You'd never done that before, which wasn't surprising, because you'd never been with an older man before. And that always seemed like the kind of thing a boy your own age would turn into a silly foray into a kink that you thought you might actually enjoy with the right person. "Spank me?"

Bradley's cock was a little hard now as his fingers worked down and down until he was teasing both of your holes. "Only if you want to. Might motivate you to use the credit card," he whispered with a smirk as your eyes fluttered closed. 

You moaned for him, long and needy, and when he took a few steps backward toward the edge of the bed, you followed him. When he sat down with his legs splayed, his cock looked gorgeous. Just shy of fully erect. Long, pink and pretty. 

"What if I don't like it?" you asked softly, taking a step closer to him. 

"Then I'll stop."

"And what if I do like it?" you asked, running your fingers along his thigh.

Bradley pulled your shirt up a few inches and kissed your belly. "Then Daddy will spank you when you use your princess card."

You moaned again and squeezed your thighs tight. "That sounds hot." And next thing you knew, he had you tossed across his lap with your butt up in the air. You could feel the tip of his cock rubbing along your belly as you scrambled to grab the bedding with one hand and his calf with the other. You looked up at him over your shoulder, and before you could say anything at all, he pushed your shirt up and rubbed his hand along your back, butt and thighs. And then he landed a solid slap that left your skin tingling, and you were already prepared to beg him for more. 

He spanked you again, right on the round of your butt, and you gasped, "Fuck. Bradley!"

He soothed your skin with his rough palm. "Do you want me to stop, Princess?"

"No!" you nearly shouted, wiggling yourself up in the air for more. And he delivered, spanking you three more times in rapid succession. "I love it," you gasped, wiggling a little more against his thigh. 

"I can see that," Bradley crooned. "That's because you're young and sweet, and you've never been bad like this before. You never had a Daddy who wanted you to use his credit card before."

His hand landed with another stinging smack, and you jerked against him, panting as you stared at the bedroom floor, waiting for more. Your thong was pulled taut, the fabric tight along your clit, and each movement brought pressure exactly where you wanted it. "Please?" you whined, and you listened to Bradley chuckle as you rubbed your pussy on his thigh.

"Wow. You really want this." He ran his fingers along the length of the strip of fabric between your cheeks, teasing your holes through the lace. You couldn't stop grinding on him. His coarse leg hairs and his muscular body kept you anchored as he spanked you so hard, you clenched. 

Then you were treated to another round of being soothed while Bradley told you to keep quiet. And the next time his hand met your right butt cheek, you jerked yourself against his thigh and whispered, "I'm gonna cum."

"Really?" Bradley asked. "Should I let you?" He was back to soothing you and running his fingers across your holes. 

"Daddy," you begged. "I'll order the bed tonight. I promise."

Bradley tucked his fingers inside your thong and teased you as he muttered, "This is going to work out even better than I thought." Then he used both hands on your hips to press you down harder on his lap, and you wiggled until you were moaning and clenching harder and harder. 

"Yes," you gasped, and as you reached the peak of your orgasm, he spanked you so many times in a row, your eyes filled with tears of satisfaction. "Daddy," you whimpered, looking up at his smile and his handsome face. 

"You're such a good girl for me," he praised, and slowly you managed to stand between his thighs on shaky legs. You kissed his lips softly as his big hands gently cupped your throbbing rear end. "I love you. Now order a new bed."

"I will," you promised, running your fingers along his erection. "After I take care of this." Bradley watched you with eyes wide, as you sank to your knees in front of him. You knew how much he loved your mouth on him like this, and you wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel. His cock was throbbing in your hands as you kissed the angry, red tip and looked up at him. "After I take care of you."

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

Your mouth on his cock was always a treat for Bradley, but you still had tears in your eyes which made you look even more beautiful to him as he reached for your paper crown and set it on your head. You kissed and nuzzled his cock with your face before pressing soft kisses along his balls. He wasn't going to last long after the spanking when you were as good as you were. But he was feeling smug; you got off rubbing on him while he spanked your perfect ass. 

He was planning on rewarding you by eating your pussy all night. He wasn't expecting to be the one who got head, but he'd never complain about this. Not when your perfect lips were wrapping around his cock like you were right at home. 

"You're so fucking good," he groaned, head tipping back as you took him deep. He took a few deep breaths as you got him really worked up. You were bobbing and moaning, and he watched you take him as his hands found your face. 

When you popped him free to take a deep breath, a pretty strand of your saliva dripped down onto the shirt you were wearing. "Feel good, Daddy?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Baby, you're the best." He stroked your cheek as you sucked on his tip and kept your pretty eyes on his. The crown was crooked on your head now, and he was just a mess for you. "Let me paint your lips up?" he asked, grinning as he thought about the lipgloss you liked to wear. Tonight he wanted you to wear him. 

You sucked him expertly until he was panting, and then you jerked him off onto your lips and face as you giggled. "You gonna help me get cleaned up?" you asked softly as Bradley looked at you completely mesmerized. He reached to swipe his long fingers through his cum, but then he paused as he remembered the polaroid camera sitting on the dresser.

"Don't move," he whispered, kissing your forehead as he stood. When he returned and got the camera ready, he kissed the top of your head and whispered your name. "Baby, if you think I wasn't wild about the photos you sent away with me, I can assure you that I was. Will you let me have more?"

"Yes," you whined, licking at your lips as Bradley took a picture of you before setting it aside. And he'd fight a hundred more Carls who tried to take such a pretty photo away from him in the future. 

"Let's clean you up, Princess," he murmured, kneeling in front of you and swiping his fingers through his mess. You licked his fingers clean over and over again, and Bradley pressed his lips to yours tasting himself. Then he put your crown back on the bedpost where it belonged, accidentally bumping your butt as he hung it up.

"Oww," you whined as he helped you to your feet. "I'm sore."

"I know," he whispered, collapsing onto the bed and coaxing you on top of him. He ran his palm gently along your ass as you curled up with your cheek on his chest. "God, you're perfect."

"I've never been spanked before," you whispered, and Bradley smiled against the top of your head. 

"I've never spanked anyone before."

You looked up at him immediately. "You haven't?" you asked in awe. "I thought you and Meredith..."

But he just shook his head. "Who would I have done that with? I've never had a girlfriend who called me her Daddy before. You make me want to do everything with you."

He watched you preen as you propped yourself up on his chest. "Everything?"

"Everything."

You kissed his pecs as he handed your phone to you. "Am I ordering a new bed right now?" you asked with a little giggle. 

"Yes," he grunted. "Put it on your princess card."

You held up your phone so he could see the bed and mattress you picked out. King sized. Four poster. But he liked it even better than the one he had now. He nodded and watched you purchase it. You tossed the phone aside and whispered, "Just wait. I'll earn myself another spanking in no time."

Bradley kissed you and said, "I know you will. Now let's talk about Big Bear Lake."

"Big Bear Lake?" you asked with a yawn as Bradley continued to soothe your rear end with his hands. 

"Yeah," he rasped. "When can you take a few days off of work so I can spoil you and Noah with a little trip to the mountains? Penny, Mav and Amelia want to go. We'd have some built-in babysitters."

"Mmm," you hummed, a smile on your lips as you snuggled against him again. "Let me talk to Dr. Kelly." Then Bradley let you fall asleep in his arms.

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

When you woke up on Saturday morning, your butt was still sore, but you were smiling against Bradley's chest. "Morning, Princess," he murmured in your ear. "How you feeling?" He rubbed his hand down your back and gently cupped you.

"So good," you groaned. Truly, you had enjoyed every minute of last night. Plus you were getting a new bed in this room. And Bradley had never spanked anyone else. And you'd slept so well. You straddled his waist, ready to show him just how good you were feeling. "Daddy."

But then you heard Noah jump out of his bed and open his door, and you knew he'd be in your bedroom in a matter of seconds. Bradley sighed as you scrambled under the covers with him, brushing his cock which was already getting hard for you. "I mean, I love my son, but..." he said with a laugh.

"Don't you dare!" you replied with a scandalized giggle. "He's an angel."

"Daddy? Princess?" Noah asked as he pushed the door open. "I'm hungry." He was so sweet, standing there rubbing his eyes as he looked at both of you. 

"Head on into the kitchen, Bub," Bradley told him. "We'll make you something yummy."

Once Noah was gone again, Bradley rolled out of bed, and you wanted to reach for him as he pulled some underwear on. Then he set his gray sweatpants down next to you and said, "Take your time."

You stretched and tried to sit up, but your butt hurt so much. So you just pulled on the sweatpants and stopped in the bathroom on your way to the kitchen. When you looked in the mirror, you were smiling nonstop. And when you went to see what the boys were up to, you smelled coffee brewing and saw your favorite creamer on the counter. Bradley was standing in front of the open refrigerator, shaking his head. 

"What do you want to eat?" he was asking Noah. 

"Pancakes!" he replied from his seat at the table.

He grunted. "How about something I know how to make," he grumbled. "Let's give Princess a morning off."

"I can make pancakes," you insisted, and he turned to look at you over his shoulder with a smile. You kissed Noah on the head and asked, "You want butter and syrup? Some strawberries, too?"

"Yes, Mommy," he replied, looking up at you with questioning eyes. Your heart stopped. It must have. You were having a hard time breathing normally as you looked down into his brown eyes and then up into Bradley's. "Mommy?" Noah asked, quieter this time, and you didn't know how to respond. 

"Noah." His name felt so precious on your lips as tears came to your eyes. You weren't sure if this is what Bradley wanted. But you wanted it. You could tell you were on the verge of crying as you stroked Noah's hair with your fingers. 

When one tear streaked down your cheek, you asked Bradley, "Is that okay?"

He was right there with his hands at your waist and his lips next to your ear. "It's okay with me, Mommy."

You kissed your boyfriend hard on the lips before swiping at your cheeks and reaching for Noah. "Come here," you said, picking him up even though he was getting heavy and nuzzling your face to his neck. You kissed him and said, "Let's go find the strawberries in the refrigerator." 

When you pulled out the carton of berries, you let Noah hold them. He looked delighted as you kept kissing his cheek over and over again while Bradley got your coffee ready for you. And he was all smiles just like his son as you held back your tears. You loved both of them so much, and you didn't want to put Noah down. So you just stood in the middle of the kitchen with him in your arms while Bradley took the strawberries and washed them for you. 

Then you whispered to the child in your arms, "I love you, sweet Noah."

"I love you, too," he said with a smile. "But I'm hungry." 

"Right," you said with a laugh. "I'll make your pancakes." 

Bradley had been hanging back for a minute, giving you a moment with Noah, but now his arms were wrapped around you both. He kissed your temple before saying, "Come help me with the strawberries so Mommy can cook breakfast."

Your ears were ringing with the word Mommy. They both kept saying it. You didn't think you would ever stop smiling. You took a sip from Bradley's Getting high is part of my job mug, and you swore you had never tasted anything so delicious in your life. You made pancakes, and they turned out beautifully. You even made some for Noah roughly in the shape of suns and stars, and he looked delighted when you set them down in front of him. Then you cut them into smaller bites and added syrup and some of the strawberries Bradley had managed to cut up. 

"Thanks, Mommy," Noah said as he shoved a forkful into his mouth. Bradley was reaching for a few pancakes from the stack as he smiled at you, but you took the fork from his hand and settled onto his lap even though it hurt your butt.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him softly. "Thank you, Daddy," you whispered, combing your fingers through his hair. "I love him."

"I know you do," he replied, pulling you closer. "He's wanted to call you his Mommy for a while. I'm just happy you're okay with it."

You laughed and watched Noah eating a strawberry covered in syrup. "I'm more than okay with it."

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

For the rest of the day, you and Noah were inseparable. You colored together and did some puzzles, and Noah sat on your lap while he ate lunch. And your smile was infectious. Bradley thought about engagement rings and your birth control for most of the day even though he knew he shouldn't. But how was he supposed to help himself when you were playing tic-tac-toe and eating ants on logs with his son? How was he supposed to put it off any longer when he saw how happy you were?

He texted Mav a few times, making sure he could secure that lake house for a long weekend. And when you convinced Noah to take an afternoon nap, Bradley had you in his arms in the quiet house. He scooped you up as you giggled. 

"Think I should mark you down as Noah's Mommy at the daycare center?" he asked, dropping you onto the bed and climbing on top of you. He made quick work of the gray sweatpants and your thong.

You moaned and said, "Casey would be so pissed off," as Bradley pulled his underwear down and stroked himself a few times. 

"Imagine how annoyed she'll be when I get a ring on your finger," he growled.

You gasped as he pushed his cock inside you, and Bradley devoured your lips with his. You gaped up at him as he pushed your thighs wide and looped his arms around your legs. "Daddy," you whine softly, just spurring him on. He wanted to be gentle, because he knew you were still sore. But he felt feral inside. He wanted to mark you as his own. 

It didn't last long, and as soon as he filled your pussy up with his cum, Bradley pulled you against his side for an afternoon nap in the now silent house. He dozed with you and ran his hand along your back, enjoying the soft sound of your even breaths. He had promised Nat that he would make an appearance at the Hard Deck tonight after missing out on so many weeks. When everyone was awake, he would check to see if Amelia could come over and watch Noah for a few hours. 

But when you woke up and went right back to playing and snuggling with Noah who kept calling you Mommy, he shouldn't have been surprised at all that you didn't want to go out. As soon as he mentioned the bar, you looked up at him from the craft project taking place on the living room floor like he was very simple. 

"What would I want to go out tonight? Noah and I are busy. Besides, if I go and that Beau Simpson guy is there and touches me again, he's getting slapped."

Bradley knelt down and kissed you with a grin. "That's Mav's boss. You know that, right?" 

"I don't care who he is," you huffed, gluing construction paper together. 

"We'll stay in," Bradley whispered, but you were already shaking your head.

"Go out with Nat. I'll stay here with this sweet boy."

Bradley studied you as you looked at him. Your hand was rubbing Noah's back as he used some safety scissors to turn orange paper into a confetti mess that Bradley would be all too happy to clean up later. Because he could tell you were finally feeling like you belonged here without any stipulations or an expiration date. "You want me to go out for a bit?" he asked softly. "So you can have a night with Noah all to yourself?"

You nodded with a smile and said, "It'll be just like when you had the dating app. You'll go out for a few hours and rush back home pretending you're not completely smitten with me and just dying to have a flirtatious conversation on the couch."

Bradley groaned softly and kissed your lips. "I wasn't hiding it very well, was I?"

"No," you whispered. "But neither was I."

"I love you. I'll ask Nat to pick me up for a few hours so you and Noah can play together."

And the two of you were still playing in the living room when Nat arrived to pick him up. You'd turned the couch cushions into a little tunnel and a fort, and you were laying in it together watching Mickey Mouse on TV and eating popcorn. Bradley had to laugh, because he may as well have gone out for the entire afternoon since neither of you noticed him cleaning up the rest of the house as you laughed. 

"Hey, Natasha!" you said, offering her some popcorn.

Nat took a few kernels and asked, "You're not coming out with us?" as she ruffled Noah's hair. 

"No," you replied easily. "I'm going to stay in tonight with the little guy. You got the big one."

Nat groaned as Bradley grabbed his house key. "He used to be fun to go out with. Now he just talks about you all night and mopes when you're not there."

"Sorry?" But you were laughing and looking at Bradley.

"Don't be sorry. I love to see a grown man turn pathetic," Nat replied, winking at you. "Come on, Rooster."

Bradley knelt and then crawled across the floor to kiss Noah. "Love you," he said. Then he leaned closer to you and kissed your cheek. "Love you too, Princess."

When he grunted as he stood, you laughed and said, "Don't drink too much, old man." And then they were gone and you snuggled with Noah.

"Mommy, will you make me ants?" he asked softly when the popcorn was gone. 

"At this rate, you might turn into an ant," you told him, tickling his sides as he laughed hysterically. His chubby little cheeks were pink, and he looked so happy. He was a tiny, overjoyed version of Bradley, and you loved him so much.

"An ant! Mommy, you're funny," he giggled, and you scooped him up and took him into the kitchen. Once you peeled and sliced the carrots, you let him use a spoon to glob the peanut butter on them, and subsequently also on the kitchen counter. He sprinkled on some raisins and took a bite. 

By the time you got him into a bath, he had peanut butter everywhere, and your face hurt from smiling. You and he had a rubber duck battle until your clothing was wet. And you read eight books to him before bed, including the ones that you picked out at the bookshop with Bradley. Noah was yawning and trying to keep his eyes open as he sat on your lap, and if this is what being his Mom was like, you never wanted it to stop.

"Love you, sweet Noah," you whispered, smothering him in kisses once he was in bed. You quietly organized the books on his shelf and watched him drift to sleep. You turned on his night light and eventually slipped out of his bedroom. Then you leaned against the wall in the hallway, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by everything. 

Then you giggled. Bradley mentioned a ring earlier. Noah felt like he was yours. Bradley felt like he'd never let you go. All of the sweet gestures and the afternoon sex left you tingling. When you went to turn on his favorite song so you could take a shower, you saw a message from Natasha on your phone. 

Fair warning... he's pretty drunk. I'll return him home in one piece, but then he's your problem.

You took a quick shower, still smiling, and then slipped into a pair of your underwear and one of Bradley's oversized tropical print shirts that fell to your mid thigh. You did up most of the buttons and grabbed some Skittles from the kitchen. You were about halfway through a documentary about a serial killer when you heard someone pull into the driveway. 

Your heart beat a little faster as you peeked out the window and watched Bradley being led up the sidewalk by his best friend. "Easy," Natasha said as if she was talking to a confused animal. 

"Just wanna see her," he replied, way too loud as she tried to quiet him down. 

"She lives with you now, Rooster. You see her all the time."

Bradley just stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and started to chuckle. "She fucking lives with me, Nat. It's wild, right? Like she lives here now."

"Yes, she does," Nat grunted, trying to push him the rest of the way up to the porch. But he wasn't budging, and you were laughing now. You decided to give her a break and open the front door.

"Hi," you said softly, and then Bradley was coming for you so fast, Natasha almost lost her footing. You were in his arms before you could say anything else. He smelled like cheap beer, and his eyes were soft as he looked at you. "Did you have fun, Daddy?"

"Mmm," he hummed, pushing you backwards into the house. "Love it when you call me that."

You giggled as you felt his mustache on your neck, and you waved to his best friend as she headed back to her SUV. Bradley kicked the door closed behind him as you whispered, "I think you missed me."

He had one big hand at the back of your neck and the other was up underneath the shirt, skimming along your still sore rear end, making you press yourself against him. "You're so pretty, Baby."

You felt warm all over as he patted your butt gently with a little smirk on his face. You gasped and clung to him, your arms looped around his neck, and then his lips found yours. He tasted like beer, and as you parted your lips for him, he backed you up against the TV stand. It was just like the first night he kissed you, and he was still as gentle as he always was, if not a tiny bit more demanding. 

"I love you," he grunted. "And you're wearing my shirt. Looks great on you."

"Tell me about your night, Daddy," you coaxed, running your fingers through his hair. 

But he just started rambling as he unbuttoned the shirt with clumsy fingers. "Gonna take you to that lake house. Already talked to Penny about it tonight." Then he abandoned the buttons and cupped your chin in one big palm. His eyes were hazy and fighting for focus as he kissed your forehead. His voice was deep and filled with something a little dangerous as he asked, "When you gonna let me fuck a baby into you?"

He was stroking your jaw with his long fingers, eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer as the TV stand pressed into the backs of your thighs. He was more than twelve years older than you, and he'd been hinting at this for a while. It had always sounded appealing, but now that the three of you were on the same page about Noah calling you Mommy, you wanted it even more. "We should talk about this when you're sober," you told him, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. 

"You know I'm gonna feel the same way tomorrow," he whispered, a soft smile touching his lips now. "I'm getting old, Princess. I want another baby. With you."

He was such a good father, so patient and loving with Noah. The idea of him holding a tiny baby- your tiny baby- was almost too much. You let your head tip back as you moaned, "You're not old, Daddy. You're a classic. Let's go to bed."

After he carried you to the bedroom and set you down in bed, he pushed you back against the pillows with his delicious body weight. "You're not wrong. I've been drinking. You don't owe me a real response tonight. But next time we talk about it, I want an answer from you."

You nodded as he eased his body away from yours, and you watched him strip out of his clothing and head to the bathroom. You were going to have to figure out a way to put your feelings into words. 

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

Princess Mommy and her purple credit card. Fucking lucky bitch (affectionate). Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 35

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