#what matters is if i get it back and see i was making consistent mistakes in a certain area then okay lets revisit and understand

[cakeinpants]

Previous

***

...

Pat didn't get to prepare in peace. He was in the shower when the familiar two Sligs sent by Jabodo showed up at his door, knocking, threatening and demanding him to come out. They made it clear they were not going to wait.

The rushed dancer barely managed to throw on a shirt and a pair of sleep shorts – clothes that were nearest in sight – before they dragged him out and made him walk to class, still wet, dripping from his feathers right on the corridor's carpet.

Jabodo was there, waiting.

"Another unforgivable mistake, I see." After the Sligs pushed Pat through the door, Jabodo said loud enough so that everyone in the room could hear. "You're late and refusing to follow orders..."

A hushed group of other mudokon dancers that were in class today were gathered at barre, exchanging whispers, with emotions varying from fear and sympathy to hidden gloat as they were glancing at the humiliated principal dancer.

Wet, barefoot and in his sleepwear. With big dark circles under his red eyes and a scratch on his cheek..

"I just need to get my dancewear.."

"You had your time. The rehearsal has been scheduled to start half an hour ago. I'm not waiting any longer. You better take your place at barre now, and make up for your unacceptable behaviour."

Sure, Malgaine was a strict teacher too, and required discipline. But he also treated Pat with great care and made sure he was always healthy and in good shape. Pat was a valuable dancer. He wasn't used to being treated with such blatant cruelty and disrespect – by some stranger who wasn't even his real Master.

Jabodo will never be his master.

"Barre. First position. Now." The Chronicler commanded.

But Pat didn't comply. He stood still, not even trying to hide the despise in his eyes anymore.

"I said first position!"

The dancer didn't move.

Jabodo's face went red from anger. The Chronicler darted right up to Pat and impulsively grabbed him by the arm, trying to force the dancer into the ballet position. That didn't work out of course. So instead Jabodo grabbed him by the face and leaned very closely to it.

"Who do you think you are..." He hissed.

"I am a Principal Dancer. And I want to be treated as such."

"You are a Mudokon, and you'll be treated how I see fit! Don't think so highly of yourself. You're not irreplaceable. There's plenty of contenders waiting for you to slip up..." he made a gesture towards the group of dancers at barre. "And they'll do anything to be able to take your place."

Pat knew that very well. The Palace's Mudokon Ballet Troupe currently consisted of 23 dancers apart from Pat. Eight of them were femininised castrati like him. Fourteen regular workers for masculine and supportive roles. Only one queen.

And all of them were willing to sell their souls and bodies for a Principal Dancer title. But Pat didn't feel threatened by it. He just felt sorry for them.

"Go ahead then. Replace me."

Jabodo's hand squeezed the dancer's chin harder.

"Do you know what happens if you get fired, boy?"

"The Palace's ratings drop even lower?"

"Don't get cocky with me! Trust, the Palace will survive without you just fine. But you will not survive without the Palace."

"Does it matter to you, then?"

"Shut it! That's enough! I'm reporting you to Madame Delvona."

He commanded the Sligs to take Pat away.

"You shouldn't've picked this fight..."

He knew that too... He knew he couldn't win it. But he couldn't turn back now.

It was the first time he openly confronted a higher-up like that.

Though Pat wasn't always a sweet and compliant mudokon he was known to be, only lower class could see his angry side. He could lash out at servants, or argue with mudokons that were below or at least on the same level as him. But when it came to anyone higher, Pat's always kept his mouth shut.

Not this time. The dancer has lost any respect for Jabodo. And felt like he had nothing to lose at this point...

[spohkh]

i love being able to explain absolutely anything i do these days with "listen... im almost 30." bc like. brother im almost 30. so fuckng who cares and also leave me alone

[i-love-ptv]

Such A Sure Thing ‧*❆₊⋆

Pairing:Boyfriend Rafe Cameron x Girlfriend!Reader

It finally snowed in the Outer Banks, (who would’ve thought?) so what do you do? You spend the day with the Camerons.

Wc: 1,192

Pure fluff!! We got lots of snow the other day soooo ya.

An: This is a little rushed cause i wanted to get it out, so i hope there aren’t too many mistakes 😣 I’m gonna try n be more consistent dw guys! ALSO IM THINKING ABT MAKING A TAGLIST SO LMK IF YOU’RE INTERESTED!

Feedback is always appreciated and welcomed!

Rafe awoke to the sound of screams.

His disoriented state made him merely turn over in bed, in hopes of finding your heated body right next to him. Yet he was met with limp tangled sheets and a cool pillow. The high heat inside the house doing nothing to provide him comfort in his long sleeve shirt alongside his sweatpants—only making him acknowledge the slight sweat that covers him from his chest up.

This made him jump up, the sounds of yelling now starting to register in his mind. His sleepy haze doesn’t allow him to recognize that signature laugh of yours that rings throughout the front lawn.

Rafe’s stride to the bottom of the staircase and eventually to the front door doesn’t miss a beat.

His steps are quick, and filled with urgency as he quickly rips open the already cracked front door.

“Wheez! You’re supposed to be on my team!” Rose yelps with a giggle.

Rafe sees you, alongside Wheezie, Sarah, and Rose, all with rosy faces and snow covering your layered clothing. He looks over slightly and sees Ward standing a few feet away, no doubt trying to avoid being hit with the largely-sized snowballs that the four of you are throwing. —Ward has a slight, yet noticeable quirk of a grin on his face.

Rafe rubs his eye with his gently-formed fist. He recognizes the coat that’s nearly swallowing your frame, it’s his. He assumes that once you noticed the snowflakes falling, you immediately grabbed whichever coat your pretty eyes landed on.

You’re crouching behind a well-constructed snow wall, creating multiple snowballs a minute, no doubt preparing for when Sarah comes running back for more ammunition for her onslaught. Rose is cowering behind her and Wheezie’s poorly created mound as the two youngest Cameron’s continue their attack.

Suddenly, Rose gathers a somewhat-large pile of snow in her arms and launches it at Sarah’s frame. She squeals as she sprints back to you, where she dives into the snow beside you.

“Don’t worry Sar, I’ll cover you!” You shout, before gathering several snowballs and then rushing towards Rose and Wheezie.

Rafe continues to watch on as the mere snowball fight turns into a playful brawl between you and his younger sister. Sarah and Rose join in as well, and Rafe looks at the scene fondly.

In all honesty, Rafe’s never really been for family; mainly preferring to be alone or rarely with his father. But something about seeing you with his family—fitting in perfectly as if you lived here, made his heart pound. He’s never been big for affection, both giving and receiving, at least he thought he wasn’t. Because right now, all he can think about is bundling up and joining you.

You’ve been this beacon of light for Rafe; he doesn’t really understand it, and trying to is harder than it seems. He’s spent so long trying to figure out how you’re different from all the rest; was it the fact that even though you didn’t take any shit from anybody, you’re still endlessly kind? Was it your beauty that couldn’t be matched? Or maybe it was the compassion that nobody has ever shown him—not even his own family—besides you.

He’s awestruck by you, he always is. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, everything leaves him breathless as he tries to calm his beating heart.

“Morning, Ray!” You shout, making him blink. “God—how are you not cold right now?!” You giggle as you try to regain your breath, while also sprinting towards him. Short puffs of air leave your mouth and flow through the wind. Your nose is slightly dark and rosy from the cold, as well as your upper wrist, which is exposed to the freezing snow that most likely rolled down your sleeves.

“Ew dude, nobody wants to see that,” Wheezie groans.

“Yeah, go put on some clothes, loser!” Sarah exclaims.

Rafe pays no mind to them, his main focus being on you peering up at him so beautifully, just like you always do.

Your icy gloves fingers gently push on his chest, “C’mon..Go change so we can make a snowman.” You speak softly.

“Uh-huh..” He mumbles dumbly, and all he can do is smile whilst going back to his room. He rummages through his closet, throwing clothes around haphazardly, desperately searching for at least a sweatshirt and shoes.

After quickly changing into whatever, somewhat warm clothing he could find, Rafe goes downstairs. He opens the front door yet again, but instead of seeing you farther down the lawn, you're waiting patiently directly on the porch.

You push your hands out towards him without a word, only beaming at him as his eyes trails down. In your cupped hands lies a heart-shaped snowball. Rafe can’t help but match your grin.

“Oh, thank you baby,” he nearly whispers, before gently taking the heart and putting it into his jacket pocket.

Rafe swipes the nearby wall-mounted lantern and gathers the snow in his black glove-covered hands. His large fingers attempt to form a heart.

It’s a little extremely disfigured, but you give him a toothy duchenne smile nonetheless.

You thank him before grabbing his arm and dragging him further into the front yard. The boots that you saved up and bought him for Christmas stomp in the snow behind you. He laughs at your eagerness.

Suddenly, you stop, muttering a “Shit! My boot,” before crouching down.

Rafe shifts his gaze down to your form with curiosity, which is very short lived when you toss a quickly formed snowball into his face.

Rafe sputters as you laugh, briefly watching you run away before sprinting after you.

“C’mon! You can't hit me then run away, babe!” Rafe yells, quickly gaining on you.

He tackles you into the snow, you both grunt simultaneously.

“That’s not fucking fair! You have lanky legs!” You squeal as he begins to dig and prod at your sides.

“Yeah yeah, it’s not my fault your stride isn’t up to par like mine.” Rafe smirks triumphantly.

You can’t help but cackle, “You sound so stupid right now!” Rafe then trails his tickling up your body, it’s erratic and uncalculated; all you can do is squirm in the mound of snow.

A shout comes from a few feet away, you recognize the voice—it’s Wheezie. “Hey, lovebirds! We’re going inside to get hot chocolate, you comin’?” She’s standing in front of the door with Sarah; you assume Rose and Ward have already gone inside.

“Nah, we’re good!” Rafe hollers, before continuing to torment mess with you.

“Ow! Fuck, my ribs!” Your tone is filled with anguish, and you jolt up in Rafe’s arms.

“What? What happened baby? Was I too rough?” Rafe’s checking your frame urgently, searching for any sign of an injury.

Abruptly, you use all your body weight to push Rafe onto his back. You straddle him, then grab some of the snow surrounding his head, smushing it into his face.

You stand on wobbly knees as Rafe tries to regain his composure, before taking off towards the backyard.

“Oh—I’m not letting you get away, sweetheart!” Rafe huffs before taking off after you yet again.

[akimiiyo]

-> COMFORT

⌗synopsis: how genshin men comfort you.

⌗characters: diluc, kaeya, albedo, zhongli, childe, baizhu, xiao, thoma, itto, ayato, heizou, wanderer, kazuha, tighnari, cyno, alhaitham, kaveh, neuvillette, lyney, dainsleif, dottore, pantalone, capitano, pierro.

⌗cw: gn!reader, not proofread, lowercase intended, ooc? not so sure.

he can tell something’s up with you with a single glance your way. he won’t waste time, he’ll ask you what’s on your mind and trust me when i say that lying won’t get you out of this situation. he won’t stop until he found the source of your unhappiness before pulling you in a tight hug. his hugs usually last a bit during these moments, between his hands running up and down your back and his sweet, whispered words to your ear. if your heart is particularly heavy, he’ll kiss your tears in such a delicate way just to tickle you and bring back a smile on your face. he’ll make sure you know he’s by your side and you won’t have to deal with things all on your own.

diluc, kaeya, zhongli, baizhu, kazuha, thoma, tighnari.

his first instinct is to cheer you up as soon as he starts noticing your mood. what would his world be without his darling’s smile? he’ll try to make some jokes and squeeze you into his arms a little more until he hears your lovely laugh once again before starting to ask you about your worries. sadly enough, his attempts fail to prevent you from breaking down in front of him, his heart aching at the sight of your tears. he wipes away your tears while encouraging you to talk before smothering your face with sweet kisses and reassuring you in the meantime. you best believe he won’t let you leave his side for the rest of the day, that’s just the kind of guy he is.

childe, itto, thoma, heizou, cyno, kaveh, lyney.

he doesn’t really pick up on your mood at the very beginning, but he slowly begins to notice a couple of things which results in him trying to figure out what could possibly be upsetting you. he feels a little embarrassed to go up to you and comfort you out of the blue, but he does anyways because it’s you. he might sit beside you and hold your hand or even hug you without saying much. he’ll let you decide wether to open up or not, but he lets you know that whatever your decision may be, he’ll be there. later that day you’ll find him preparing you a snack and a drink for you with the intentions of staying by your side in the coziness of your own home.

albedo, xiao, alhaitham, wanderer, neuvillette, dainsleif.

he can see your saddened eyes. there’s never a moment when he’s not looking of you, so how could he not notice? he’s quite the strong man and his partner isn’t less than him, so he’s sure you can deal with anything. that is not to say he wouldn’t help you, he just knows that whatever it is, if it was serious enough you’d know to look for him. once you do though, he’ll offer you whatever you need to help you feel better. a hug? reassurance? solutions? whatever it is that is troubling you, dear, you’ve come to the right person. and although he may seem a little distant to some, you know that this man would move mountains to ensure your happiness and he reminds you everyday.

ayato, dottore, pantalone, capitano, pierro.

⌗a/n; wow, i sure love posting with consistency! 😸 this was rushed, i hope you cant tell that much and that you still like it. i noticed that they werent posting a lot of dottore content recently, so i took matters into my own hands 😈 anyways, if there are any mistakes, plsss tell me!!!

want to see more? take a look at my masterlist!

©2024 akimiiyo. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.

[cupcakeinat0r]

Thinkin' abt DadBod!Miguel at the gym <3

You'd been going to the gym routinely, or at least trying to. You decided to go after working up the courage and convincing yourself that this was just for fun. That your body was your temple, and you were tending to it, no matter how it looked <3

The first week wasn't so bad. After embarrassingly tripping on equipment or accidentally dropping weights here and there, it was alright! Though at times, it was still difficult to stay consistent, until one day, you saw him.

Over on the other side of the gym, curling some dumbbells (100s, mind you), was a total 6-foot, thick, hairy dream of a man. You first noticed his chiseled face adorned by fine lines, locks of black hair framing it. With each draw of the weights, his biceps bulged. Beads of sweat trickled down his bulky chest and wide shoulders. When your eyes wander downward, you're surprised to not find washboard abs.

Oh no, what you find instead excites you even more than any pack of abs could offer you.

Your mouth waters slightly to find that his tank top has ridden up slightly over his hefty belly, graciously allowing a peek at a happy trail, its path sadly blocked by some basketball shorts (his cute bubble butt and giant dick print made up for it tho).

Despite his low, breathy grunts and intense crimson gaze towards his own reflection, he was making it look easy. You thought about how easy it'd probably be for him to carry you bride-style and throw you onto a bed before spreading your legs with those enormous hands so he could feast until your eyes crossed. Or how it'd be effortless for him to hold you tightly with your legs wrapped around that stocky midsection of his while he bullied his-

"'scuse me, you waiting for this bench?" a deep voice snaps you out of a daydream. You see the man is now looking at you with what looks like a knowing smirk. Fuck, he noticed you staring.

"Oh! N-no, was just looking for the 10s!" You blurt, evoking a velvety chuckle and dashing smile from him.

"Right over there." He motions with his chin toward the weight rack where the 10s are obviously displayed. After you thanked him, He smiled and nodded back to you, turning back toward the mirror to do his last set.

The second week felt like no problem. Instead of dragging yourself to the gym, you looked forward to it, scanning for your new gym crush every time you entered.

You'd feel a lil surge of happiness when you do find him there, feeling brave enough to exchange smiles and sometimes even little waves from across the gym. One time, the older man made you swoon when he winked at you upon entering the gym. After seeing your cute reaction, this would be how he greeted you every time.

The third week came You're at the squat rack, feeling stronger than usual, so you opt to go the heaviest you've ever gone. Big mistake. By the third rep, you fail to get back up, panicking and legs shaking. Just when you feel yourself start to fall, you see a pair of hands dart toward the bar from behind you, lifting it with ease and allowing you to stand back up. The bar is re-racked and you turn to find gym bae.

"You okay?" he gently prompts, a worried look on his face.

"Yes, thank you... think I might've gone too heavy." you nervously chuckle. He does as well, seeing that you're alright.

"Next time you go for a PR, you need to ask for a spotter, hun." He gives you that dashing smile again, his hands on his love handles.

"Yeah, I probably should've," you lower your head in defeat, "I didn't bring anyone with me though."

"You could've asked me," He says matter of factly as if it should've been obvious that he should be the one to spot you. "I would've done it with no problem, mama." His pet names make your womanhood pulse.

You look back up at him, your lips curled into a shy smile.

"C'mon, let's try again." "No, no, mama, I got that, I'll put it away for you." "Keep your knees like this-theeeere you go. "Gimme one more, mama, just one more, you can do it." "Atta girl! Good job, mamita."

You learned that his name is Miguel. He'd become your designated spotter on leg days, the sensation of his larger frame against yours making you nervous in the best way.

Your favorite is when his tummy accidentally brushes against your back, and borderline, your ass, and if not his tummy, it'd be his prominent bulge (which isn't there bc he gets to spot the adorable girl with an amazing ass from the gym... totally not that).

On the Fourth week, Miguel would ask you if you wanted to be workout buddies altogether. Of course, you accept, in which he asks for your number so like that, he can text you when he's going and vice versa.

It's the fifth week, and you both have worked out together a couple times already. Miguel texted you in the morning asking if you'd like to join him, which you were totally down for.

You two started with lateral pull-downs. Once it was your turn, you sat on the machine and reached for the handle, pulling it as you began your set.

Anytime you felt like you wanted advice or correction, Miguel eagerly helped you.

His hands would stay on your waist, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Mhm, there you go, you're doin' so good, mama." He praises in almost a whisper.

If only he knew he was making the exercise only harder. As if that weren't enough, his finger would occasionally message your hip. Your bodies were so close that you were able to hear each satisfied hum from his lips, suggesting you were doing the exercise right.

"Good girl, that was better. You feel it now?" He says, letting go to let you off the machine.

"Yeah, thank you! When it comes to upper body, I'll need all the help I can get. I'm just glad I’m getting it from an upper-body master." You flirtatiously add, playfully poking at one of his biceps.

This makes him blush, but only for a moment before he returns with a cocky response, "Thanks, hun. I'm glad to be working out with a leg-day goddess."

Now it was your turn to blush, except you didn't have any smart comeback, boosting Miguel's ego.

"Listen, let me treat you to smoothie after this, yeah?" He says it more like a statement than a request, and you happily oblige.

What you were expecting was a simple, cheap smoothie from a spot you usually go to, but instead, you're met with a drive-thru menu listing shakes from $20 and up. Oh he got moneyyyy.

Miguel tells you to pick any that looks good to you. He orders for himself and you as well, parking the car once the two of you get the smoothies.

As he sips from the cup, you take the opportunity to subtly glance at his figure, his muscles, how his pecs sit beautifully on top of his soft belly, his thighs constrained by the confines of his gym shorts. You think how badly you wanna sit there, grinding on the print 'til there was a wet spot-

"Something on your mind, mama?" You look back at him, taking a few seconds to register his words.

You hastily look back down at your drink and shake your head, “Nothing… thank you so much for this, it’s delicious!”

then he grabs the shoulder of your chair to lean toward you, “Of course, mama, but I don’t think you’re being completely truthful with me, hm?”

You look at him, playfully shaking your head again, knowing full well you’ve been caught.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, hm? dime.” He puts the smoothie into the cup holder to free his other hand, placing it on your thigh, and softly squeezes it. “Just say the word, and you’ll get anything you want.”

Your lips curl slyly as you think of a response.

“Well… we never did cardio.”

Now you were here in his car, being bounced on his fat dick on the passenger seat, holding onto his his big shoulders for dear life. You were basically his fleshlight at this point… with those big hands.

You could feel his body now taut against yours, your tits bouncing relentlessly, his muscled, thick thighs below your ass, his balls slapping against your pussy lips, his bush tickling your clit, his pelvis pushing your ass up and his curved belly against your front side. It all was sending you into euphoria.

With you vigorously bouncing on his cock and his beautiful moaning, you fully let go. “Aw yes, Daddy,“ you mumbled without thinking.

In fact, you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was this fat cock and your pussy was memorizing all its veins and curves.

“Mmfuck baby, yea, say that again f’me”, he groaned through gritted teeth as he mercilessly bounced you down his painfully hard shaft.

“Please, Daddy, please!” You whined with your hands desperately seeking support on his big shoulders.

You can feel the sheet of sweat on his belly and on his thighs, which turned the smacking of your ass sound even more lewd.

“Fuck, say it again.” He growled, getting faster now.

“Mmmm, Daddy— Daddy, pleaseeee.”

“Louder, baby, c’mon—“

“UNGH DADDYYYY”

“Oh FUCK… you wanted cardio, baby, I’ll give you cardio… fuckin’ take it… coño.” Your panting became synchronized with every pound of his cock into your abused and bruised cunt, getting higher and higher in pitch, firing him up to go faster and harder.

“Gonna cum on this fat cock, right? Gonna cum f’me, mami?” He ordered, dropping octaves from his usual gentle tone with you.

“Mmmnn, Nnyesyyesyesyes—“ you babbled, the shakiness of your voice the result of the aggressive bouncing.

“Ah… carajo…” his cock accidentally slips out from your cunt, making you wince from the sudden empty sensation.

Holding up your ass, he takes a moment to admire the view, hissing from the sight of his angrily red cock and veins pulsing from your cunt sucking him in so deliciously. A ring of your cream erotically placed at the base of his length, just above his perfect bush. He guides his fat tip back to your dripping cunt using his thumb, pushing it back into your swollen folds.

He was back to ramming into your abused cunt in no time, chasing each others high’s.

“C’mon…fuck, c’mon, mama, you’re almost there…. Aw f-fuck… almost there…” he moans with his brows knitted and through a clenched jaw.

“Daddy I’m g’na— I’m cummingimcummingimcumming—“

“Aw, fuck, asi— asi mami— ah, ah…” Miguel holds back choked whines as he get closer, not allowing himself to let go until he knew you came first.

You speak in gibberish before crying into your climax, Miguel letting out a long, exasperated groan when he reaches his. You can feel his hot cum overfilling you, making you whine as it leaks down your thigh.

After draining himself completely, making sure every drop was in you, he gently pulls out, “Fuck… you did so good for me, mama… so good.”

Miguel lets you rest against his heaving chest and soft belly, rubbing your back as you caught your breath. You smiled a tired smile when you notice how hard Miguel is breathing as well, knowing you worked him out, too.

“You ok, mamita?” He plants a tender kiss on your shoulder, making a trail up your neck and finally to your forehead.

“Mhm,” you hum, you look up at him and are met with his plump, wet lips, tongues becoming entangled with each other as he groans into your mouth.

“I say… we do cardio like this every day.”

A/n: Haiii, I hope u liked it <3 Love my man sm <3 None of my gym baes could ever compare to himmmmm😭😭😭

@angel-of-the-moons Ty Ty Ty my luv for planting the seed in my head <3

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

[birdiewritessometimes]

You're too good to me - M. Riddle x Gryffindor! reader

A/N: Hii, this is my first Mattheo fan fic, i hope you enjoy it! I don't own any of the characters. English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes i might have made. I'm not that happy with the end but oh well!

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Gryffindor! reader

Themes/warnings: Fluff, slight angst, Harry and Ron being assholes hihi, slightly suggestive, cursing, one fight with the mention of blood

Word count: 14 000-ish (it's a long one)

Edit: I just edited some mistakes I noticed that i made language wise, oh and i gave it a title hihi <3

Please do not copy or translate my work!

Enjoy!

It was the last lesson before dinner, potions with the Slytherins. It was a gloomy day, the autumn weather making yet an appearance on this Monday afternoon in mid-October. The castle was cold, as it usually was this time of year, making you shiver. It didn’t help that you were in the dungeons, they were usually much colder than the rest of the castle. You pulled your Gryffindor robes tighter around you, as to shield yourself from the cold that was seeping out of the stones. You had taken your usual seat next to one of your friends, Hermione.

“Did you see that Harry and Mattheo Riddle got into a fight again?” She asked in a hushed voice. You shook your head no.

“What, why? Are they hurt?” You whispered back with a worried note in your voice.

“They didn’t fight fight, they argued really bad, just now! Before class.” Hermione explained as you shook your head. Although you’ve never really spoken to Mattheo before you didn’t understand their problem with one another. You couldn’t even remember what started it, but ever since first year they’ve been butting heads, getting into fights, taunting each other. Ron was no better, he would back Harry up whenever he would fight Mattheo, whether it was physical, or verbal didn’t matter. You and Hermione tried to stay out of it, neither of you had any opinion on the boy that was Mattheo Riddle, now Draco was a different story. He would take any opportunity to be mean to either of you, using it to get a rise out of Harry and Ron. Mattheo didn’t do that.

“Really? Do you know about what?” You replied to Hermione, she just had time to shake her head no before Snape walked in, effectively silencing everyone.

“Probably the usual.” Hermione whispered silently before turning to Snape to listen. The usual. The usual consisted of taunts such as ‘you suck Potter’ which was usually answered with ‘tell that to your pathetic family’ or ‘oh look an apprentice death eater’ which was most of the time answered with ‘at least I have a future cupboard boy’ if it wasn’t answered with fists. How Mattheo knew about the cupboard you had no idea.

“Today you will be divided into pairs to work on a particularly complicated potion.” Snapes voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He started to list the pairs in a bored sort of voice. Your attention piqued when you heard him call out your name.

“Miss l/n and Mr Riddle.” You looked around the classroom, trying to find him when you noticed that his eyes already were locked on you, an unreadable expression on his face. He sat in the back of the class, next to a boy you knew as Lorenzo Berkshire, you had worked with him before in arithmancy. You gave Mattheo a small, nervous smile before turning back to listen to Snapes instructions. If you were being honest, you were a bit nervous to work with him considering his dislike for your friends but when Snape finished talking, you walked up to him like he was any other student. You stretched your hand out to him and gave him a smile as you took a seat in the chair Lorenzo previously sat in.

“Hi, I’m y/n, looks like were partners for today.” You said as he shook your hand lazily.

“Yeah, whatever, just try to keep up” he said in a bored tone as he started to prepare the ingredients. You let out a rather, in your opinion, unattractive snort at his comment. He gave you a questioning look which made you realise that he didn’t listen to Snape in the beginning of the lesson.

“You know he paired us up based on how well we’ve been doing in class… so we should be at the same level.” You said with an amused expression on you face as you started to get your book and the rest of the ingredients.

“So, I think I’m going to keep up just fine.” You mocked his voice at ‘keep up’ and you don’t know where the confidence came from to tease him but when he let out a small huff and the smallest smile you’ve ever seen someone make you knew you were getting through his icy exterior.

“You think you’re funny huh?” He said, now adorning a smirk on his handsome face. You gave a small laugh at that.

“Oh, I know I’m funny, yeah, people tell me so all the time. Question is, can you keep up with me?” You joked as you started to stir the cauldron the specific number of stirs as he added ingredients. He let out a low chuckle at that before leaning in into your space. His cologne hit your nose from how close he was. He smelled like sandalwood, nicotine and mint. Why did he have to smell so good?

“We’re just getting started, love, let’s find out, yeah?” Did someone just turn up the heat? The coldness you felt moments ago was gone and replaced with the heat that radiated from his body. You felt a blush form on your cheeks from the pet name and his proximity. His smirk widened when he noticed your pink cheeks.

“Looks like I won’t have a problem keeping up after all, love.” He joked as he turned back to adding ingredients to the potion while you stirred. The lesson went by quicker than you thought, talking and joking with Mattheo. Turns out that he was, dare you say, sweet once he was given a chance, in his own Mattheo-esque way of course. He was also unbelievably flirty, it seemed like it was his personal mission to make you blush as much as he could. If he didn’t grip your hand to make you stir in a specific way, he would call you ‘love’ as much as he could. At the end of the lesson, you helped each other to tidy up your supplies, laughing about how Snape looked exactly like an overgrown bat when he swooped through the halls. You felt weirdly comfortable around him, like you’ve known him for ages and not just for an hour.

“Good job today, Mattheo, I had really fun with you and I’m glad we managed to get the potion right.” You said with a smile as you placed your hand on his arm.

“Thanks love, you did really well today, keeping me on my toes and all.” He said with a smirk at the blush that crept up on your cheeks. You were about to reply when Ron’s shouting interrupted you.

“Y/n, are you coming today or? I’m starving!” Mattheo rolled his eyes at Ron, you gave Mattheo an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, I’m coming! See you, Mattheo.” You said, still with that apologetic smile and then you went to Ron who was waiting by the door with Hermione and Harry, what you didn’t see was the glares the boys sent to each other.

“So, how was it to work with the evil spawn?” Ron asked nonchalantly as you were walking towards the great hall. You frowned at the nick name while Harry let out a laugh.

“I’ll let you know Ron, that Mattheo was really nice to work with.” You said emphasizing ‘Mattheo’. You didn’t like to be dragged into the conflicts Harry and Ron had with people. The only time you did meddle in the drama of this school was in second year when you punched Draco Malfoy on the nose for calling Hermione a mudblood. You didn’t take it well when people were mean for no reason.

“And I don’t like it when you call him that.” You said with a frown as your group rounded a corner, walking up a flight of stairs. Ron and Harry huffed at your defence of the Slytherin boy.

“Oh, you can’t be serious, he’s evil incarnated y/n! He is literally you know whose son, it’s in his blood.” Ron rolled his eyes as Harry nodded in agreement. Hermione huffed in annoyance at the argument that was taking place.

“Just because he is related to you know who doesn’t make him a bad person either! Really Ron, judging people based on blood sounds a tad bit familiar, doesn’t it?” You said, a growing frustration in your voice as you crossed your arms in annoyance at the boy.

“Oh, you’re only saying that because you think he is hot, like all the other girls in this place! You be careful y/n, he will use you if you let him get too close.” Harry added.

“Yeah, he’s only nice to you because he wants to get in your pants!” Ron let out, gesturing wildly with his hands, his own frustrations clearly showing.

“Oh really? Yes, because being partners in potions will definitely lead to sex, as a matter of fact, we’ve already fucked! Ron, did you not see us fucking on the table in potions earlier? I’m sure you saw it Harry, you were right behind us! Oh, wait, that didn’t happen because we were doing the assignment, not each other!” You snapped, letting out your frustrations as the doors to the great hall neared. What you didn’t know was that Mattheo and his friends were walking well within hearing distance from your group, intently listening to the fight you were having with your friends.

“He will weasel his way into your bed, he’s not nice, he is manipulative and you’re falling for it!” Ron accused you as you were now making your way towards Ginny at the Gryffindor table.

“Ron! Insinuating that I will sleep with anyone that is nice to me is really hurtful!” You said, feeling hurt by his words.

“Hey, can we please not fight?” Hermione pleaded as she took a seat next to you and Ginny, who looked confused.

“What are you fighting about?” Ginny asked curiously. Fights amongst your group wasn’t that common, small squabbles, sure, but fights as ugly as this one was becoming had only happened about once or twice in all your years of friendship.

“Ron and Harry being pricks.” You said.

“Evil incarnated” Ron said at the exact same time. Hermione sighed. Ginny let out a chuckle. Harry scoffed.

“What did you do?” She asked, making Ron let out a displeased grunt and Harry an annoyed groan.

“He basically said that the only reason I was defending Mattheo, whom I worked with in potions today, was because I think he is hot” You pointed an accusing finger at Harry.

“And he” You pointed at Ron now “accused me of spreading my legs for anyone that’s nice to me. All because I asked Ronald not to call Mattheo evil spawn, because he was nice to me.” You said, frustration evident in your voice. Ginny gasped.

“It’s true, he’s not a good person y/n! He’s a Riddle!” Ron argued, this time Harry chimed in agreement. You felt tears of frustration pool your eyes.

“I swear if that is your only evidence that he isn’t a good person I’m going hex you. You have no right saying that he isn’t a good person when you don’t know him. What, you base your brilliant deduction from the fact that he fights you, just as you fight him? And you definitely have no right telling me that the only reason I’m defending him is because I find him ‘hot’ and will let him in my bed because he is nice to me, what is wrong with you?!” You burst out. Tears slowly rolling down your cheeks, you hated that you cried when you were angry.

“And you!” You turned to Hermione, hurt that she didn’t at least attempt to back you up.

“Thank you so much for having my back…” You said sarcastically before raising from your seat and storming off. You walked to your dorm, making a beeline for the kitchens to get something to snack on, since you had left dinner before actually eating something. When you got to your dorm you threw your bag on the bed in frustration and changed into some pyjamas. You dried your tears as you put on a long-sleeved shirt and some flannel pyjama pants. Grabbing the snacks you went into the common room again; it was fairly empty since it still was dinnertime. Not feeling like hanging around there you went through the portrait hole and started to make your way towards the astronomy tower. Some air might do you some good. When you finally made it there you sat down and watched the stars as you snacked. You weren’t sure how much time had passed as you sat there thinking about the fight with your friends when you heard voices coming from the entrance of the tower. When you turned around you saw that the voices belonged to the very boy you were fighting about, and his three friends: Theodore Nott, Lorenzo Berkshire and Blaise Zabini. You stared at each other for a moment.

“Princess, what are you doing here?” It was Mattheo who broke the silence.

“Princess?” You, Theodore, Lorenzo and Blaise all questioned at the same time. Mattheo shrugged nonchalantly and sauntered up to where you were sitting on the floor.

“You mind if we join you, darling?” He gestured to the space next to you, you nodded for him to join you, and he sat down next to you, his friends still standing by the entrance in shock of how their friend is behaving.

“You’re trying out different pet names?” you asked with a small smile, he bumped your shoulder with his as he took out a pack of cigarettes, wordlessly offering you one. You declined with a small shake of your head.

“Just trying to figure out which ones makes you get that adorable blush the most.” He said with a cheeky smile as he put the cigarette between his lips.

“Oi, are you dickheads going to stand there all night like fools or are you coming?” He asked over his shoulder to his friends, who all sprang into action. They sat down so that you were sitting in a circle of sorts.

“Princess, dickheads, dickheads, princess.” Mattheo introduced you to his friends, cigarette dangling dangerously from his lips, you let out a snort at that.

“Oh wow, thank you for that extremely informative introduction, Mattheo.” You said sarcastically with an eye roll and then introduced yourself to the two boys you hadn’t met before. He just gave you a cheeky wink and lit his cigarette. The boys started chatting about random stuff as they smoked, you opted to listen rather than speak. You were in a particularly deep thought about the fight with your friends when a hand waved in front of your eyes.

“Huh? Sorry! What did you say?” You asked Theo who had asked you a question.

“I was just asking how it was to work with this idiot in potions today?” He asked again, a small laugh escaped you at his question.

“It was fun, except from that he was so moody in the beginning. ‘Yeah, whatever, just try to keep up’” You mocked him again, making you voice deeper to sound like him, he groaned at your teasing and his friends chuckled.

“Hey, in my defence I thought you were going to be real snarky and mean since you’re friends with Potter and Weasley.” He said with his hands up, half smoked cigarette hanging from his fingers. You frowned at the mention of your friends, the hurt from the fight still raw.

“Yeah, I get that. For the record, I don’t take part in their beefs with people in this school. Well, I did one time, but I don’t like it.” You said shaking your head, Mattheo smiled at you.

“Well, you got me curious now, when did you take part in that sort of drama?” Enzo asked as he looked at you expectantly. You blushed hard at this.

“Oh, I don’t really talk about it.” You mumbled, embarrassed at what you did in second year.

“Oh, please y/n, please tell us.” The boys pleaded with you.

“Okay, fine, ipunchedmalfoyforcallinghermioneabadthing” you said it all in one breath.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“Slower.”

“I punched Malfoy for calling Hermione a bad thing… in second year. I didn’t want to tell you since he’s your friend.” You said, much slower this time. It was quiet for a moment before the guys burst out laughing.

“Omg, that was you?? In second year yeah? Oh my days! He told us it was a guy; you gave him a nosebleed!!” Blaise barked out as he was clutching his stomach.

“Don’t worry darling, we’re not that close with him anyways.” Mattheo assured you between laughter, bumping your shoulder with his again, to which you gave him a grateful smile.

“He said it was a guy who punched him?” You wondered, a small laugh escaping you.

“Yes, he did, he even bragged about him beating the guy up worse.” Enzo added, wheezing as he dried the tears that escaped his eyes.

“What? Nooo he ran away crying.” You said now giggling along with the guys, who got into another laughing fit at that piece of new information.

“Whooo, get yourself a girl who can pack punches,” Theo said, making you blush.

“Well, I defend my friends.” You shrugged, a smile on your lips.

“I’ve been meaning to thank you for that by the way.” Mattheo said after the laughter calmed down, the guys humming in understanding. You, however, were confused.

“What for punching Malfoy?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. Mattheo let out a chuckle at your confusion.

“No, for defending me when your friends talked shit, after potions.” He said, a small smile on his handsome face. You felt the blush come back.

“You heard that?” You squeaked, hands coming up to cover your cheeks, the group let out a chuckle. Memories about you saying that you fucked on a table flooded your brain as embarrassment hit.

“Yeah, we were, uh, right behind you sweetheart.” Mattheo said with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. You were hiding your face in your hands now, only peeking through your fingers.

“Omg, kill me now!” You muttered, feeling completely mortified.

“I must say, my favourite part was definitely the ‘fucking on the table’ part, it really got your point across.” He said and the group laughed at that.

“We were doing the assignment, not each other.” He mocked you, adding to your embarrassment. The rest of the boys laughed at this too.

“Oh shut up!” You squeaked again, still feeling very embarrassed by your choice of words.

“No, but seriously, thank you for defending me, I hope you didn’t fight too bad with your friends.” He said, scratching the back of his neck. His friends, who had calmed down form their laughing fit, were watching your interaction with curiosity.

“Yeah, of course. Please don’t worry about my idiot friends.” You said, glancing down at your slipper clad feet as you rubbed your arms, feeling the cool night air seep through your shirt.

“I can’t help but feel a little responsible…” Mattheo trailed of as he took his hoodie of and draped it around your shoulders, you gave him a small smile as a thanks. His friends looked at each other with surprise at Mattheos behaviour. He was known to be quite the flirt, using girls and then going to the next one. Never had they seen him give his sweaters to any girl, or come to second thought, interact with a girl like he was with you.

“You did nothing wrong Mattheo, Ron was out of line, he said some nasty things, Harry too and Hermione didn’t do anything so…” You said as you shrugged on his hoodie properly, the garment wrapping you in a blanket of warmth and his scent.

“What did he say, if you don’t mind me asking? I skipped potions today” Theo asked cautiously, you gave him a sad smile. Secretly grateful for the fact that his friends didn’t gossip about what had happened.

“So, Ron called Mattheo a bad name, I asked him not to call him that, then Harry basically said that the only reason I was defending him was because I thought that he was hot, and Ron insinuated that I would sleep with anyone that was nice to me. That really hurt my feelings and the fact that they doubled down on that when Ginny asked what was going on hurt even more.” It was quiet when you finished, Theo looked shocked to say the least, the rest of the boys looked angry, having heard the argument in real life.

“Potter and Weasley really said that? To their friend?” Theo then asked in disbelief as you nodded in confirmation.

“Well, they’re prats, but we already knew that.” He then said, making you laugh at how bizarre the whole situation is. Here you were hanging out with the group how almost caused as much trouble as the twins, you were hanging out with the very boy you had defended hours before. It’s funny, because you weren’t known to be a troublemaker, you opted to put your energy into studying, achieving great grades instead. You couldn’t be more opposite these boys, yet here you were, enjoying the time you’re spending with them.

“They’re not even prats, they’re like proper twats.” You laughed, making the others laugh with you this time.

“You know y/n, you’re pretty cool, for being a Gryffindor and all.” Blaise said with a teasing smile.

“Oh, thank you, you guys are really sweet, for being Slytherins that is.” You teased right back.

“Sweet? Sweet?? What are we? Six years old?” Mattheo said, incredulously, the others nodded along with his teasing.

“Yes, you guys are the sweetest bad boys I’ve ever met.” You said, pinching his cheek in a teasing manner. They all jokingly groaned at that. Then you fell into an easy conversation with the group, the boys successfully cheered you up by taking your mind of the fight. They made you feel welcome in their little group, despise you being in a different house than them, you understood that even if you didn’t care about houses others did. You were well aware of their reputation in the school. They were troublemakers, didn’t follow rules, fought whoever ticked them off. People were wary of them, not wanting to get on their bad side and the people who weren’t wary of them disliked them. Your friends were a part of that second group of people. The group of Slytherin boys were also knows to be quite the flirts, being successful with a majority of the girls in school. Your train of thought were cut short when you realised the time.

“Oh, guys we need to get to bed, we have classes in the morning!” You exclaimed, rising to your feet in a hurry. The rest of the group rose lazily, some putting out their cigarettes before casually strolling down the stairs. You were however feeling a bit stressed due to the time and the fact that you were out of bed after curfew, but the boys were as cool as ever. When it came to where you were supposed to part ways to get to your respective common rooms you all hesitated for a moment. Just as you were about to say something Mattheo spoke.

“I’ll walk you to your common room, love.” He said in a low voice, making your eyes widen, so did the rest of the groups. Before you could reply, or even say goodnight to the rest Mattheo put his hand on the small of your back and started to guide you towards the portrait hole. His hand was warm and heavy against the small of your back, only the thick fabric of your his sweater acting as a barrier between the two of you. His hand hung low on your back, it was borderline inappropriate, and you felt your cheeks heat up because of it. You were almost disappointed when the fat lady came into view, shaking the feeling away you turned to him when you reached the top of the stairs.

“Thank you for cheering me up tonight, Mattheo.” You murmured and gave him a small smile; he smiled right back at you. You began to take his hoodie off, to give it back to him when he stopped you by grabbing your wrists. His large hands engulfing your smaller ones.

“Keep it princess.” He murmured and you felt your cheeks warm for what must be the 458th time this evening. You don’t know what came over you, was it his warm hands holding yours? Or was it the low, intimate lighting and the fact that it was in the middle of the night? You don’t know. What you did know was that fact that you rose to the very tips of your toes, your cheeks flushing even harder from what you were about to do and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. His hands were still holding yours as you felt them tense a little. You muttered a soft ‘good night’ into his ear before slipping out of his grip and going through the portrait hole. The small butterflies that resided in your stomach erupted into a storm when the portrait swung closed. You made your way towards your dorm, the common room was completely empty, not unusual considering the time. You snuck into your bed, still feeling giddy, and laid there as you thought about the boy who was Mattheo Riddle. What you didn’t know was that he was thinking about you as he walked back to his common room in the middle of the night.

The next morning you awoke to an empty dorm, you assumed Hermione had left for breakfast with Harry and Ron. You got dressed and headed down towards the great hall for breakfast. When you entered you saw the trio already sitting there eating their breakfast, your usual seat beside Harry was empty. You opted to sit with Ginny and the twins, not feeling like talking to your friends. When you sat down you made eye contact with Theo from across the hall. You gave him a smile and a small wave to which he nodded back at you, with a small smile on his face. He was sitting with his friends; Mattheo was missing from the group however. Before you could even begin to wonder where he was Ginny interrupted you.

“Since when do you know Theodore Nott?” She leaned over with a glint in her eye, having noticed the interaction. You gave her a startled laugh.

“Well, I sort of ran into him his friends yesterday after dinner.” You said with a small smile on your lips. Your cheeks turned the slightest pink as thoughts of Mattheo entered your head.

“So that’s what you were doing?” Fred asked, amusement clear in his voice.

“We missed you in the common room last night.” George mused.

“Oh please, you guys just wanted a new test subject for your new products.” You said with an eyeroll before taking a bite out of your toast.

“Of course not y/n! We wanted to hang out with our favourite goody two shoes.” Fred said, throwing his arm around your shoulders with a smirk on his face. You let out a snort at that.

“But seriously, we want to know everything.” George said, curiosity getting the better of him.

“When you met.” Fred continued.

“How you met.” George said.

“What you did.” Ginny added at the end.

“You guys are the biggest gossips I know.” You said in feigned annoyance with a smile before telling them about how you went to the astronomy tower to think. How they showed up to what was apparently their usual spot for smoking. How you had met Mattheo just hours before in potions. You told them how they cheered you up from the fight with your friends who sat just a couple of seats away. The twins had heard about the fight from Ginny and when you gave them a small recap, they assured you that they gave Ron a piece of their mind. They even said that Ron was blacklisted from Weasley’s Wizards Wheezes, making you smile at the fact that they had your back. You told them that you were up until late after curfew due to how much fun you were having. You didn’t however tell them about how Mattheo gave you butterflies or how you kissed his cheek when he had walked you to the common room.

“What?” George said in disbelief.

“You’re telling me that they got you to stay out until after curfew? You? Little goody two shoes y/n? Never broken a school rule before. This is something else! I recon we should thank these guys, George!” Fred said, not believing his ears. You let out a laugh at this.

“You guys act like I’m some nun! Anyways, I got to get to class.” You said as you got your things and rose to your feet. Fred and George let out comically large sighs at this, making Ginny giggle.

“Doesn’t seem like they made her relaxed enough to not be five minutes early to every class.” Fred groaned.

“You can’t win them all.” George added dramatically. You rolled your eyes with a smile and then with a wave goodbye started to make your way towards your first class of the day. You were glad that the twins and Ginny at least didn’t seem to have a problem with your new friends. The classes dragged on and on until lunch, you were too preoccupied with thinking about your new friends, how nice they were to you. When finally, your last lesson before lunch ended, you quickly packed up your things and made your way out of the classroom. When you exited the classroom, you bumped into Enzo who was exiting the classroom right besides yours.

“Oh, hi y/n, heading to the great hall?” He asked with a smile, silently gesturing for you to join him.

“Hi Enzo, yeah just finished ancient runes, what about you?” You asked, falling into step with him.

“Yeah, I just had history of magic.” He answered. The two of you fell into an easy conversation about school and the classes you were talking as you made your way towards the great hall. As you walked and talked with Enzo you noticed that people were looking warily at you, well more at the boy you were walking with. You noticed some glares and some apprehensive looks. Enzo seemed unbothered by the looks, completely consumed by his rant about how divination is a load of crap.

“Hey, Enzo, can I ask you a question?” You had interrupted him before you could stop yourself. He nodded, looking curious to your shift in demeanour.

“How come you guys are so nice to me?” You voiced a thought that had drifted in your head during the morning.

“What do you mean?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I mean, considering who my friends are, it would be easy to not like me either.” You said, a small frown making its way to your lips. Enzo gave a small smile at that.

“Yeah, but you have always been nice, well of course except to Malfoy but who cares, don’t you remember when we worked together in arithmancy in third year and instead of laughing at me for not understanding, like some would’ve done, you helped me instead?” Enzo explained as you rounded a corner.

“It was the same with Matt, you were kind to him despite his reputation and his family, you even stood up for him when you barley knew him. That is why I, at least, like you.” He said with a smile on his lips. You looked at him shocked, you did remember when you had worked with Enzo, he had a problem with understanding certain things, but that’s not something to laugh about is it? Just as you were about to open your mouth Mattheo and Theo joined you.

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?” Theo asked casually throwing an arm over your shoulders, his other over Enzos. Mattheo walked on the other side of you. You snapped out of your trance at this and directed a chuckle at the boys antics.

“Nothing really, I just met y/n after history of magic.” Enzo shrugged as he gave you a small smile that told you that your conversation would stay with him, you gave him a smile back.

“Oh, so you weren’t talking about how someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves yesterday then?” Mattheo said in a sing song voice, obviously his question hinted at the kiss you had given him outside of your common room. You gripped his arm and gave him a warning squeeze to not say anything, but he just gave you a teasing smirk.

“Why would we talk about you obviously not keeping your hands to yourself?” Enzo deadpanned; Theo let out a laugh at that.

“Princess, you don’t have to leave.”

“Here darling, take my hoodie.”

“You’re so pretty under the stars, love.” The boys mocked their friend who let out a dramatic gasp. You laughed as you felt your blush rise on your face.

“I did not say that!” Mattheo let out in disbelief.

“You so did!” Enzo countered.

“No, I was obviously talking about y/n not being able to keep her hands of me, she even kissed me!” Mattheo let out in light frustration, waving his arms around. The boys paused right in front of the doors to the great hall. It was quiet for a moment before they let out a laugh so loud it drew the attention of all the people in the great hall as they entered.

“Yeah, right!” Theo said.

“Like that happened.” Enzo continued and Mattheo sputtered in shock that his friends didn’t believe him, when he looked at you, he saw that you giggled at this.

“Oh, you think this is funny? Now be a good girl and tell them the truth.” Mattheo said with a smirk as he grabbed your face to make you look him directly in the eyes, your blush making yet an appearance. Theos arm fell of your shoulders as you stared into Mattheos deep brown eyes. His presence invaded your senses, his smell, his warmth. His eyes were soft, but his smirk was prominent on his face. Your expression spoke for itself, and the boys let out sounds of disbelief when they realised that you did actually kiss him.

“What?”

“No way?”

“With his fugly mug?” You let out a laugh at Theos comment before you broke the eye contact with Mattheo and effectively breaking the trance he had put you in.

“On the cheek, I kissed him goodnight on the cheek, gosh you guys are so dramatic!” You corrected with a smile was on your lips. They spluttered as they tried to disagree with your statement. You laughed as you turned to walk towards the Gryffindor table, not before you gave the boys a cheesy smile and a wave goodbye. When you sat down beside Ginny and opposite the twins the group was awfully quiet. When you looked up from your plate you saw that the three of them looked at you with knowing smirks plastered on their faces.

“What?” you asked, your voice squeaking from the attention.

“Don’t you ‘what’ us! What was that all about?” George asked curiously. You gave a small laugh to try to cover up your embarrassment.

“I was just walking to lunch, with Mattheo, Enzo and Theo.” You said with a shrug as you took a bite of your lunch, feigning innocence.

“Not that! The whole almost kissing Riddle thing!” Fred said teasingly. You hadn’t realised that the whole school had seen when Mattheo had grabbed your face, and you certainly hadn’t realised that it looked like he was about to kiss you.

“We were not about to kiss!” You said incredulously. The three of them exchanged knowing glances before continuing to tease you about Mattheo.

It had been three days since that one incident in the great hall, it was now Friday and you were doing some studying in the library, or well, trying to since you ran into Mattheo on the way there. He insisted on joining your study session, what you didn’t know at the time was that it was to bother you while you studied.

“What about this one?” He asked as he held up a tube of lip gloss from your makeup bag. You had opened it to get some lip balm, and it had piqued the Slytherins interest, make up was probably more interesting than the essay he had to write for defence against the dark arts.

“That is lip gloss Mattheo, it makes your lips shine.” You said as you tried to concentrate on the book of ancient runes in front of you. You heard that he put the product back in your little bag and then you felt his presence closer to you. You turned to him to find him staring right back at you. Those butterflies erupted in your stomach again as they did so often when you were with Mattheo. He was staring at you intently, his soft brown eyes traced the outline of your face, your eyes, your nose, your lips, back to your eyes.

“You know you’re beautiful without it right?” He muttered as his eyes continued to trace your face. You didn’t register what he was saying as you were watching him too, your eyes mapping his face, where his scar crossed his eyebrow. The tiny scar on the bridge of his nose, before you knew it you had reached out, your fingers softly tracing the scar across his eye. Mattheo was still staring at you with those Bambi-eyes of his.

“Where did you get this?” You whispered, your fingers still tracing the scar on his face. His eyes never left yours as his hand moved up to his face to cover yours, giving it a soft squeeze. Your palm was flat against his cheek now, feeling his warm skin, while his large hand was covering yours.

“It’s nothing.” He murmured, closing his eyes. The intimate moment made you feel like you were going to explode. He was so close, so intoxicating, his warmth was like an embrace, his scent of mint, nicotine and sandalwood had become familiar, but no less addicting. When he opened his eyes he looked right at you, his gaze soft and gentle. The moment between you were interrupted by footsteps that was coming your way. He let go of your hand which you let fall to your lap. You both then turned back to your respective work, Mattheo actually doing the work this time. It was Hermione who rounded the corner to your table.

“Do you mind if I sit?” She asked carefully, you gave a wary smile and gestured for her to sit. You cast a sideways glance at Mattheo and saw that he wore a stoic look on his face, his eyes trained on Hermione.

“I’m really sorry that I didn’t defend you y/n, I really am!” Hermione let out when she had sat down, and you felt like some of the weight that had been on your shoulders lifted. You gave a smile before reaching over the table to give your friend a hug.

“Thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me!” You said as you sat back down in your chair.

“Besides, I’ve really missed you.” You said as you smiled at each other.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Hermione meet Mattheo, Mattheo, Hermione.” You introduced them and they nodded at each other, a bit awkwardly. Mattheos face did soften a bit at Hermione’s apology. After dinner you and Hermione hung out in your shared dorm, Ginny had joined you after a while. The hot topic that was being discussed was your newfound friendship with the Slytherin boys. Ginny was happily filling Hermione in on the details about a certain boy that you conveniently left out.

“They did sit rather close to each other in the library earlier…” Hermione thought out loud, Ginny let out a squeal at this piece of new information.

“Oh! Hermione I didn’t tell you about how he was about to kiss her in the great hall!” Ginny said excitedly. You spluttered at that.

“He did not try to kiss me, Ginny! You can’t just say that!” You said your voice high pitched with embarrassment.

“What did he do then y/n?” Hermione asked an amused smirk playing on her lips, Ginny was practically bouncing on your bed with excitement as she explained the moment between the two of you.

“It was nothing!” You said shyly.

“It was totally something!!” Ginny exclaimed excitedly.

“It did sound like something y/n! Come on you can at least admit that you think he’s cute.” Hermione said teasingly, you kept quiet for a moment, deliberating whether you should answer or not. You did think that Mattheo was cute, of course you did. He is stunning, curly hair, dark brown eyes, charming smile, those butterflies erupted in your stomach again.

“Okay, fine, yes he is cute.” You let out in defeat and the girls let out squeals of excitement.

“I knew it!” Ginny let out in triumph as you and Hermione laughed at her but before either of you could reply a knock could be heard at the door. Still chuckling from the previous conversation, you hopped of your bed and went to open the door. Outside of your dorm was a shy first year. Taken aback by the little boy you stuck your head out of your door to look around.

“Can I, uh help you?” You asked curiously while looking at the boy who was too shy to meet your eyes. He quickly thrusted a note in your hands before taking of, running away. You held on to the note, utterly confused as you closed your door and turned back to your friends.

“What is it?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t know, a note.” You replied as you showed them the note.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Read it!” Ginny urged. You unfolded the note and sat down on your bed again, Ginny and Hermione coming closer to read it over your shoulder.

“Evening darling,

I was hoping you would get your little butt out of your dorm and join us for a smoke in the astronomy tower (I know you don’t smoke but I would love some company since I can feel myself loosing IQ-points from hanging out with the guys for too long). I’m waiting for you outside of the portrait.

- M.R.

P.S. get a sweater, it’s cold out”

Ginny and Hermione squealed in excitement as they shook your shoulders.

“Oh, you have to go y/n!!!” Ginny said excitedly.

“Yes, have fun on your dateeee!” Hermione said in a sing song voice as she threw Mattheos sweater in your face.

“It’s not a date, the others will probably be there too.” You defended as you subconsciously slipped on his sweater and put on your slippers. The girls practically pushed you out of your dorm, giggling like mad men as they closed the door behind you. With a smile and shake of your head you started to head towards the exit of the common room. When you exited the portrait, you paused at the scene in front of you. Harry and Ron had Mattheo cornered, the latter looking more agitated by the second.

“I don’t care, Riddle” Harry spat his name “you’re outside my common room, so I believe it is my business.”

“And I don’t care that it’s your common room, it’s none of your business, Potter” Mattheo spat back. He was a good deal taller than Harry, just a couple of centimetres above Ron. He was staring down on them, with a glare so intense it sent shivers down your spine. This was the Mattheo the rest of the school saw, cold, irritated, bad-tempered Mattheo, not the nice, caring boy you saw.

“If you think you’re here to see y/n you have another thing coming.” Ron gritted out through clenched teeth. Harry nodded in agreement and Mattheo clenched his jaw in annoyance. You noticed the shift in the air as Ron said this. Mattheo looked almost angry now, not wanting the situation to escalate you let your presence be known.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You spoke as you walked around them and placed yourself in front of Mattheo, reaching your hand back to grab his, in what you thought would be a comforting manner. Harry and Ron looked shocked at what you said.

“Wait, y/n you’re taking his side again?” Harry said with a scoff.

“Well, was he doing anything wrong when you got here?” You asked annoyed with their behaviour, it was Ron who scoffed this time. Remembering his thoughts as to why you defended Mattheo the last time you spoke you whirled on him.

“You got something to say, Ron?” You asked, your own irritation bubbling up to the surface. You could feel a grounding squeeze on your hand by Mattheo. You gave him a thankful look.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact I do! It’s clear why you’re defending him, he has clearly gotten in your pants! He’s playing with you, he is using you y/n, how can you be so stupid not to see that?” Ron let out his frustration. It felt like time stopped. It felt like your heart shattered when you heard Ron, your friend since first year, utter those words. You felt tears well up in your eyes.

“Ron, you’re so out of line.” You said through your tears, and you felt Mattheo move to stand beside you, his hand moving from yours to your back, rubbing comforting circles there to soothe you. He was giving Ron an icy glare as he comforted you as your tears now flowed freely.

“You better watch your mouth, Weasley.” He said, his tone cold.

“Hey, don’t threaten him!” Harry said, taking his friends side, Mattheo let out a cold, slow laugh at Harrys reaction.

“Oh, that’s really something, Potter. I knew you were a git, but I thought that you treated your friends better than this. You should be glad that y/n is here, otherwise I would beat the shit out of you two for saying shit like this.” Mattheo said angrily before taking you had in his and leading you away from them. Tears were streaming down your face at your friends words, you could hear that Harry and Ron were saying something behind you, but you couldn’t hear what, your ears were ringing. When you rounded a corner Mattheo stopped you. He pulled you into an embrace and ran his hand up and down you back in a comforting manner as you cried into his chest. Slowly the tears came to a stop and you peaked up at him, he gave you a worried look.

“I’m sorry” You mumbled, feeling embarrassed for crying on him, he gave you a small smile

“You, my love, have nothing to be sorry for. Now for Weasley and Potter it’s a different story.” You could see how his face went cold when he talked about them and you could feel how his grip on your waist tightened. He then did something that shocked you, he placed a kiss on your forehead. For him it seemed like it was the most natural thing in the world as he pulled you into his arms again, but it made your brain short-circuit. You could feel how he rested his head atop of yours as he held you. You let yourself relax in his arms for a moment before slightly pulling away again and looking up at him.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, his eyes soft again, as he brought his hand up to your face to wipe away the last remaining tears there.

“I’ve been better?” It came out more as a question as you were more focused on his large, warm palm on your face. He gave you a small smile and a chuckle slipped out from his lips.

“We don’t have to hang out with the others if you don’t want to…” He said tenderly as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You shook your head, giving the boy a small smile.

“No, I think some cheering up could do me good.” You said. You were still heartbroken from Rons words. That’s the thing with Ron, he will find the most hurtful things to say when he is mad at someone.

“Alright then, but if you want to go you let me know, okay?” He said, grabbing your face with both of his hands searching your face for any uncertainty. You gave a small smile and nodded. With a short nod himself he grabbed your hand as you started walking towards the astronomy tower. His hand in yours was grounding and comforting as he intertwined your fingers, his thumb stroking your knuckles. The walk was silent, you could see how Mattheos jaw clenched and unclenched as you walked, presumably thinking about what had just happened. You had never seen him angry up close before but when he was staring Harry and Ron down you had to admit that he looked scary. He had the same look now as you walked together and while you weren’t scared of him you could see why people where. You would probably fear him too if it weren’t for the way he was holding your hand. When you reached the top of the stairs in the astronomy he didn’t let go, the group of boys quieted down when they heard your footsteps.

“Look who finally stopped making out in a broom closet and decided to joi-” It was Theo who spoke first but stopped himself when he saw your faces, yours with streaks of tears and Mattheos looking like he could kill someone. “What happened?” He then asked seriously, and Mattheo moved to sit down, brining you with him, making you sit down so close to him that your legs touched. He didn’t once make a move to let go of your hand, the feeling was probably as grounding for him as it was to you. He had it in his lap now, playing with the rings on your fingers as he frowned at Theos question. Balise and Enzo both looked at you worriedly and you decided to speak.

“We ran into Harry and Ron.” You said your voice hoarse from the crying. You felt his grip on your hand tighten before he looked up.

“I was waiting for her outside the common room. Those two twats decided to corner me and then y/n came and Weasley” He spat out the name “said some really foul things to her.” His grip was firm now and you gave him a reassuring squeeze that made him look at you and his face softened as his eyes met yours.

“They’re dead.” Blaise said coldly, Enzo and Theo nodded slowly in agreement. You felt the cold queasy feeling of anxiety creep up from the pit of your stomach.

“Guys, please don’t fight them because of me, please.” You said, panic evident in your voice, the thought making you sick. You didn’t want any of your friends to be hurt, neither your new ones or your old ones. Because despite that you’re fighting you still consider Harry and Ron your friends, maybe not as close as before, but still friends. You felt Mattheo pull you to him so that you were sitting in between his legs, his arms wrapping protectively around you as he soothed you. His scent of nicotine, mint and sandalwood enveloped you like a hug.

“Don’t worry love, we won’t fight anyone if that’s what you want.” He mumbled into your hair before kissing your head. You felt your panic settle slowly and as you looked at the others you saw for the first time that they weren’t giving Mattheo cheesy looks like they usually did when he showed you affection or flirted with you. They looked angry, like they didn’t even notice the way Mattheo was holding you.

“But they can’t just treat our friend like that!” Enzo said, anger in his voice. What you noticed was the use of the word friend. They saw you as their friend. You don’t know why it hit you like this, you considered the boys your friends after the first time you met them in the astronomy tower, but the fact that they considered you their friend as well made you feel warm.

“Listen darling, I can promise that we won’t initiate any fights with them” Mattheo looked pointedly at Enzo as he said this. “But if they start one…” You slowly nodded; it seemed like a fair compromise even if you didn’t like it. The others nodded too.

“We can always beat them of their brooms in our next quidditch match.” Blaise let out, you let out a chuckle when you saw the small teasing smile on his face. The thing was that you wouldn’t be surprised if the Slytherin beaters accidentally did club Harry of his broom in the next match. Slowly the tense conversation eased into lighter topics, you could still see that the boys were angry from what happened earlier but you were glad that they slowly found their way back to their normal selves. You were still sitting between Mattheos legs, his arm around your back and his other hand in your lap. You were now playing with his rings as your head rested against his chest. You were feeling drained from all that happened and the vibrations in Mattheos chest from when he was talking was soothing you, making you sleepier by the moment. You heard that the boys went from talking loudly to low murmurs as you slipped in and out of sleep. The warmth of Mattheos large hand on your back under your shirt was the last thing you felt before dosed off, head nestled on his chest as he smoked his cigarette, comfortably rubbing the bare skin of your back.

You awoke some time later. The guys were still murmuring to each other lowly. You could feel Mattheos warm body against yours just like how you fell asleep, your fingers still clutching his. You could feel his other hand against the bare skin of your back.

“Good morning sleeping beauty.” Theo said teasingly when he saw that you were awake. You let out a yawn and you felt Mattheo chuckle.

“You comfortable there?” Blaise said joining in on the teasing, making you blush.

“Yeah, actually, Matty here is very comfy.” You said cheekily while cuddling closer to the boy. He chuckled and his hand found your waist under your shirt and gave it a squeeze.

“You sure you and Matty weren’t actually making out in the broom closet before you came here?” Enzo said with a smirk on his face and the others started cackling.

“Oh, shut up Enzo!” Mattheo let out with a chuckle and you were blushing hard at the insinuation. You get as to why they are teasing you though. You were sitting on the floor with Mattheo, you between his legs as your side are pressed to his chest and your legs were draped over one of his. His arm around your back and his other hand in your lap. You really did understand why they were teasing you, but it didn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed by their teasing. Enzo stuck his tongue out at you two which made you laugh.

“But seriously, how long was I asleep?” You asked and they chuckled at you.

“About 30 minutes.” Theo said and you sat up straighter.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep when we were supposed to hang out.” You apologised with a small frown.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, princess, you just needed some sleep. We don’t blame you.” Mattheo said softly, engulfing your hand in his. You could hear the other snigger at you two but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when you could feel yourself getting lost in his chocolate brown eyes. Those eyes who were looking at you intently, with a softness not many had ever seen.

“Don’t worry about it princess.” Blaise said in a voice mocking Mattheos.

“Oh, Matty, you’re so nice and handsome.” Theo said in a high-pitched voice that you assumed was supposed to be you.

“I’m so dark and twisted but for you I’m nice and sweet, look I even cuddle.” Enzo joined in with a dark voice that was supposed to sound like Mattheo. This made you burst out laughing. Mattheo rolled his eyes but couldn’t supress his amused smile.

“You guys are the worst!” You said as you laughed at them, the three boys were sitting there with cheeky grins on their faces.

“No, you guys are the worst, sitting like that making us feel like third, fourth and fifth wheels.” Blaise said with a teasing eyeroll. You chuckled at that.

“Aww, Blaisie you could always cuddle each other.” You said in a mockingly sweet voice making Mattheo chuckle. Blaise made a face at the thought of cuddling Enzo and Theo.

“Oh, come on Blaise, it wouldn’t be that bad.” Mattheo said, enjoying that you were finally the ones doing the teasing. Sensing an opening you turned to the boy whose lap you were practically sitting in.

“How would you know, Matty? Is cuddling a common practice in the Slytherin dorms?” You asked looking up at the boy with a smirk on your face. He was smirking right back at you.

“You have no idea.” Mattheo said jokingly making you laugh. The banter continued between your group long into the night, successfully cheering you up yet again. This night ended in the same way, Mattheo was walking you to your common room, with a hand on the low of your back. When you reached the portrait hole you turned to him and quietly thanked him for tonight. When you were about to turn around to go into your common room he grabbed your wrist.

“Hey, where is my goodnight kiss?” He said, a small pout on his lips. His question made your blush make yet another appearance on your cheeks. You smiled at the boy who was looking at you expectantly. You put your hands on his shoulders, his found your waist, rose to the very tips of your toes and you placed a kiss on his cheek, just like the first time he walked you back. With a shy smile you let go of him, murmured a soft goodnight and then went in through the portrait hole. You didn’t miss the broad smile on his face as he turned around to get back to his own common room.

The next morning you awoke with a smile on your face as memories from the night before flooded to your brain. It was around 9 when you woke up and you saw that Hermione was awake and reading a book in her bed. When she saw that you were awake, she put down her book and came to your bed, begging for details about your night. You told her about everything. Needing someone to vent to you told her about what Harry and Ron did, all the physical affection between you and Mattheo, the teasing from the boys, all of it. Hermione was giving you her thoughts about the situation as you got ready for the day. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, for which you both were excited. You needed to refill your snack drawer. As you exited your dorm you ran into Ginny and the three of you started to walk through the common room together on your way to breakfast. You joined the twins at the Gryffindor table, Harry and Ron were sitting a few places away from you, Ron sent you a nasty look which Hermione sent a glare back. She was very upset with them for what they did yesterday, Ginny and the twins too as soon as they were filled in on what happened.

The conversation switched to lighter topic as your group made their way to Hogsmeade. When you reached the village the twins left you for Zonko’s. You, Ginny and Hermione walked around in different shops but ultimately found your way to Honeydukes to fill up on snacks. You hadn’t seen any of the Slytherin boys all day and you were wondering if they even went to Hogsmeade today. While you were in Honeydukes you picked out different types of sweets to give to them, in case they didn’t get to go. After Honeydukes you all carries heavy bags of sweets. You stopped by The Three Broomsticks for some butterbeers before heading back to the castle. When you finally got back you dumped your sweets in their designated drawer before grabbing the bag you bought for the boys.

“Hey, Hermione, I’m just going to give this to the guys okay? See you in a bit.” You said as you leaved your dorm. When you exited the common room it struck you that you had no idea where they were. Deciding to check the astronomy tower first you started to make your way there. However, when you arrived it was empty. You checked the library after that, also empty. The great hall, empty. It left you no choice, you went down into the dungeons, on your way you met a Slytherin girl in your year that you were friendly with, Daphne Greengrass. You made small talk as you walked together towards the Slytherin common room. She was kind enough to tell you the password after letting you in. The Slytherin common room was quite different from Gryffindors. It had large windows that showed you the bottom of the black lake, large black couches and some fireplaces with warming fires going. Despite what you heard about it, their common room was cozy. You looked out the windows into the black lake and saw all sorts of fish and other creatures. The guys weren’t here either though.

“Excuse me, do you where Mattheos dorm is?” You asked a 7th year who lazily pointed you in the direction of his dorm. You walked up the stairs and made your way to where the 7th year showed you. You noticed that no one batted an eye at your presence in their common room, nor when you asked for the boys dormitories. Funny how different it would’ve been if the roles were reversed, and the boys were wandering around the Gryffindor common room. Stopping in front of the door you assumed was Mattheos and the rests dorm you took a deep breath before knocking. You waited, no answer. You listened intently and you heard their voices, they must’ve not heard you. You knocked again, harder this time and you heard footsteps nearing the door. It opened and before you were Enzo.

“Oh y/n! Come in. What are you doing here?” He asked curiously as he stepped aside for you to enter. You noticed that you walked into not a dorm but a hall full of doors.

“You guys have your own private dorms?” You asked in disbelief to which he chuckled and gave you a ‘yeah’ as he led you to one of the doors where you could hear shouts and someone groaning. You gave him an uncertain glance which he replied with a small smile before opening the door. Before you were a sight to behold. Mattheo was sitting on the bed, shirtless and bloody. He had dried blood coming from his nose, down his chin and chest, and a cut on his eyebrow. He held a bloody rag to his nose as he listened to Theo and Blaise cuss him out. You dropped the bag of sweets in shock of the scene making the boys freeze and look at you, like deer caught in headlights.

“You’re hurt.” You said with a frown as you stood in the doorway. Mattheo let out a breath.

“It’s nothing love, what are you doing here?” He asked, trying to change the subject.

“What happened?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Blaise chuckled at how you didn’t let up.

“Nothing darling, don’t worry.” He said, winching as he tried to smile, you now noticed a cut in his lip too.

“I’m not stupid Mattheo.” The guys chuckled at how you pursed your lips at him “If I heal you, will you talk?” You asked giving him a pointed look to which he nodded defeated. You bent down, grabbed the bag of sweets and placed it at the desk before moving to stand in front of him, your wand ready.

“Talk first.” You demanded, making the others cackle.

“She drives a hard bargain.” Theo said, amused as he watched the scene unfold. Mattheo mumbled something under his breath that you didn’t catch, the others cackled louder at this. You whirled around and glared at them.

“Shut up” You hissed at them before turning to the boy you were harbouring a crush on.

“What? Use your big boy words.” You said, annoyance in your voice, you could hear the others snigger quietly, making you send glares at them.

“I might have heard McLaggen talk about, uh, someone and I sort of beat him up.” He said sheepishly. You rose an eyebrow at the boy.

“You beat up McLaggen for talking about someone, about who?” You pressed to which he shrugged. You narrowed your eyes at him and then the others who all held up their hands in surrender.

“Why would you do that?” You asked, he shrugged again with a sigh of annoyance you quickly healed him to which he was grateful.

“You’re so annoying.” You mumbled under your breath to which he beamed.

“Yes, but you still love me.” He said in a sing song voice to which you rolled your eyes, but a small smile crept up on your lips.

“Anyways, the reason I decided to bless you with my presence was to give you guys this. I didn’t see you in Hogsmeade today, but since you were busy beating people up for talking about others, I now know why.” You said pointedly as you gave them the bag of sweets, still feeling quite annoyed.

“Oh, y/n this is really nice of you.” Blaise said taken aback.

“You really didn’t have to…” Theo muttered as Enzo and Mattheo murmured in agreement. This made you soften, your annoyance with the boys slowly fading away. You busied yourself with wetting a cloth with some water before slowly walking over to the bed where Mattheo was sitting stunned. You handed him the wet cloth, he accepted it with a small smile, blood still on his face.

“Haven’t anyone brought you a gift before?” You asked softly as the boys stared at the candy, Mattheo cleaning of the dried blood of his face and chest. They shook their heads no at your question.

“We aren’t the most liked people in school, as you know.” Enzo muttered fiddling with the packaging of a chocolate frog. This broke your heart.

“Well, I like you and I will always bring you something from Hogsmeade if you can’t make it.” You said determination in your voice making the boys look at you with wide eyes.

“Like you said, we’re friends, and I like to bring gifts to my friends.” You said with a smile, the boys slowly smiled too. You saw appreciative looks on their faces when you looked around the room, when your eyes landed on Mattheo next to you, you noticed that he had missed some blood.

“Here, let me.” You said softly and you reached to grab the cloth before wiping away some blood on his eyebrow. The look he was giving you now was the same one he gave you in the library. It made your breath catch in your throat, your movements coming to a halt as your eyes caught his. He was looking at you with those Bambi-eyes, butterflies erupted in your stomach, just like they usually did with him. His hand gripped your thigh, not in a sexual way, it was more like he was assuring himself that you really were there.

“You’re too good to us.” He murmured as he held your gaze, you cleared your throat, continuing to wipe away blood, from his chest now.

“I’m not, I just appreciate you guys, you’ve been really nice to me.” You said, a small smile on your lip as you threw the cloth in the trash.

“Well, that settles it, you can never leave us, I’m too attached now.” Blaise said with a cheesy smile on his face as he made his way to you and before you knew it, he pulled you into a bone crushing hug, lifting you up in the air. You squealed and kicked your legs.

“Ahh Blaise, put me down! I won’t leave you okay!” You said in between laughter, he was laughing too before setting you down. You didn’t have much time on the ground before Enzo and Theo went to hug you too, crushing you just like Blaise. Laughter filled the room from your squealing. When you were finally released you collapsed onto the bed, feeling winded.

“So, this is how you show your appreciation, by breaking your friends ribs?” You chuckle before leaning on your elbows looking at the boys who were grinning from ear to ear.

“No but we can break other people’s ribs if you need us to” Mattheo said which earned him a slap on his shoulder from you.

“You’re such a boy! And put a shirt on you heathen.” You said as you stuck your tongue out at him which earned some laughter from the others.

“Don’t try to pretend that you don’t enjoy the view.” He said wiggling his eyebrows at you, making you laugh before hitting his head with a pillow. He let out a grunt of shock before grabbing the pillow from your hand making you panic.

“Please don’t hit me I brought you candy!” You said as you braced for impact, but it never came instead you heard a groan from the boy.

“You can’t just pull that card, now I’ll feel bad if I hit you!” He pouted making you let out a breath of relief as the others laughed. Mattheo put the pillow down and went to put a shirt on, to your very secret disappointment. You all hung out in what you learned was Theos dorm, you were snacking and just chatting about anything and everything. It was around 8 in the evening when he tried to kick you out, but he wouldn’t give a reason.

“Ah, Theos girlfriend is coming soon.” Enzo teased as he stood up from his place by the desk, Blaise and Mattheo stood up as well.

“Omg Theo? You never told me you had a girlfriend! Who is she? How long have you been together? How did you meet?” You asked eagerly as you turned to Theo who now looked slightly uncomfortable.

“Well, y/n, we’re not together in uh that sense…” Theo trailed off, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. It took you a moment to realise what he meant you made a face which made the others laugh. Mattheo grabbed your hands to drag you up from your spot on the bed.

“Well, let’s go then darling, let Theo have some fun with his non-girlfriend.” He said with a laugh as you made another face, Enzo and Balise had already left for their own dorms.

“Come on love, it’s just sex, it’s no big deal.” He said with an amused smile on his face.

“It’s not the sex, it’s the way you’re phrasing it!” You said with your nose scrunched, making both Theo and Mattheo chuckle. You shook your head at them as you gave Theo a wave before letting Mattheo drag you out of Theos dorm. Mattheo started to walk towards another door in the hall, he gave you a look as to tell you to follow him before he opened the door and sauntered into what you assumed was his dorm. You followed him in, closing the door behind you, and looked around. His dorm was neat, he had shelves of books and records, you let your fingers trace the backs of them as Mattheo flopped down on his bed, watching you.

“I didn’t know you liked to read?” You said softly as you picked up a copy of the muggle book Moby Dick, turning it over in your hand as you looked at him. He shrugged before putting his arms behind his head.

“I had a lot of time when I was little, I guess the habit just stuck.” He answered your question nonchalantly. You smiled as you put the book back in its place. You sat down on the bed, looking at him.

“What?” He asked curiously, a small smile on his face. You let out a shy laugh before turning your body fully too him.

“You’re full of surprises, Mattheo Riddle.” You said softly.

“Oh yeah? Good or bad?” He asked, a soft smile on his face as he sat up to face you.

“Only good.” You said as you reached out to brush one of his stray curls out of his eyes. The tension from earlier made it’s way back between you. The air turned thick and heavy. Your hand hovered awkwardly by his cheek for a moment before he grabbed it in his larger one. You had shifted closer to him now as his other hand caressed your cheek.

“You really are too good to us, to me.” He murmured as his thumb traced your cheekbone. You didn’t know what to say, you were lost in his chocolate brown eyes, the feeling of his hand against your face, the whole of him. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. His hand moved to grip the hair in the back of your neck, a soft, yet steady grip as he closed his eyes. He looked like he was in pain as he opened his eyes again. Your heart was thumping loudly in your chest, you would be surprised if he didn’t hear your heartbeat. You don’t know how it slipped out it just did, but the world seemed to stop when you uttered those words.

“Kiss me, Matty.” The restraint he showed earlier completely vanished and his lips were on yours in a soft, passionate kiss. His hands moved to your waist as he lifted you into his lap, so you were straddling him. Your hands found their home in his hair, grabbing the ends of it, making him groan into your lips. His hands moved under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your waist.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect.” He grunted against your lips as he gripped the soft flesh of your hips. He was kissing you again, more intensely this time, his tongue was in your mouth exploring every part of it, hands gripping your hips firmly. He flipped you over mid kiss so that you were laying under him, his arms at either side of your head, and continued to kiss you.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you in potions.” He said as he kissed down your neck as you let out small moans. He pulled back to look at you, your hair was fanned out on his pillow as you laid there under him. You were looking up at him with big eyes, lips swollen and red from all the kissing. His hand grabbed your chin as he looked you in the eyes, vulnerability shone in his eyes.

“Please tell me that you’re mine, I can’t kiss you again without knowing that you’re mine.” He said, his voice strained, and your heart stopped. Your eyes widened in shock. Mattheo was known for not doing commitment, yet here he was, asking you to be his.

“What?” You asked, shock evident in your voice.

“Fuck, yes love, all I want is you. I think about you before I go to bed, right after I wake up, I can’t eat, sleep or do anything without you being on my mind. Hell, it was you McLaggen talked about, he didn’t even say anything bad, and I still saw red. You’re fucking perfect, you’re too good for me, yet you make me want to rip my heart out of my chest and give it to you if that’s what it takes for you to be mine, my girlfriend, my whatever you’re willing to be.” He said his eyes closed and his head dipped in the crook of your neck. Your hands pulled his face up so you could look at him. His eyes were searching yours for any sign of anything.

“Do you really mean that, Matty?” You whispered to which he nodded. Your face broke out in a wide smile, his face slowly matching yours.

“Then I’m yours, your girlfriend, as long as you’re mine, my boyfriend.” You said, using his words from just moments before. You have never seen a wider smile on his face before. He leaned down again and gave you the sweetest kiss you’ve ever felt. You spent the rest of the night cuddled up in his bed, kissing, talking, cuddling, Mattheo even read to you at some point of the evening. He read a chapter of Little Women, a muggle novel he said he thought you might like. At some point you fell asleep in his arms, your head comfortably nestled on his chest. It was the best sleep you have had for a long time. When you awoke the next day Mattheo was still holding you, his hand firmly on your waist. He looked so peaceful as he slept, his curls messy, his mouth slightly open as soft snores escaped him. You reached a hand up to caress your boyfriends face, his eyes shot open the second you touched him.

“Sorry” you whispered as you stroked his hair out of his face.

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming.” He rasped, his voice thick with sleep. A blush spread across your cheeks at his voice. You let out a giggle at his words.

“You’re not, Matty.” You said softly before giving him a soft kiss on the lips to which he responded immediately by kissing you back and rolling you over so that he was on top of you. He deepened the kiss groaning at the feeling of your hands in his hair. Before anything else could happen, you were interrupted by his door slamming open.

“Rise and shi-” You heard Blaise say before falling completely silent.

“Sorry mate, we didn’t know you had a girl over.” This was Enzo, you assumed they couldn’t see that it was you based on how Mattheo was over you. He gave you a short smirk before looking back at the three boys who stood in the doorway. When he shifted his position, the boys got a clear view of your face.

“No”

“Fucking”

“Way.” They said in disbelief as they saw you, although fully clothed, under Mattheo, in his bed, in the morning. Mattheo chuckled as you let out an embarrassed laugh. Mattheo rolled off you, making you miss his warmth, and the two of you sat up.

“When did this happen?” Enzo asked and you explained what happened, choosing to leave out some of the more intimate details.

“Look, I’m so happy for you and all but seriously, if you were touchy, feely before I can’t even imagine what it will be like now!” Blaise groaned as you were walking to breakfast, Mattheos arm securely around your waist.

“Do you really think they can get worse?” Theo pondered with a smirk on his face. Mattheo rolled his eyes and gave your waist a squeeze, making you smile as your friends discussed the matter at hand. When you entered the great hall, you didn’t have time to think before you were pulled to the Slytherin table to sit with your boyfriend. You were talking and laughing as you ate your breakfast. You caught Fred and Georges eye, just as you did Theos in the beginning of your friendship, the twins gave you a cheeky wink each and wiggled their eyebrows. Then they leaned over to say something to Hermione and Ginny who were sitting with their backs to you. The girls turned around as saw you sitting with Mattheo, his arm around you waist, they smiled at you and then turned around to talk intently with the twins. You turned your attention back to your boyfriend who were arguing with Theo about something. What you didn’t notice were the looks from Harry and Ron, they saw your genuine smile when you looked at Mattheo, they also saw how Mattheo looked at you like you were the one who hung the stars and the moon. They realised then what a big mistake they made.

They caught up with you when you had left the boys to go change in your dorms, with a promise to join them again once you had freshened up.

“y/n, please wait up.” Harry shouted as they ran up to you. You stopped and turned to them, a wary look on your face.

“Please, y/n we’re really sorry for how we behaved.” Harry said, an apologetic look on his face.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry for saying that you would sleep with anyone who is nice to you, I know you would never do that, you’re like one of the smartest people I know.” Ron said, him too looking apologetic.

“When we heard that Riddle beat up McLaggen for talking about you, we sort of realised that he might not be using you.” Ron added.

“I forgive you.” You said slowly. Harry and Ron straightened.

“You do?” The asked, hopeful.

“Yeah, but what you said really hurt. I miss my friends though.” You said with a smile as you gave them hugs. You walked with them to the common room, joking as you did before all the drama. You filled Hermione and Ginny in on your recent development in your relationship with Mattheo as you went around your dorm to freshen up. You were eager to get to him. When you finally had changed and freshened up you hurried through the castle to the dungeons and when you finally reached your boyfriends dorm you walked in and jumped on him as he was laying on the bed, reading. He let out a grunt as you landed on him.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” He asked with a smile as he put the book away. You explained what had happened, about how Harry and Ron apologized and how happy it made you that you were finally friends again. Mattheo beamed at you before pulling you in for a kiss, one of many to come. Everything was finally right, and you couldn’t be happier.

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 9

[prompt: problematic relationships]

male reader x nana

10k words

"Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it?" Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt. "You, me - us?"

And here, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.

So, go ahead, cue up the sound of a mental rolodex spinning out while you start to list the very real, very valid, very adult reasons you should never, ever put your hands on her. (1) She's too young for you, (2) you're kind of a community figure, or at least someone who has to appear to be one, and more pertinently (3) she was your student not long enough ago - in your ethics class, the irony of which is not lost on you - and that makes it the kind of dirty, low thing you'd feel guilty for even masturbating to. Let alone actually attempt to live through, no matter how insistent some parts of you might be to the contrary, a point emphasized by the pressure of her finger against the dip just below your sternum.

"These... oh, how should I call them." Nana hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"

-

You're a high school teacher, interdisciplinary. Sometimes history, other times philosophy, you've also taught math - and once, egregiously, home economics when the faculty member whose usual duties consisted of teaching the class was out on a very sudden and scandalous maternity leave. But it's your love of literature that finds you in a bookstore near enough to the high school to sell more used copies of intro textbooks than actual novels.

You're paging through a book you'd say you're considering buying - if any of the store staff were to push the question onto you - when she appears at the other end of the fiction aisle.

You catch the look first of her dyed hair, this perfect shade of chocolate, to the edges, the fade-to-brown, cascading over where a more formal shirt would ostensibly have shoulders.

She smiles; it's pretty.

Then, you make the mistake of glancing down and seeing the modest rise of her chest beneath a crisp-collared sleeveless top; all your typical college-age tells but for the red flannel, rolled back down around her waist. Her fingers, long and thin, dangle from where a uniform button-down would taper off around her wrist, thumb rubbing lazily at her forearm. The briefest glimpse of her nails, all done up in acrylic - perhaps the most potent way to show contempt for an old dress-code.

You have, admittedly, also noticed the length (appropriately, the lack thereof) of her pleated skirt and those frilly stockings that ride so far up the creamy curves of her thighs that it has your stomach rolling and tightening when she shuts closed the book in her hands and says -

"Isn't it weird how most of the novels in the romance section are written by women?”

- she speaks with a slow deliberateness, like she'd only ever hoped to find one of her old teachers alone and slightly vulnerable in a used bookstore -

“Like, how do you think a man would even go about writing those kinds of stories?" She grins, because maybe this isn't really a question at all - not one meant for you, certainly. And for one wild moment, the rush of relief (she's not actually talking to you), then panic (she's actually talking to you.) surges through you.

But then the girl pushes another couple books along the shelf and continues.

"Because I'll tell you what, Professor - all this stuff," a flip-flip-flip of her fingertips against a leathery dustjacket, "about just feeling it, not being able to control it. It's all women, always women." Another wave of her hand to set another row of spines a-shuddering. "Do you ever think maybe people will get tired of listening to girls talking about feelings when what they really need to see is what guys would do?"

There are so many reasons you should turn and run. 

So many little flags, flickering wildly in your mind. This is one of your students. Was it this fall? Maybe the last; she had sat front-center. Never slept in, was one of your best by several measures - not simply in regards to the simple repetition of classroom work, but by her insistence on getting in the kind of heated discussion where one might dig their fingers through the innards of your lectures. Not just good - fantastic.

"Nayeon," you end up saying, flat as your suddenly paper-dry mouth can make it - with just the tiniest hint of unease. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

And almost as if she knows that you're trying not to let your eyes dip any lower than the collar of her shirt, her shoulders do that lilting little move (hiking up and away just so), the one that your girls tend to learn a long, long time before your boys ever manage to figure out. She laughs out this pleasant sound, adds: "not that long, sir."

"Well," you're clearing your throat, looking around the bookstore like it might contain a way out, and eventually landing somewhere on her skirt, "you know how fast it all goes."

"Nana, by the way."

“I’m sorry?”

“Nana,” She gently corrects you again with this mischievous slant to her smile, and you start remembering: all the gossip and rumors, how she was being courted by these talent-scouts and labels. A prodigy, or as close to it as anyone from this town could ever get.

Your eyes are starting to sting again when she, this perfect-fit model of your worst impulses, runs her hand through her hair, tugging at the roots a little bit, a silver wristwatch falling slightly down the perfect length of her forearm. It almost hurts not to reach out and steady her. And it definitely shouldn't, but it has you breathing a bit faster. The rationalization: you are a man, and there is a perfectly ordinary part of you that might be aroused by any amount of smooth, inviting skin. That's fine. You're fine.

"Just for the record," Nana starts, still looking like she wants to put a hand forward and hook one long fingernail into the buttons of your shirt. "You were, like, absolutely one of my favorite teachers."

"I guess it's nice to hear I'm not a complete lost cause," you say.

She snorts. "Oh, definitely not." And maybe because, after all of the years you have been teaching these soon-to-be lawyers, politicians, and doctors, you've come to not look down on them for saying the wrong things so much. Though you do envy their absolute ability to say the wrongest of things - just so - just on purpose.

"Are you," you nod at the thick stack of paperback novels that she is still holding, and with which, suddenly, she's bashful and flustered - this perfect shade of pink blossoming through her cheeks. "Actually here to buy those?"

The response: a demure little shrug. A drawl. "We all have our vices, professor."

"I'm not your teacher anymore," and remembering at the last moment, "Nana, you can drop the honorifics, please."

She holds a book out, cover turned toward you, and your mind stalls - even your fingers slip a little where they are resting on the spine of your own paperback purchase. The title is an affront to literacy, and the art on the cover seems to have been produced only with stock photos, gaudy.

"Have you heard of it?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well," she laughs and has the courtesy not to lay it at your expense, "it is so good." Then, without missing a beat, she twists her lips together, and finds the book flush against your chest. "I'm sure it beats reading textbooks and essays about the merits of Locke and Hobbes' life-after-death stuff all day, anyway. An hour if you can spare the time? I'd love to hear your thoughts on it"

And - ah, there it is. The push.

-

There is a zero percent chance that, after any of this, things will end neatly for either of you. 

You still wonder, slightly, how long Nana will keep up the charade before breaking character - because there's no way in hell she doesn't see what she's doing: wrapping you around her pretty fingers, her shiny, manicured nails, twisting every chance you get to reject her into an excuse to linger that little bit longer.

But it's well over an hour spent at the cafe-end of the bookstore, where she orders an iced-coffee and fills you in on the details you don't really need to hear, what she's been up to these last couple semesters - playing twenty questions; questions about other faculty members, the school, if the school newspaper is still anything like it used to be (for the record: no), then coming back to if you've been seeing anyone lately. That last one slips in so naturally you can't stop yourself from taking a slow drag off of the straw in your drink and answering: "not recently."

Because no honest deed goes unpunished, or however the saying goes.

"Hey," her hands splay out over the tabletop, pushing the cold, condensing water of her glass, smudging where a finger drags a line through the pool.

Maybe she knows. How you're already caught, and there's no going back, which is to say you're perfectly free to watch, hungrily, where her throat moves, and then where her lips part.

"I’ve got the perfect thing for that," and for one unhinged, hysterical moment you picture it, Nana: lying back against a counter or maybe in the cushions of a sofa, panties thrown carelessly over her shoulder; heaving out this soft, heady gasp. You: pushing inside of her for the very first time, both of your legs bracing, the heel of her foot pressed into the small of your back - but before you can convince yourself that she can't be talking about that, and just barely before the air gets stuck in the back of your throat and you realize that you might be so thoroughly, tragically fucked -

"Read this." A snap back into the here and now. She is looking at you very pointedly, not naked - but beautiful and perfect as she leans a bit into the table and crosses those lovely, lovely legs of hers, and tilts the copy of that awful, awful filth at you.

"Nana, respectfully, this is drivel," you say, immediately and plainly, listening to Nana laugh out loud as you glean more than you need to know from the info on the inside cover. "They've crossed like five major genre boundaries for a hook-up. Why should anyone bother?"

"Come on." She waves it off with a careless gesture of her hands. "There's plenty of things to like. Maybe you should give it a chance - broaden your horizons, teach. Besides - the sex scenes?" She rolls her shoulders with the same shrug you remember watching so carefully all those times she made her way, out of the hallways and back into that front-and-center-seat she was always occupying whenever the bell rang. "So filthy. I can show you one of my favorites."

"Doesn't really seem like appropriate reading material for -"

"You said it yourself," her voice has a bright, saccharine tone, just on the right side of strained. And between sips of that straw stuck in the purse of her pert, little mouth, she draws that next sentence - the ice cracking, thinning under your feet -

"Not my teacher anymore."

Nana smiles; this brash, cock-sure thing that reminds you, as you try to clear your throat of the nerves making a bed there: you are actually so, so fucking gone on her. So far gone it hurts, when, with a flourish and a bounce and a complete, reckless lack of discretion, she starts paging through the first chapters.

"Who says you can't study these kinds of stories on an academic level? Think about it: sex sells. Whoever ends up writing, it's a whole lot easier and a hell of a lot cheaper than trying to do it all yourself." She looks up, this mischievous twinkle in her eyes, as she angles her fingertips down on the book and opens it - page after page of very obviously poorly-written sex. You look, not even consciously.

But of course, her fingertips drift lower and lower along the pages until it's evident: she doesn't have an exact page in mind, but only a particular passage -

"Here. Let me show you, just one."

"Alright, fine," you start - trying for an effect of exasperation, something to mitigate this god awful throbbing, "whatever - you get one, one sample paragraph and I'll, you know, whatever."

"Yeah, you'll definitely see. Just trust me. Just the one."

She drums her long, gorgeous nails against the table, then eases back with a finger highlighting the text.

You're screening and scanning the words as she tells you about the heroine in the story: a pretty girl who comes down with a bad case of infatuation for her teacher - unrequited, of course. And then, into a passionate affair, of course; all the most raucous, explicit details laid out over the table for everyone else to hear. She says it is about as nonchalantly as though she had been reading you the daily weather forecast and not an elaborate metaphor for - and here, you stop her.

"He cums on her desk?"

"Fucking hot, right?" She nearly snorts and gestures you onward, her eyebrows jumping - go on, go on.

So, you skim along: a heavy rush of nausea (alongside another) pulsing down around your gut at the thought of actually doing such a thing, your ears going hot and your legs crossing on instinct. There's not so much a breath of hesitation as Nana, cool, unfazed, and utterly unaware of the uncomfortable churning of your stomach and the simultaneous thrumming in your cock, takes another deep swig of coffee.

She hums, thoughtful. "Honestly? Kinda wished it happened to me like that. You were a good, good teacher, professor. I wouldn't have minded your hands all over me." You hear her laugh, and the entire universe collapses like the end-days. You are struck down with feverish conviction: this girl is the worst. 

"Anytime you wanted," she adds, so carelessly.

There's a clunking sound, of glass on wood; a half a second where you almost lose control over yourself.

“Nayeon,” you let slip, the old name - a mistake of an invitation she grasps like a weapon. All coming to a glint in her eye that says she knows how you see it, how you can still picture her sitting with her hands folded over the skirt of her uniform, chest rising and falling beneath her cotton shirt. Studious, taking notes, acting every bit the naive sweetheart everyone believed her to be.

You shudder out some pretense of composure and settle back a few inches as she continues to coax a reaction out of you, prodding: "how many girls did you make confess back then, hm? Did it ever do them any good?"

"Dial it back, Nana."

Her expression is all feigned, gentle surprise. "But sir," she looks at you so innocently, "you said I should drop the honorific."

You want to argue that, you also want to tell her off for being such a brat - to demand that, instead, she cut the shit, sit back, and remember who you both are, but when, with a wink and a smirk, she's getting up out of her seat, Nana sets a gentle, reassuring hand on your shoulder as she pushes her chair back beneath the table. You get onto your feet, and when the two of you are stood close together like this - she's really and truly that much smaller than you remember. Waist so tiny you think you could almost, almost wrap two hands all the way around her; skirt rising all too easily when she tosses her weight between her heels.

"I hope you know what you’re doing," you tell her, sternly - the voice of a teacher whose patience is running thin.

But no matter where you look, the consequences are dire and immediate: an abject fascination, a kind of debilitating greed; the absolute fucking loss of ability to look her directly in her eyes. Not like Nana isn't staring right through you. There's no doubt some part of her relishes the feeling.

"Hey, what do I know?" This sweet, demure-like chuckle follows. "It's just porn, right?”

-

Eventually, Nana says to call it a night because the sun's long set into the horizon and the chill starts getting at the both of you.

She tells you while you're packing up your belongings to come by again sometime, her voice teasing as she explains that you should pick out a new novel to read for your benefit.

Which is possibly the ideal outcome, all things considered, if it wasn't for the way she found herself in your hands just a few paces into the parking lot - no one around to catch you, where you're gripping fast onto her wrist and pressing the lines of her body into door of your car, looming and ready to give a piece of your mind.

You know what you ought to say - things like don't bother, you've enjoyed her company, she's fun and sweet, and in a dozen different ways: be a good girl, and go home. You had your fun, didn't you? But she's practically begging, those huge, wide doe eyes that stare straight up into your soul.

"C'mon,” her voice lilts into a deeper, more purposeful register, “you wouldn't turn down a student on her way home, would you?

(This fucking girl.)

She speaks of propriety, like you aren't a man of your own principles - like you aren't reaching down to press a kiss to the swell of her lips like she undoubtedly deserves. To lick into her mouth and pull and kiss and bite until she's trembling, teeth caught in a delicate whimper. Or, that you aren't running your hands down her sides to find the backs of her knees and draw them upward, hooking your hips flush against hers.

She's all too breathless, watching you draw off her lips, fingers fast in your shirt, your hair - holding you close.

Then finally, a true, honest reflection of your heart. Nothing less than sheer and utter capitulation: "let me take you home."

Nana just nods before wrapping her arms around your neck and kissing you again.

-

It's definitely on you for expecting anything different, but Nana fucks like she talks.

Conceited. Brash. A little selfish.

The girl's sitting there on her kitchen counter with one leg hooked over your shoulder. She's stripped herself down to near nothing save for those fuck-off ridiculous panties: slick, shiny with a thick strip of satin between her lips, complete with white lace frills and all; the same ridiculous pattern as the thigh-high stockings clinging tight around the soft-gentle fat of her legs and the lace top of her garter. Her pussy - all tight and pink and soaked - has left this shimmering, shiny mess that's trailing down the insides of her thighs.

Your fingers are in the elastic of her panties, near bruising the curve in her waist where she's rocking, flushed and keening against your grip.

You tell her, "take these off."

"Off?" She repeats it back to you with the same little grin: playing dumb, the smart, charming ass she's been all night.

"I'd tell you what I really want to do to you," you start, pushing your fingers in a little harder, eliciting another pretty moan. "But I'm really, really sure you can fill in the blanks yourself.

"I hope you're not planning on being rough with me," she teases, running her hands all through your hair as she pulls herself against you - and of course, it's her audacity to insist, "no marks." She drops a chaste little kiss along the underside of your jaw. "At least, nothing that might show up on a camera."

Someone with a little less baggage might have done just that. Might have jerked her panties down a couple inches further - ripped the cloth, exposed her even more. You might have followed the waistline further along the perfect round of her ass, found those dips and dimples that, maybe, no one else has ever gotten to explore. You may have grasped at the ends of her hair and gotten your fingers in her pussy without ceremony - driven Nana to the very brink of her climax just before palming two greedy handfuls of that ass - shoving yourself right there between her lips and, lost to shame, put a fucking kid in her.

All the things she must be dying for you to do.

"Something the matter?" She pushes her mouth into yours for a kiss that has all the urgency of a lazy Sunday morning. Your tongue against hers, languid and gentle at first; wet-sloppy, kissing and sucking on her bottom lip. You can feel her smirking when she says, "don't tell me you've forgotten how."

It's a lot, the effort you're putting in not to crumble - to crack at her taunts, snap your restraint, the temptation. You just wanna grab her pretty tits in both hands, shake her, and say: "shut the fuck up." But no - even in your wildest fantasy, you want to hear her first - beg you to make a wreck of her. So you force the words between your lips, dry and cracking:

"Not a fucking chance."

A laugh. "Guess I'm in good hands, then. Have to admit," Nana slides her hands down to hook under your own, bringing them lower. She grinds your fingers in slow circles over that one, aching, perfect little bud - a shock that has her curling tight inward until she's whining, clutching at her waist. "Not the - not the situation I had in mind."

Nana shifts her weight a bit more on one hip, guiding you through rubbing along the entrance to her slit - sloppy with precum, silky and aching - and when you place just the lightest pressure over all that hot skin, she opens her mouth: 

"Ah."

Her eyes, her hair, her fucking mouth - you can’t look away - she’s so gorgeous it hurts.

Even the way she pants; the perfect furrow between her brows. And then, you dip a finger inside her, just to the first knuckle. It’s enough to make her whine, all shaky and high.

"Go on then, with how you’d pictured it," you press, already easing your digit in and out; slow, slick pumps that she is growing hotter, needier around. "I'm sure you've touched yourself to it more than a few times. The details and - stuff - must have been vivid."

"You haven't the slightest clue."

A brief kiss. You coax another shy sound from her, drawing a long sigh against her mouth -

"Try me, Nayeon."

"This is a lot closer to the truth than you’d think, professor." This time, no correction, she just smiles wide and tosses her head back, asking, sweetly, as if to absolve you of the responsibility. "Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it? You, me - us?" 

Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt and starts to pull.

On that detail, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.

"These... oh, how should I even call them." She hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"

"You know," you start. And by this point, her cunt's that much tighter. You've managed two fingers now, but no further, and she's making these desperate, punched-out gasps. Her clit's a swollen pink nub, jutting out from its soft hood. "I really had you pegged all wrong."

"Not - not at all. You can fuck me just fine, trust me - ah. Please, you can fuck me anyway you want."

And here, you grab a little higher on her hips, pinching her on the outside of a thigh, and begin working your fingers fast. You've never cared much for teasing, not really, but something about the way she squirms in your grip, tries to lean up and grasp onto your shoulders with shaking hands, it gets you smiling. It gets you grinning, even, especially the way she makes these pretty noises: a long, desperate little, "ah," at each press and thrust, her breath going high and uneven. 

"Listen, Nana -" She squeals out loud when you push your fingers just a little deeper, a little bit harder. "I'm not going to talk about what a slut you've been today or how badly I want to spread you wide open," you can already tell it's affecting her: the sudden change, the subtle hitch in her breathing, the tremor where her thighs press together. "Tell me about you, about your little ideas. Let me help."

"Wouldn't be fair." Her pussy's getting tighter, urgent with want. And still:

"C'mon now. Humor me a little. There was probably-" you say, sliding down that ridiculous pair of underwear along her ass, tugging them over the curves of her legs - so slow and easy, all while you're not bothering with easing off. Nana moans again; voice pitched. "Lots. Lots and lots of dirty things - and, I'm willing to bet my career that they made you a hot, mess - an awful, soaking fucking wreck. Who could've guessed? You, of all people, with just the right kind of teacher's-pet-appeal, hm?"

And you meant it to be a joke, just some ribbing. But the question has her immediately tensing, looking at you very intently, no trace of shame as she snaps back -

"Your mouth." She rocks forward. "Your fucking mouth."

You shouldn't keep touching her, you shouldn't keep staring, you shouldn't push her flat on her back and shove your face right into her cunt, you should pull away before this goes too far - it shouldn't be your fingers drawing out sopping-wet gasps out of her pussy, nor should you press your tongue to her cunt, your mouth to all that delicate flesh and, at your first taste, shiver.

Nana laughs: shaky, nervous. Then, your fingers sink back into her pussy alongside your tongue, your lips, the way even your hot breath against her aching pussy has her all stunned, breathless - and -

"Please."

- right before she breaks off into a beautiful sound that catches her hard in the chest.

(A sound like you’re all she could ever want in this life, maybe the next; it’s this wordless plea.)

"Hah, I had - ah, had so much - hah - dirt on you, used to masturbate thinking - ah," and there, she arches her spine, forcing a sigh out, "thinking about how you might punish me." She laughs - nearly choking. "How you might break down all your veneer of being a good, moral man and fuck me raw and rough and - ah - fuck. Oh god, fuck."

You twist your fingertips up just so, right against this perfect spot in her, and all the sudden the entire line of her body seizes - stiffens up, the muscles in her thighs twitch as you both moan through the moment, the spasms reverberating in your own ears, loud and unashamed, right against her wet, wet clit. Your fingers are fucking and fucking and fucking away in her cunt, harder and faster and sloppier, every word, every groan, every gasped breath only making it easier to forget. To give in. And with every heavy slap and squelch of your fingertips digging in as deep as her body allows - you're sending her that much closer.

You pull back long enough to bite out: "cum whenever you want, Nana.”

She can’t, she can’t, she can’t, is what she’s trying to say, bracing against how your tongue moves around her clit, and she knows, there’s no use fighting it.

A kiss against her swollen mound and she writhes. “There you go sweetheart, cum for me.”

Nana comes undone. Gradually at first, then vaulting over that edge all at once. She lifts and lowers her hips - pushing your fingers into the smooth, velvety muscles of her cunt; rocking up and up again. It's a torturously slow kind of grinding, and her feet find purchase on either side of you as her toes curl, one heel digging into your shoulder. An assurance; a promise; a lifeline; that she might tremble and shake through it, moaning.

“Fuck,” and, “god,” and, “you’re gonna make me-” slip past her lips alongside all the assured gasped-out cries for relief - the orgasm sweeping through her, tearing her apart.

Back pitching, shoulders narrowing, face twisting, cinching tighter and tighter -

Until she collapses.

Until it’s over.

As she lays there, chest heaving, arm draped carelessly across her forehead and half over a kitchen cutting board - her thighs splayed open, fucked and spent - she's so, so beautiful.

And it’s in that sort of fucked-up-noodly-state where she just slides right into your arms - those long, slender legs wrapping tight around your middle. "Here's the deal," you say, grabbing hold of her hips and steadying her, as best as either of you can.

"Hm." This lazy, sated look, the way her tongue's dragged out - slow and slick - across the top of her teeth and bottom of her lips. "Go ahead, sir. I'm listening."

The lip service - that coy little appeal to authority that maybe you’re actually plenty fond of - it makes you stop for the barest of moments. This girl, she's unreal. How hard could you ever be asked to resist her?

She lifts a brow. "Professor."

So you continue:

"I'm going to get out of these clothes, and we are going to see what happens after that - if you have a preference for the bed or the sofa, now's your chance to pipe up. Or else -"

"Or else-" She repeats, shifting her weight around again. You can feel how she adjusts her heels to hang higher up your ribs, rocking her weight against your abdomen, against your cock - and the instinctual twitch that runs through your spine is turgid and rough. Like a shot. If it had a smell, it'd probably remind you of gasoline.

And then, maybe just to rile you up even more: "the dining room table makes a good impression of a teacher's desk, no?"

You slide your hand along the backs of her thighs until you have a good, tight, high hold on them and pick her up, leaving the panties, the stockings, all of it down where they can gather dust or whatever - she giggles, and tightens her hold around you like she doesn't need to worry about falling.

"I'd rather fuck you into a mattress to be perfectly candid."

Nana throws back her head and laughs - this real, honest-to-goodness peal of laughter, a hint of playfulness where there was usually just a practiced ease. "Oh. So forward."

(In all likelihood, you're both going to hell, and on the off chance you meet down there, you figure you'll fuck her then, too.

You've read the myths, the Greek tragedies, the ones that have these gods descending from the heavens on human women, for pleasure and nothing but, you've read those stories and plenty more - the details don't matter: it's always a bad, bad end for everybody involved.)

She takes you upstairs. And the two of you fall through the doorway to her bedroom, stumbling all the way.

Her apartment is simple and clean in the way all young adults try to emulate, all white countertops, but with pictures hanging in little, neat rows on the walls and the space void of anything with some sort of character or history.

You know because you're fumbling toward a dresser or desk or bookshelf in an attempt to orient yourselves, bumping and tussling, half-blind, on your path forward and all of a sudden there's a goddamn framed photo in your hand - not of her family, thank god. Though just about every other person in the picture is familiar to you, you remember every single one - but all you're capable of focusing on is Nana, Nayeon: not quite the same. The same glint in her eyes, the way her smile has a timeless kind of quality, the faint dimples in her cheeks. 

And some wicked part of you is all too willing to ignore the whole timeline of events that has led up to you, Nana, like this: you want to pull her hair. You want to shove her around like she doesn't matter - is in any way disposable or replaceable; the most selfish parts of you wishing you could keep her pinned down by her slender neck; pressing a palm, bruising, into her collarbone as you start to work at your belt buckle and slacks with your other hand.

It's hard, getting a grip on yourself as Nana, sliding onto her bed and rolling across the sheets, pulls her stockings down the length of her legs - only stopping herself long enough to meet your eyes. Her throat bobbing.

“Of course,” she says, because your cock is hanging out by that point, straining and a little pent-up. "I fucking knew you would have a perfect cock."

"Flattery or sincerity?"

"Um, let's say both." She shifts around the pillow - that sweet little pout on her lips. Her gaze dropping from your mouth and running all along the length of your torso, lower and lower. Like her hands. And when her eyes flick up to meet yours, just when you're stroking at your cock, base and shaft, teasing yourself, well past the point of pretense, a devious smile spreads wide across her pretty, beautiful face. The implication: you aren't leaving here until you're cumming inside her.

And with a glimmer in her eyes, the sheer audacity, her fingertips ghost the underside of your cock as she draws up toward the head, "you're going to ruin me with this thing. You know that right?"

"A bit dramatic."

Nana moves to rest with the tops of her knees at the edge, her chin resting against the insides of her wrists, elbows propped up - poised, playful, everything she should be as the both of you regard each other a moment longer. "Can you blame me? It's not just that it's huge, I mean - I've barely even gotten a hold of it, and yet... god," she snorts. Her eyelids are heavy, mouth curved, almost a snarl as she drags her bottom lip through the grip of her teeth and sinks down onto the mattress.

"Say something filthy again," and this is a test, this is Nana testing you to see what exactly you'll get away with.

(Hint: it's a whole lot.)

She sighs. The image of indigence, innocence, everything pure and good you couldn't hope for. "Should I suck it or not? Or maybe, I don't know. Would you prefer me to beg for it first, ask if you'll put it in? Like, I think if you ordered me to put it in my mouth, right now, I wouldn't be able to say no."

"Really," the most sarcastic answer.

"Really," she continues. "For instance. If you came over here right now and guided me up and onto your dick and told me, specifically, that you were going to face-fuck me? I couldn't say no. No sir."

You could have her any damn way. You could have her, and you both know it.

"So tempting," you tease, mostly in earnest, "maybe another time, when my self-control isn't quite so lacking."

Nana hums a low, flippant sort of noise - like: whenever you're ready - and just how much trouble it gets you in, the mere suggestion, is what she is banking on.

"Hey," is her invitation, "I won't beg yet. You still want me to put my mouth all over it," and to emphasize, she slips her fingers between the plump pillows of her lips, smiling at how that makes you reach over the nightstand, accidentally pulling open a drawer, possibly reaching for the first aid kit, "or would you rather watch me stuff all these fingers in my wet, little hole."

A sharp inhale: it really would be fun, probably, but you can't take it.

"Nana," this voice, gravelly-ragged and harsh, "if you're planning to make me snap, you are, without question, on the right track."

"Then before that happens," she says, pulling you down into the bedsheets beside her. Your body flush against hers, the beat of her heart loud against your own; this gorgeous, pristine girl, so nakedly giving - this is an honor and a curse all rolled up together, no doubt.

And after a hot, wet kiss: "fuck me like I always thought you would."

(She was made to be like this; it's the only explanation.

Made for wanting. Made for fucking. Made to be loved and made to have her cunt fucked full - ruined by your fingers, your tongue, your cock. This absolutely perfect body, and all the delicious parts of her; this thing of desire, bashful and coy and that deserves all the world and, having none of the grace or courtesy to actually beg, orders, like she always knew she could:

"Like, right fucking now."

Or else.)

Then you're there - her hot mouth, her cunt, your fingers digging in bruising-tight all along the curve of her thighs where they meet her ass, hips, thighs, waist. She's pumping her soft palm and delicate fingers, slick with her spit and yours around the length of you and this isn't going to last long; not that there's any doubt you're going to leave her sore. But still, you drag the head of your cock across the swollen lips of her pussy, down through the plump swell of her clit until it rests where the ridge just begins and every slide, every pressure along every inch of your cock, the thought of being enveloped entirely in all that silky warmth is nearly the end of you.

A whimper, "professor."

You wrap your hands tighter around the smooth, firm muscles in her thighs; dragging your fingers back and forth across the supple skin there - just firm enough to elicit a reaction from the tension in her legs, until you have her flipped over on her stomach. Because if you're going to fuck her properly, it's going to be with her face buried deep into a pillowcase and you perched above her, holding her down against the sheets.

You watch her get her elbows underneath her, laying almost flat. Watch her trace the shape of her own jaw, her nose, her neck - the smooth expanse of her chest - as you straddle her thighs. With her ass pointed right up at you and the heel of her ankle gently grinding into the underside of your leg, you groan, placing both hands just above her ass. And once you're gripping the whole shape of her, you push your cock into her, just an inch, listening to the shift in her breathing.

She shudders, "don't tease - oh, please, sir-"

"Is this what you expected, Nana?" You grab onto her hair. Then again, when she tries to get her hands on herself. Her shoulders are high, tight. You just don't give her a chance; pushing yourself another inch, a couple. The pace, so gradual she starts making these soft, little breathless sounds as you stretch her tight pussy open. A few moments when she stops trying to bury her noises, her gasps - stops trying to angle her hips or squeeze or resist the thick shape of your cock where it is so, so hot and full inside of her - and there you stop. "What is it you had in mind, hm?"

"Ngh - oh."

Her cunt's clamping tight around just the first few inches of you. The tightness, the wet heat is staggering; how it pulls and begs with the words she seems reluctant to spill out.

So - you lift a hand, bringing it back down again onto the pale, rounded flesh of her ass with a smack, a gasp, and this wet sound from the sopping heat of her pussy, all aching and sobbing, "don't, fuck, stick it - fuck, put it - just. Just fucking get on top of me and pin me down - make it hard for me to breathe - do it, just. Like I, fuck, like I always wanted, sir, please-"

And you sink all the way in.

"Fuck." She bites into those consonants, a whole-body motion that pulls at the tension in her spine, the muscles in her legs. But her hips angle right up, and she presses her ass into the hollow of your abdomen and says, "thank you. Thank you. God."

"Don't get lazy on me," you say, grinding the tip of your cock in little circles; pulling it out and angling it down until it's prodding at all the right places to make her arch and shiver.

"Please," she says again, louder this time, almost a moan. "That. Fuck. Yes. It's."

"Yes, yes, I know. Nana, you-"

"Just use me. Whatever you like," she pants; then, once you've pulled yourself out to the tip, slowly filling her again, "use me like a fucktoy, alright. Because - fuck," Nana shivers, pushing her hips into yours. Her shoulders lower, as if by degrees, "please. Use me. Make it rough. Please, professor - use me however you want, I don't care - anything's fine with me - use me, as long and as much as you need, I. Please."

The real difference here, beyond anything else, is that this is no longer the game it was; the very instant she was sprawled across the mattress with a line of drool dripping into the sheets, all her bright, polished glory has vanished, leaving this bare edge of her exposed - the girl who lives solely to be fucked and used by your cock, her cunt leaking, begging for more. Reduced to the basics and nothing else.

"Your fucking cunt, Nana, the goddamn clench - you feel - it's-" (So fucking good, is what you can’t quite say, because she’s tight and wet and her tiny pussy is quivering like mad every time you bathe your cock in its scorching heat. Over and over.) It’s hard to think; you’re truly - truly - fucking her, but you can’t ignore the tautness in her spine either, bent below you. There are probably tears beading down her cheeks, but there's no helping the raw instinct screaming through the core of her being, pleading with you to pull yourself free, before sinking hilt-deep into her again, again, again - to a chorus of sloppy, loud, nasty, fucking whimpers and moans.

Like music. 

It's easy after all, how her pussy gives way to you. How she molds around you - sleeves onto you like a glove - like there was only one cunt in the world you should ever be fucking up and fucking apart. 

"It's incredible. Fuck. Just that perfect."

Nana, as best as she can, trying to stay steady, braced against her hands and knees, is raising her hips.

But it's clear with the way she's slipping all over, slicking the sweat off her palms and rocking her ass back into your thrusts, a cry falling out of her, unbidden, when she speaks and not.

"Please," she pants, through tears probably, this breathy-shivering. A renewed enthusiasm for your grip on her - where, in another place, you'd worry about leaving marks behind - for the feeling of your weight slamming down into her, driving the air from her lungs.

The sheets are a crumpled mess, pillows knocked from the mattress, where the two of you are shaking it apart.

You're pulling her apart, slowly, thrust by thrust into her sopping cunt, and in a promise of how you'll put her back together, you get your mouth on her shoulders, her neck, kisses in her hair, behind her ear - Nana just whimpers, curling her toes and ankles along the backs of your knees, her face against the pillow and gasping, "thank you - thank - thank-"

And when your palm smacks against the generous swell of her ass, again, she keens so perfectly for you.

It's a breathtaking sight, so good, so perfect: her flawless ass pitched high, round and flushed pink. The flutter of her eyelashes and the tears and drool. The outlines of her pale white cheeks sent into ripple after ripple, and then the way you can slide one hand forward between her shoulder blades and slip it into her hair, nails raking her scalp, grabbing a handful of hair in your fist and tilting her face - to the side, enough for her cheek against the pillow and the way her hips try to press against yours; try to chase the pleasure; this brash, gorgeous, slim-waisted, well-curved, exquisite young woman - like everything.

"Please," is all she says as you fit your chest up tight to her back and mouth at her neck - lick all along the sweat. "Please."

You can't take it anymore, can't keep watching this masterpiece, can't stand the molten heat wrapped around your cock every time the drag in and out of her pussy pulls sets every nerve on fire. Right in her ear: "I'm cumming, Nana, I'm cumming inside this tight, little pussy."

A short gasp, "yeah."

"Yeah. Inside, Nana. Cum inside, you -" You twist your fingers against her scalp and find purchase, an excuse - a means to yank her head around and lean into her, teeth against skin, that familiar coiling in your gut and the burning sensation that flows right alongside every slap and smack of her hips on your skin.

"Fuck me." You watch her bite down, swallow a sound, try to say: "fuck your load so deep inside me it’ll be all I think about for weeks, let me feel it, all that hot, all that sticky, fucking cum"

And you drag your hips, these final, punishing drags through her drenched cunt. Her fingers are white knuckled and fisting the sheets, until the very second you've pressed every ounce of your own body's worth into her own, when you're collapsing her spine and pushing her face into the bedspread, this wave rushes through your ears like the buzz and hum of insects and waves and things out of sync - the high, the peak -

And then:

Sobering, subjugating silence.

In fact, you're shuddering; You're cumming, spilling pools of thick cum deep inside of her. It's all in that warm, filthy sensation, a heady, hazy, desperate thrill when her own cunt seizes in its climax around you, trembling, throbbing, quivering, clenching; drawing everything out and taking your cock deeper - even while the whole of her is thrashing and bucking, all of this messy with her pleasure and her voice caught up, writhing and breathless.

"God-" is the last thing out of her mouth before you can kiss it quiet, tug on her lower lip and open her up like a present - messy and breathy, crying out, you're making this mess inside, this beautiful fucking mess - as the whisper you feel against your lips:

"Inside me, like that."

As you groan, deep and hot, "filthy fucking cumslut-"

Right on the verge, riding out every twitch of your cock and each flex of your hands at the skin around her ass, her waist, back and shoulder blades; even after you've caught your breath, you keep pumping more and more inside of her, you don't stop, won't, and even when you manage it, pulling out the head of your cock - you can feel every slick detail - just the slit and rim, resting the throbbing head of your cock at her swollen little mound, feeling the length of her fucked-out pussy spasm at the emptiness and trying to grasp around nothing - empty, tight and aching, sopping.

There's her hips, just this, right there; the line, the silhouette. Her thin waist and the curvy swell of her ass, jutting out straight - the cream-colored flesh dusted pink. The lithe, soft line of her stomach and the insides of her thighs a little farther along, sweaty and inviting.

She's so pliant in your grip, even though she's trying her best to curl herself backward - to angle your spent cock back into the ready, welcoming warmth of her slick, wet pussy - and once the afterglow has begun to wear away, that same greed and yearning takes its rightful place. A glimmer in her eyes. The unmistakable need and drive.

"One more," she says, wiggling her hips back into your stomach. "For me."

(The truth: you can't refuse her, not as she bites her lip and twists, all that soft hair splayed across her face, stuck to her tear-damp skin.

One more, because you both still want it. One more, because in the dim glow and evening air of her bedroom, everything that happens now matters just as much as anything that happened before.

One more, because you need her again.)

-

When she wakes in the dark, you figure her bed will be empty.

Nana will realize that you're gone. Of course you’ll be - it was never going to go differently; the sex had to end at some point. After all, if you stayed, eventually she'd start saying something you'd find a fault in or your skin would be so sensitive she couldn't stand not running a finger up your spine and maybe kissing your hip.

The reasons to go always outnumbered the reasons to stay.

The world would catch up and someone would find out and that's the sort of gossip that might leave both of your careers in shambles. Or else, you'd do something you couldn't come back from, the moment the heat of the sex left your body and her cunt, god, her perfect little cunt was spent - slackening - and the moments-after-haze, her legs locked up and her arms a bit sore, would clear up. Then you'd look at her, or else the shame would win out - the guilt and you'd call it quits. She won’t blame you. She can't.

-

But then again,

Her heart won't fall completely to pieces, because:

You've stayed. And it isn't an easy position, even if she is easy.

Here she is, though: sleeping on her side with her wrists crossed in front of her face - peaceful and quiet, probably tired enough to sleep without dreams. The dark has long since settled across her bedroom, save the pinpricks of stars in the sky out her window and a sliver of moonlight. You can see her, or you could reach out and run your hands all along her calves and thighs, but you don't.

Nana's shoulders slump forward in the faintest of sighs, and there it is - the slow, gentle swell and fall of her chest.

-

Here's how you got here:

In this scandal-in-waiting of a relationship. Here's the stupidest possible path, where a bright-eyed student with a crush fucks her older professor just once, and somehow you both find yourselves coming back for more, like maybe your very, very bodies belong together - a maddening compulsion.

Even once you've managed to work through the idea of your cum all inside of her, a seedy, twisted corner of your mind murmurs how it makes the most sense. To stick your cock inside of her again.

Where she can show you the way it can look; the mess and the texture of the slick, white spill - dribbling out of her pussy in the afterglow, onto her palm, and down the crevice in her ass and lower.

It's the phone calls probably - and not just the phone sex - late-night talking, conversation and every once in awhile, the kind of hot, hard fucking that gets you in trouble, but also a reason to be with each other again. Not just the quick fucks but the nice ones - the days, the late nights and mornings and what have you: all the casual intimacy of it. All the sweet nothings exchanged.

The after-sex cuddling, with her straddling your lap;

The sensation of her thighs sliding into place around the tops of your legs, her arms tucked around your neck;

The kisses you don't take and kisses you'd be okay with, all the promises made to love you as many times as necessary, however necessary, wherever.

That's all here too.

Again:

She is young. But, who the fuck are you to say? Who the hell can tell you she doesn't deserve the least rotten, least painful, most promising love she can find in this particularly fucked-up world?

Who else is going to keep the both of you safe and hidden?

And who else, despite everything, seems to like having a secret that they're sure only you know; every glance or accidental touch with her eyes brimming, alive, and the whole of her bent like a bow-string - all held back and wound-up tight.

To the point her spine will shiver and shake; you know how it can be.

-

"Are you actually going to buy those?" Nana asks one day, dangling on her toes, chin rested comfortably in the sweep of your shoulder.

When she crowds the swell of her hip and her breasts and her entire body into your back and snakes her arms around your shoulders, you think there's nothing else in the world you need.

"You called them drivel," she adds, almost pouting - which is a look you're slowly trying to inoculate yourself against because the moment it comes up, you have a knee-jerk reaction to drop anything and everything and carry her off someplace else. To have a place where she could, could, could -

"Hah," you roll your eyes, not taking the bait. There's a shelf-full of campy, smutty romance novels in the dollar bin. "It is. The story was less than complicated, but I couldn't figure out what the hell two or three characters' plotlines had to do with one another, and sometimes you just want a little guilty pleasure, you know?"

"Ooh. So," Nana smiles, the devious sort. "I guess there is some honesty in you after all."

"Come on, this one at least has an original story," and it is a shameless attempt, "plus-"

"I know, I know. Fine. And if it is so terribly bad, well, I suppose I can use your chest as a pillow to take a nap," she says, before throwing this particular glance over her shoulder.

The cashier doesn't need to ask if the two of you want your copies of 'Wild West of the Heart' or whatever-the-fuck this one is titled, scanned separately.

All of that, those paperback-cover love stories and TV drama plots, these are the sorts of things you do just for Nana; as the two of you wait in long lines, get carried along, get bumped and pushed, like every other ordinary-person thing you've done for her ever since.

("Honestly, this isn't my kind of thing either," you tell her in the aisle of a grocery store once. The fluorescent lighting only accentuates the blush high on her cheeks. "don't make me fuss over something like this."

"Have a little sympathy," she insists, nudging the handle of the shopping cart against the inside of your shins. "A girl like me isn't good for much else.")

It's not romance, really, that's such a fucked up way to go about describing any of it, but then there's Nana, bouncing on her heels and prattling on, this girl in the spring of her life who is full to the brim and bursting with the most chaotic and eclectic sorts of thoughts and passions -

So, what.

"Really," she adds - another side, another angle on an issue the two of you had an hour ago while cooking breakfast. "Just, think about it. Would you honestly put all this effort into somebody who doesn't make you laugh at least as much as they irritate you? Because like, you would never tolerate some self-obsessed jerk long enough to eat their burnt, terrible pancakes every day of the week."

"Fine. Maybe." You sit across the table. "You're right."

Nana blinks and this look of wonder crosses her face as she grins. A moment of triumph for her and that was more than the honest truth. It's still strange, admitting defeat in any argument here or there, or that the two of you make an actual decent couple - together. The kinds of things that come naturally to other people.

"Any more caveats to all of this, professor?"

"You’re gonna end up bent over that counter again if you keep pushing it, kid."

The both of you break out laughing and then you finish your coffee, or she stabs the last few pieces of cantaloupe on her plate, or you kiss her neck, and just -

Everything.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

In Defense of Marinette

I like Marinette. While there are many valid criticisms of her writing, the same can be said for literally every other character and she's actually doing pretty well given that she's the main character. After all, in a show where consistent characterization is an ongoing issue, the one with the most screen time will probably be the one who's the biggest victim of the issue.

This is heavily exacerbated by the rule that supposedly governs Miraculous. Namely that, in each story, Marinette must make a mistake. Or, at least, so says the head writer:

I really do not care what this guy says on Twitter or anywhere else. I only care about what's in the show because, if you have to go outside the text to understand the text, then you have no idea how to tell a good story.

However, unlike many of the tweets that I've seen, this one isn't some BS bit of lore. It's a writing rule and it has substantial backing in the text. It's extremely rare to have an episode where Marinette comes out smelling like roses and that's a problem because Miraculous has over 100 episodes. In other words, to follow this rule, the writers have to come up with over 100 ways for Marinette to be wrong so of course she's going to come across poorly. Why would you do this to your main character?

It's extremely common for kids shows to have a "lesson of the day" element to them. Someone always needs to learn something, but I've never seen a show misunderstand the assignment so badly. Learning a lesson is not the same as doing something wrong.

It's been a while since I watched the 2010 version of My Little Pony, but it really leaned into that whole "lesson of the day" thing and it actually knew what it was doing, so I'm going to talk about it briefly to discuss things that Miraculous should have done.

The first thing to note is that MLP had an unambiguous main character - Twilight Sparkle - but Twilight was not the one who learned all of the lessons. She had a pet dragon and a crew of five friends who would, occasionally, be the ones to learn the lesson because there were lots of lessons that simply didn't fit Twilight's character. Instead of warping Twilight to make the idea work (cough cough Ikari Gozen cough), the writers just let someone else have the spotlight for a bit.

This is an excellent way to build out your cast and Miraculous had plenty of opportunities to do it. For example, Lila should not have been Marinette's issue. The fact that Lila hates Marinette could have certainly stuck around, but the one who takes her down and learns to investigate her sources? That should have been Alya. A liar is the perfect enemy for an investigative journalist, but a poor enemy for someone who shines as a battlefield commander and overthinks when she's given too much time.

Another way that MLP would teach lessons was to have someone other than Twilight or the main crew cause the issue that they then had to deal with. This leads to one of the best moments in children's television:

And, frankly? Marinette deserves a moment like this. That poor girl has been through hell and is never allowed to make the right call when it really matters. The show will even completely rewrite its lore to make her fail (see: Strike Back). That is such an awful thing to do to your lead! Shows about female empowerment should include women feeling powerful and, no, Lila and Chloe don't count!

Also, the show is literally about Gabriel taking advantage of people who are upset. You don't need to have Marinette make a mistake to shoehorn in a life lesson. Akumas are life lesson fodder and season 1 actually seemed to get this. I'm not sure why they switched gears to "Marinette is the star and, therefore, must always be wrong."

The final way that MLP taught lessons was to have Twilight do something wrong because having your main character do something wrong is a totally valid way to teach lessons. It just shouldn't be your only way because you know who is always wrong in children's media?

Villains.

They wrote Marinette like a villain.

And a large part of the fandom hates her for it because of course they do.

You're not supposed to like villains.

[vanderdyks]

I literally dont know how to continue explaining to people that part of the reason Goku decided to stay dead was because Gohan hated fighting.

He didnt know this until cell. He literally had no idea. Gohan NEVER gave any indication whatsoever. Couple that with the fact Bulma pointed out most of people threatening the Earth during that point in time were all people wanting Goku. The saiyans. Frieza. The androids. Doctor Gero. Cell.

All because of Goku. Its not his fault but his very existence consistently put the Earth in danger. He truly believed Earth would be safer without him and therefore, gohan wouldnt be consistently placed into battle.

Because Goku didnt know gohan hated fighting. But once he knew came the very interwoven nature of these threats he brought making his own son fight because gohan felt he HAD to. Not because he wanted to. For goku, protecting the earth always aligned with his own love for fighting. But gohan fought out of necessity, out of the very idea that they couldnt afford to do it without him. He has this power he didnt ask for so he must use it right? Because it would be selfish if he didnt.

But goku... goku thought gohan was like him. Gohan WANTED to return to help fight vegeta. He WANTED to go to namek. He WANTED to stay and fight after piccolo almost died to frieza. Goku didnt see gohan train that first year. Didnt witness what it took to make gohan a fighter. All he saw was his son who now was strong and wanted to join the fight like his dad. And he knows gohan is more powerful than them, knows he can stop cell, FELT IT. Gohan has to defeat cell because no one else can. So he thinks if gohan gets angry enough fighting cell, itll be the answer. Because thats how its always been for goku. And in thirty seconds piccolo makes him realize he's wrong. He doesnt argue back, he listens and concedes and realizes that piccolo is right. And suddenly goku wants to abandon his plan and stop the fight. He made a mistake. He intends to get gohan out. And in the end, he still ended up being right, but it doesnt change what goku now knows. Gohan isnt like him and he doesnt enjoy fighting.

Goku would have NEVER made gohan fight if he thought he didnt want to. You know this whenever adult gohan gets involved in a fight and goku apologizes that he had to. Or when someone suggests gohan for a battle and goku is like nah he's "out of practice," even when they have time FOR PRACTICE. He never wants to force gohan into a situation like cell again. Because cell was a mistake and goku has learned from it. So he never asks Gohan to fight anymore. If Gohan wants in then of course he's in. But he wants his son to be able to choose that. He wants gohan to be HAPPY and if thats not fighting then thats perfectly alright with goku.

So it wasnt just about keeping the earth safe. Or his friends. It was knowing that in the safety of gokus absence, gohan wouldnt have to fight either. There would be less threats, less chances of his son being forced into battle. And sure he also trusted that gohan and the others could keep the earth safe if they had to, but he was banking on the threat level significantly decreasing instead.

And decrease it did. They had seven whole years of peace. Not a single threat. Meanwhile from the moment Raditz shows up to gokus death to cell, it all takes place within the span of FIVE YEARS. The longest they went without a threat was the three year gap spent training for the androids. And they spent every waking moment knowing they were coming.

And then if you look at trunks future... majority of the human population being wiped out by the androids. Majority of gokus friends. His son. All dead. Because of him. Because he defeated the red ribbon army when he was a child. And that very easily could have been their future as well. So Goku does his job in preventing that. He saves all of them. And if hes the only one who ends up dead, well... it doesnt matter. Because they aren't. And he intends to keep it that way. So he stays in otherworld, to keep them safe and to give his son a future that he can choose. If Gohan has to fight, then he can. But at least his father wouldnt be the one bringing the threats to his door.

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 9 - ( c.s )

part eight

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- angst, swearing, i think that’s it

a/n: i’m back my little goblins let’s get it!!!! part ten of this series will be the final part, and then i plan on writing an ‘epilogue’ type chapter to wrap it all up. i’m hoping to have them up as quickly as possible, but ive been absolutely slammed so im sorry if it takes me a minute. i love u always and i’ve missed being on here so i hope you enjoy <3

(if you asked to be tagged in the last part and weren’t tagged it’s bcs it wouldn’t let me!! i’m so sorry i tried my hardest)

to be let down, you have to expect something from someone. it’s a mistake you’ve made far too frequently in your years on earth, especially in college, but this time around the grief is debilitating.

you spend the rest of your weekend locked inside your room, attempting to sleep away the heartbreak. somehow dreaming almost makes it worse; for a second you’re able to forget about being completely humiliated, until you wake up in reality once more.

it doesn’t help that chris has been absolutely blowing up your phone since the moment you left. every call and text goes unanswered. it’s impossible to read them, so most of the time you don’t.

hell, you can’t even open your curtains because you’re too scared that he’ll be looking back at you when you do. so you block out the sunlight, ensuring that your room matches your dreary feelings.

you figure he’ll give up on trying to talk to you eventually. you’re not different. he’s not different. and once chris regains that pride of his, he’ll go right back to fucking some other girl he won’t care about half as much.

thoughts like those make you cry even harder, as much as you hate it. but you know the disinterest will wash over him sooner or later, and you resent that inevitable day.

cassidy and ramona check on you pretty much every other hour. it makes you feel even worse that they’re so concerned, but neither of them have ever seen you like this. at least not since freshman year, when you dated an upperclassman for a couple months just for him to dump you over text.

even that heartache was relatively short-lived. but this pain follows you into the week, trailing behind you like a shadow you can’t get rid of. it sits beside you in class, curls up next to you in bed, weighs your shoulders down whenever you walk.

it feels like you’re struggling to stay afloat, to even act like a real human anymore. chris consumes your brain, and so do the ‘what if’s’ of your situation. it makes the week drag on, even though you try to spend most of it asleep.

to make matters worse, his multiple notifications continue with a routine consistency, almost like clockwork. you figured he’d already be over it, but he clearly doesn’t want to make himself easy to forget.

you have to admit that you’re glad his persistence lasted at least this long, even if it’s for selfish reasons. you’re disgusted that the attention satisfies you, but it’s not an unwelcome change considering all you’ve been feeling lately is queasy.

still, you don’t read them, or pick up when he calls. you can’t hear his voice, because you know it’ll absolutely break you.

and then finally, on friday, you see him in the flesh. you’re walking home from your bus stop after the only lecture you managed to get to that day, and there he is, getting out of his car.

your throat seizes up; there’s no way to avoid this. it’s easy to ice someone out over text, but it’s a hell of a lot harder when he’s your neighbor.

before you can snap your head away he’s turning to look in your direction, eyes equally as wide as yours once the recognition washes over him. he looks like shit, and yet he’s still so goddamn beautiful it makes you physically sick.

for a brief moment, everything stops. you just stare at each other.

chris takes in you in, the way you look noticeably drained. he feels that familiar nauseous pang in his stomach flare up, knowing that he stole the spark from your eyes.

the worst part is that you’ll never look at him with that fire again. there’s nothing he can do to bring it back now, no way to reverse the past.

then—before he can decide what to do in the present—you break the spell, cutting through your other neighbor’s lawn to get to your front porch. everything in him wants to run after you, so much so that he has to physically restrain himself.

you hear him calling after you, and something about him shouting your name stirs the tears awake once more. but you make it through the door before they fall, because you can’t show any more vulnerability than you already have.

getting inside doesn’t mean that you make it up the stairs, though. the physical and emotional exhaustion catches up to you, and you collapse around halfway through your blurry climb to your room.

your elbows dig into your kneecaps, hands holding your head while you sob. it seems impossible to catch your breath, or calm down in the slightest, and your cries only grow louder.

normally you’d be careful about the noise, but there’s no one to hide from right now. nobody is home. it’s just you and your thoughts, which, as always, are full of him.

you may be able to push him out of your life, but you have a feeling he’ll be lingering in the corners of your mind forever.

the post-game locker room mood is completely miserable tonight. after that last minute loss and the thirty minute bitch-session they just endured from their coach, it honestly should be.

chris barely even has his skates off before his teammates are all over him, which he expected but still dreaded.

his head’s not in it, and everybody knows.

“what the fuck is wrong with you, man? it’s like you’re not even awake out there.” one of the team’s leading defensemen, luke, yanks him up by his jersey roughly.

for a second he pauses, setting his jaw and puffing his chest out slightly. the accusation, though it’s not completely untrue, pisses him off.

so much so that chris retaliates by shoving him back to his rightful place a foot away. “get the hell off of me, man.”

luke looks like he’s ready to jump into action again, but connor steps in between before anything else can happen. he’s also very visibly angry, a side that doesn’t come out often.

and just because he stopped a physical fight from breaking out doesn’t mean he’s going to stay silent. “he’s right. you’re playing like shit, and we‘re way too far into the season to be blowing it now, especially with selection show right around the corner.”

chris can feel his blood is boiling at this point, knowing that even his roommate is going to support this kind of disrespect towards his own captain. the rest of the team is watching silently, but he can’t find it anywhere in himself to care.

the words have already bubbled up, and he won’t hold them back anymore.

“oh come on, it’s not like anyone else was stepping up! dylan turned the puck over every other play, ben was offside during that odd man rush, and don’t even get me started on you and the high sticking penalty that just lost us that fucking game.” he shoves his pointer finger against connor’s chest for emphasis, trying to make sure his criticism stings as much as possible.

but his friend is quick to swat his hand away, shaking his head once sharply.

“no, you don’t get to turn it on everyone else. you lost it for us during that sorry excuse of a penalty kill. you let that little UMass shit go right by you, which is why he had a wide open shot to score the game winner. you’ve been making dumb mistakes like that for two weeks now, and we all know why.”

that implication is enough to send chris over the edge, because nobody has the right to mention what happened between you and him. knowing about the situation doesn’t mean they should get to speak on it.

he can feel his fingernails digging into his palms, both hands balled into tight fists at his side. the anger coursing through his body makes him shake ever so slightly, almost like he’s humming.

“keep going and i’ll bust your fucking face in.” chris says, voice eerily calm despite the fact that his body is screaming.

but connor doesn’t back down; he stands tall with an unwavering gaze that’s more serious than ever before. “you gotta grow a pair and start being our captain again. you fucked up, and losing someone you’re actually into because of that sucks. most of us have been there. but trying to throw everyone under the bus is bullshit when you’re the one that needs to get it together.”

nothing about his words are intentionally meant to hurt, and chris knows that, but for some reason they do. probably because he doesn’t want to hear the truth, or start coming to terms with the fact that he actually did lose you.

he really doesn’t ever want to accept it.

but his ego won’t let him say that. instead, chris shifts his gaze to observe the rest of the room, at all of his teammates, before focusing on connor once again.

“if you don’t think that i’m your captain anymore then find a new one.” he spits.

the room somehow gets even more quiet; everyone is stunned by the out-of-character reaction. for the most part, chris really is a good leader. they all voted for him to represent the team when it came time, and the group dynamic has been great since then.

but he doesn’t feel like that guy now. he’s not sure who he is anymore. so he throws the rest of his equipment into his bag and yanks it over his shoulder.

“really, chris?” it’s ben this time, who’s clearly dumbfounded by the theatrics.

he doesn’t respond, and he tries not to hesitate too much as he makes his way out of the locker room. everyone lets him pass, which makes it even harder to leave.

it feels so wrong, but his feet keep pushing him forward regardless.

when chris finally makes it home twenty minutes later, the frustration has only festered. he doesn’t like anything he’s doing, and yet it’s spiraling out of his control. by the time he gets to his room, tears of aggravation have made their way down his face.

he wipes them away harshly as he stares out his window at your room, which is still closed off by your curtains. it’s like his heart seizes up just from being this close to you, knowing that you’re in there yet he can’t reach you.

and maybe that’s the problem. chris loves hockey, but at the end of the day he clearly loves you more. and with things the way that they are, his heart is fully wrapped up in you, not the game.

it’s terrifying, and it’s painful. he never thought that there’d be anyone to test his bachelor lifestyle until you came around, and he can’t just go back to normal because he doesn’t know how.

he’s been permanently changed, and it feels like a huge part of his new life is suddenly missing.

you saw the deepest parts of him, parts that he didn’t even know existed, and he saw the same side of you. you challenged him in ways he’d never experienced, and he loved that he always felt like he was evolving when you were together.

now he just feels stagnant, unsure of himself.

the only thing he’s sure of is that he needs you, whether that makes him inconsiderate or not. he can’t keep sleepwalking through life, but he’s not sure what else there is to do.

simply put, he misses you like hell. so he lays back in bed and closes his eyes, trying to remember what it felt like to have you right beside him.

@fawnchives @l9vesick @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18 @realqueenofpepsi @snowysosturn @secretfangirly @scarlettbitches @satvisfavetoodles

[sagittariusmarz]

What are you supposed to learn from this failure/mistake? (PAC) *follower request

Pile 1

I see that you’re supposed to learn when to leave and let go of things before it escalates and gets too far, you’re supposed to learn when to walk away and start something new. I see that you need to learn how to trust your gut and follow your instincts, you need to learn when someone’s manipulating you and abusing their power or your niceness. Go where you’re most happiest at and don’t be afraid of change or new beginnings, following your passions will be most beneficial to you. You need to learn to put yourself first and stop trying to put so much energy/effort into something or someone that isn’t giving you the same energy. Signs- Pisces, Aries, scorpio. Virgo in the 2nd house, Taurus in the 6th house. Initials-N, I, A

Pile 2

I see that you’re supposed to learn perseverance and consistency, you’re supposed to learn that no matter if you fail or if you’re discouraged you should still keep going. I see that you need to learn how to control your spending and generosity, don’t keep giving when you know you don’t have that much to give or you know that you don’t really have anyone to help you in your times of need. Don’t be gullible and don’t be scared to set strong boundaries even with the people closest to you, don’t let your mistake or failure defeat you and keeping pushing forward. Practice more or plan things out more before you try to do something, don’t rush the process and be more patient and confident. Protect yourself more from negative energy and keep more things to yourself because there’s people who subconsciously want you to fail, don’t keep going back to your past especially if you know it’s toxic or negative. Signs- Virgo/Aquarius. Gemini in 8th house, Scorpio in 4th house. Initials- X, E, L, U, Z, H

Pile 3

I see that you were supposed to learn how to stand your ground and don’t let people treat you how they want, you were supposed to learn how to be more defensive and protective of yourself. You were supposed to learn that it’s okay to say no and sometimes you need to say no to set a boundary, stop overthinking and be comfortable leading more. Don’t be scared of others and their reactions/opinions, learn how to assert dominance and listen more to your intuition. Learn how to prioritize or learn how to put yourself first and make people respect it, learn how to not be so giving to people that aren’t reciprocating the energy. Signs- Leo/taurus. Aquarius in 3rd house/leo in 10th house. Initials- P, L, G, W

Personal readings always available!

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more PNGs by @pngblog @luvpngs

[moonastro]

the vibe you give out to others

pick a picture

left to right(top)-> 1,2

left to right(bottom)-> 3,4

°DO NOT take this as literal, take everything with a grain of salt as this is purely and intendedly for entertainment purposes. °Don't be afraid to give feedback and opinions about this post (as i would entirely appreciate it). ° This is a GENERAL reading, take what resonates and leave and pass on what does not!

PILE ONE

someone who can communicate hours on end with someone, usually about the deeper stuff. so you may like to share your thoughts a lot which leaves people guessing that you would be a very good person to talk to. you also are good with reading the vibes of a room, people almost expect you to change the atmosphere of the vibe within a group. you really are someone who solves problems, situation ships and other things people may need assistance with. i feel like you help others grow, you teach people from wrong or right and perform humanitarian acts. if you are in a bad situation, you get the heck out of there as soon as possible, people know that because you may express your thoughts and feeling through communication. i feel like you talk about the little things to others that they might even find that you can be oversharing at times. anyhow, you may look back on what people did you in the past or vice versa. you don't hold onto a thread, you make very clear decisions that take you wherever it may.

yeah, you learn from your mistakes and only go forward which makes you a stronger individual. there is still some youthful energy surrounding this pile, so don't forget to not be hard on yourself all the time, you give out but not necessarily get given back which allows people to use your time unnecessarily. people can also see a child in you, you may get told that you remind someone of their son or daughter. being behind the scenes is what you are used to and may project a certain insecurity that others notice. i feel like its that others see their own insecurities in you as well which may cause jealousy. you are careful though, you plan, you observe and you double check. there is nothing wrong with being in routine but i feel like people notice that you are too afraid of failure because you might have grew up to be the high achieving kid or the oldest child who had influence on the younger siblings and so forth. overall a very sensual and hardworking pile.

assigned song: Black beauty- Lana Del Rey

PILE TWO

very energetic around people or friends and family but think a lot by yourself, you may keep your true self hidden. you are such a good manifester and people notice that whatever you say out loud becomes real. people may call you a psychic because you just know things before others do, for example if a friend asks about something like an event and you just tell them like "watch this happen in there" and something like this and it happening. you are quite reserved with your feeling and emotions, you use them on better things. around you, others feel confident and secure. you are a very good empath and feel whatever others are feeling, so it is very easy to empress ones feelings to you. you are such a caring and observing individual that others feel nothing but security and comfort around you. honestly such a nostalgic pile!!

you crave a free life where you are not stuck to anything or anyone, people feel the freedom you possess. you don't aim to be powerful nor business oriented, you just want to see what's out there and see what other cultures and countries have in store for you. i feel like you have a plan that you have that consists of you travelling abroad and creating a happy home there at a new setting. you are good with legal matters like documents, credit cards, the law and so forth. you may know about it as you may be interesting in becoming a lawyer or working somewhere that involves a law, like police and so on. but on a real note, you balance everything out in your life, people see how well you split your routine in even pieces. overall, this is a very free spirited and intelligent pile!

assigned song: Ride- Lana Del Rey

PILE THREE

someone who reserves there space and energy, someone who talks very cautiously and are aware of their surroundings. a lot of people don't actually know how to figure you out and it may sound very cliché but i think its just because you don't reveal your feelings by making facial expressions and people don't know whether to laugh or cry when you tell them something serious. you might like to do stuff alone and may feel like a burden to others but it is not the case for other people, they see you as a sweet and isolated human being that likes their space and peace. i see a LOTTT of overthinking and just daydreaming in general. i feel like something is restricting you from taking action and i think it is your thoughts, relax pile 3😅. no but for real, others avoid you not because you are unlikable but because they see how you thrive alone and you don't look like the type of person that needs help from others.

you may have moved a lot as a child and felt like you lost many things because of that. i feel like you don't feel secure and people notice the disease you portray in your body language. that is totally not a bad thing but i feel like others see the frustration and a void that you have, this is very deep but I'm getting an image of just a black figure which may translate of you feeling numb or not feeling anything at all. i feel like this was in the past for some of you, however where there is hardships there is hope and that is exactly the case for this pile. on a good note, your smile brings comfort to others, may make others happy with your smile and that's just so sweet. you do have many ideas flooding in your mind and i feel like that could bring you excesses so be careful. you have many ideas to start over or to change your personality completely. overall, this is a very reserved and a busy mind pile!

assigned song: How to Disappear- Lana Del Rey

PILE FOUR

check out pile one if you felt drawn to it as it may resonate with some of you!! so, you care about others very deeply and this gives me motherly vibes. i feel like you may not listen to people and do your own thing but that's entirely okay but the way i see it is that you sometimes need to take advice in order to move forward. you stand your ground fairly and see the contrast between right and wrong, i feel like that gets people thinking how you pick up on things others don't pay much attention to. say if you called someone out for something, others may go like "oh yeah, i didn't even notice". you really cant be bothered to argue with no one, you feel like there is no point because people are childish and immature and that is something you would rather pass on. conflicts and any other sort of fighting is a strict no go for you. people get the vibe of how can you keep your cool??? they actually are very impressed of your skill to maintain your cool😊. i feel like also you go through very transformative periods in your life that actually change your way you act, maybe you go through different eras and like to experiment different styles and ways of living which is totally fine.

wow, you are a very powerful soul, you have some sort of power that others are stunned. you are literally the lion of the jungle, the boss, the CEO, the millionaire, the royal. WOwww just wow. people just keep getting surprise on surprise from you, you may have so many precious hidden facts about you that make people stunned by the fact that you have so much treasure hidden. people see you as a very humble individual who is always there for people and see the good in everyone. it is such a pleasure to be around you, people may feel almost lucky to have you in their life. you hold a lot of secrets as you may stand with he statement that if you talk about your achievements to others it may delay your success. overall, a very very very powerful and mysterious pile.

assigned song: LION- (G)-idle

that's it everyone, thanks for sticking by and like always don't be afraid to interact with this post however you'd like as i entire appreciate everyone's support and kindness!!

FRIENDLY REMINDER- paid tarot readings are available (DM or check out here for more info!!)

*IMAGES ARE NOT MINE*

[raayllum]

Rayla's Super Selective Hearing, or What is Callum Actually Afraid of?

There's a running current throughout the series, but especially Arc 2 and S6 in particular, about recognizing fear in another individual and the importance of it as a sort of moral horizon line not to cross.

We see this time and time again being twisted/warped with the dark mage characters:

as well as others as a warning sign

which is contrasted most notably with Rayla in S1 as an explicit reason for mercy and recognizing personhood:

RUNAAN: You let him go! RAYLA: Runaan, I'm sorry. The human — he looked up at me and I saw the fear in his eyes. RUNAAN: Of course he was afraid, but you had a job to do! (1x01)

RAYLA: And then I just... let him go. I don't know why. EZRAN: Because you felt for him. RAYLA: But he was a human. My enemy. EZRAN: Yeah, but then you saw he was scared, and you knew he was a person, just like you. RAYLA: That shouldn't have mattered. I had a job to do. (1x08)

and in pleas of ignoring fear:

versus reassurance that it's okay, even if the two can overlap:

And fear, is, of course one of the most consistent feelings that Callum has towards Aaravos, and subsequently one of the threads built upon between Callum and Rayla.

Some of this, mind you, is because they're going to have to confront the "it doesn't matter that the human was afraid, you had a job to do and should've killed him" holdover whenever Callum gets possessed again, which is also part of the reason why Runaan turns and flees from Rayla's compassion and forgiveness in 6x09: he's afraid he doesn't deserve it, and that he "can't go back". He's worried that he's too far gone, and that he's a monster.

This also plays into Viren's realization and acceptance of what had happened with Lissa, who was terrified of him and said similarly that he had "become a monster" as previously noted (and eventually he was able to acknowledge that she was right).

This same fear of becoming monstrous one of the many fears we see plaguing Callum in S6: that not only will Aaravos control and/or manipulate him, not only did he do dark magic again, but that if it happens again or if Rayla finds out that she'll be scared of him, down to similar framing to boot.

Callum's fear doesn't come to fruition in 6x03, with Rayla being not scared of him, for scared for him. As she lists out reasons why he shouldn't do dark magic (without knowing why he did so), she cites:

Because it's dangerous. Because it hurts you. But most of all, because it makes you vulnerable to the thing you're most afraid of. [...] I just don't understand why you would keep doing it, knowing that it puts your life in terrible danger.

And Rayla has good reason to think that Aaravos is Callum's worst fear, given that Callum has emphasized his fear over Aaravos a few times to her:

So Callum is scared of Aaravos, as are most of the characters, but the possession gets to him specifically. Part of this is because the possession strips Callum of the quality he cares about the most: his agency ("You think [making a mistake because Aaravos took control of me] makes me feel better? That makes me feel worse" / "I felt so weak and out of control. I was his puppet"). This is also what he affirms to Ezran in 4x05 ("when he took over my whole body and used me like a puppet").

The other side is one that he spells out for us in 4x07, so let's go line by line now that S6 has provided more reaffirmation / context.

I'm not afraid that he'll hurt me.

This line, of course, shows Callum's selflessness and willingness to risk his life (1x02, 2x07, 3x01, 3x09, 5x08), in addition to his rationale for asking Rayla to kill him. If his destiny under Aaravos and the harm it brings it inevitable, his own life and safety would be a reasonable concern, but it's not. And we know this because it's Rayla's primary concern in the possession plotline, and one that's not good enough for him. "We're all in danger," he rebuts when she just talks about him; she questions why he would use dark magic again when "it puts your life in terrible danger". But just his own life being at risk isn't enough to get him to not do something — at least not when he has a good enough motivation ("You can risk your life to learn magic" vs jumping off the Pinnacle or trying to take Ezran's place).

I'm afraid that he'll use me

This line is the crux of Callum's dynamic with Aaravos on his end — the fear, the concern, the paranoia. In 4x07, it's a scary possibility; in 6x01, he treats it more like an imminent inevitability unless he can find a way to destroy the pearl: "As long as it's here or anywhere, it poses a threat, because Aaravos can manipulate people on the outside. Like he did with Lord Viren. And... me." We'll get to why I think this change of "he will" (still leaves some room for doubt) to "he is" (he is going to) has happened in the next couple of lines. We also see that Callum finding out that Aaravos has used him in switching the pearl in 6x06 was enough to break his spirit even without knowing anything that leaving the pearl back in Katolis was going to lead to, so the stakes of the action itself (losing agency/control) are high. It's scary to think he might've already "played into" Aaravos' hands per his 'destiny' even if we know (thanks to the pawn intro) that he hasn't and much more is in store.

But what is Callum scared about when it comes to Aaravos' hold on him? Especially since 6x01 trims both of these things out of the mix in terms of verbal dialogue.

to do awful things

This is the first thing Callum mentions, so it accordingly has weight. We see that Callum, like the bulk of the main cast but especially the core trio, wants to and tries to do the right thing ("The right thing, I hope") and it's something he admires in other people ("she does what's right even when it puts her own life in danger"). He doesn't want to cause unnecessary suffering and he doesn't want to hurt people, and unlike characters who also feel that way most of the time but don't follow through (hi Claudia, hi arc 1 Viren), he is usually accordingly tormented and guilty when he feels like he hasn't lived up to his own ideal (apologizing to Ez for his temper, doing dark magic, etc).

However, "awful things" is a little vague. It can't include hurting the people around him per say because that gets its own distinction, so what does 'awful things' refer to? Harrow refers to his choices with the Magma Titan and Avizandum and Zym as "terrible things"; Soren asserts the same about trying to kill the princes; and Terry most explicitly tells Claudia that "I've seen you do a lot of awful things, dark magic things". So the most distinct thing we can get there is 1) killing and/or sacrificing people and/or 2) dark magic in general.

This is, to me, part of why 5x08 is so difficult for Callum as an episode, because he's forced to do some terrible things. Finnegrin tries to make him pick which one of his loved ones is losing a hand; Callum is nearly coerced and then chooses to use dark magic; he gives a dangerous man an even more dangerous spell and the trade doesn't even amount to anything.

Because if it comes down to doing terrible things, Callum would prefer doing that in order to not

or hurt people I care about.

Callum clearly thinks that dark magic and doing dark magic is awful. We see this routinely expressed throughout the series, scaffolded by dark magic always being a last resort and nothing else for him thus far: "But is it really so wrong?" "Yes!" (2x08); "But in your eyes I see guilt. What have you done that's got you so twisted up inside?" (5x08); "I did it, I'm ruined, it's too late for me, who cares?" (6x03)

Ergo, on Finnegrin's ship, in his own eyes, he did something awful. This is because I think it's evident that being vulnerable to Aaravos isn't Callum's worst fear, as Rayla posits: it's losing her or Ezran.

Being vulnerable and possessed by Aaravos is scary to him because it might mean hurting them. Yes he doesn't want to do something awful, but we've seen in canon that he's willing to if the alternative is letting either of them die (much like how Rayla didn't want to emotionally hurt Callum, but it was a trade she was willing to make if it meant keeping him physically safe). We know he's not worried about Aaravos controlling him just for his own safety (points to previous sections).

The phrasing of the line itself is interesting, as you can read it two ways, of him being scared Aaravos will use him to hurt his loved ones, or scared that Aaravos (generally) will hurt his loved ones. Neither is an appealing prospect.

But as Finnegrin says:

All that talk about how love makes you stronger, but the second you see that elf girl in pain, you completely lost yourself.

Callum would rather do something awful (dark magic) and make himself vulnerable to Aaravos, his 'worst fear,' than lose Rayla (or Ezran), which is his Actual worst fear. This is, of course, just perfect Greek tragedy irony: Callum getting possessed in order to save Rayla, only to inadvertently put her in danger again under Aaravos' control. Nor is this exclusive to Callum — I imagine the worst fears for basically everyone in TDP would be the loss of the people they love, even over the loss of their own life, and this is something we see reflected time and time again with Harrow and Sarai, Gren and Amaya, Aaravos and Leola, Rayla and Callum, etc.

What is more exclusive to Callum is the sheer lengths he may be willing to go to in order to not lose them. As he says in 4x07, he's afraid Aaravos will use him because it could lead to doing awful things or hurting people he loves; in 6x01, his speech has changed because he has a better understanding of how/why Aaravos would be able to manipulate him, and because he knows he'll do things he considers awful to protect/save the people he loves.

After all, as previously noted, Callum is afraid of having no choice... and that's exactly what happened.

[leviathan-supersystem]

how do you get good at debating? how do you put on a cruel stage show? how do you get practice identifying the buckling points in someone’s argument as it happens?

the first and most important part is to read some currently occurring debates on the topic so you know what current talking points are in circulation. this is the absolute most important part, if you don't do this nothing else matters, even if you're smart and well-read in general if you don't know what people are saying in the discourse about that specific topic Right Now then you're going to be playing catch-up and being caught off guard.

at any given time The Discourse on any given topic is mostly composed of like, 12 talking points just getting churned around and repeated back and forth. learn what the best arguments are for the side you agree with, learn what the rebuttals are to the arguments from the opposing side, and if any arguments from the opposing side don't already have ready-made rebuttals, try to see if you can craft a rebuttal of your own to that point from scratch. that way you'll go into every debate basically already knowing what they're going to say and having a ready-to go rebuttal for every point. you can even just copy-paste your rebuttals if you highlight that you're doing that, i do that with my rebuttal against the ancap "achktually, the REAL definition of capitalism is-" argument, and the fact that i'm copy-pasting the same block of text and it works flawlessly every single time just makes their argument look even worse.

If an opponent makes any given claim, don't just assume it's true. look it up. especially if they don't have a source, but even if they do have a source, look up other sources on that topic and see if their source has already be debunked. so often i see someone just outright lie in a debate, and the other person just continues the debate assuming their lie was true.

i'm not immune to this myself, i was arguing with that guy who said "ahaha well palestinians are majority shia and yemenis are majority sunnis and sunnis HATE shi'ites, so yemenis don't even actually care about palestinians, they just hate jews!" and i wrote a whole rebuttal assuming the claim about sunni/shia demographics in those regions was true and then i looked up the statistics on shia/sunni demographics in palestine and yemen, not even trying to debunk or fact-check him, only to find that palestine and yemen are both majority sunni! palestine has a *larger* sunni majority even! so i had to go back and delete my whole response and replace it with "palestine is majority sunni you cretin." just assuming an opponent's factual claims are true without checking them is one of the most rookie mistakes out there, but no matter how much experience you have you can still fall into it if you don't check yourself.

since no ideology can ever perfectly capture reality, every single ideology has certain facts that they can't address adequately. figure out which facts these are for your opponent's ideology and repeat them as often as possible, demand your opponent address them and don't let them try to change the subject when they can't.

for example, there is no way for the conventional anti-communist narrative of "marxism-leninism was bad for everybody, it's fundamentally a failure as an economic system" to account for the fact that the majority of russians consistently say in polls that socialism was better than capitalism and that the soviet union was the greatest time in the history of russia. if you just keep coming back to this fact they'll just keep getting more stressed out and trying to dodge that topic in more desperate ways.

ideologies will also oftentimes have internal inconsistencies, you can also just keep bringing the conversation back to these and watch your opponent squirm. also, conversely, if there are any inconsistencies in your own views, correct these so your opponent can't do this to you. there are plenty of right-wingers who get a lot of mileage by pointing to the dissonance between gun control and other popular progressive positions ("how are you going to condemn the police and then say only cops should have guns?" etc) and by simply being adamantly pro-gun and against gun-control i can basically become impervious to those arguments. they keep using those arguments and i just say "well i'm against gun control" and it shuts them down completely.

similarly a lot of these arguments that hinge on pointing out hypocrisy/incongruity on the other side are directly mirrored by an inverted hypocrisy/incongruity on their own. while the right-wingers are correct to point to an incongruity in the popular progressive "anti-cop, pro-gun control" position, this incongruity is mirrored by an equal incongruity in the "pro-cop, anti-gun control" position which is popular among right-wingers ("if you think we need guns to overthrow the government, why do you want the agents of that government better armed and equipped? who do you think enforces the gun control laws you decry?" etc)- if you jump into the fray of this discourse with an "anti-cop, anti-gun control" position, you can hammer the right-winger on their inconsistency while remaining invulnerable to attempts to do the same to you. similarly if any more mainstream liberals want to try to start shit with you you can also point to the incongruity/hypocrisy of their position while remaining impervious to retaliation.

i'm using gun control as an example, but you can apply this sort of tactic to basically any discourse where two sides are mutually accusing each other of hypocrisy/incongruity. they're probably both right to a degree, and you can get a lot of mileage by crafting a position more internally consistent than either side of the debate.

also, anyone who tries to convince you you should only argue in a vacuum is dumb as hell, your opponents previously stated opinions are completely relevant to the conversation, especially if they suggest that their currently stated positions in the debate are insincere or hypocritical. if someone is debating israel/palestine with you, and they say "the hamasniks don't represent the interests of the palestinian people- it is israel, ultimately, who does, and the hamas extremists are just disrupting this peace and making things worse for everyone." it's absolutely relevant if a week ago they were posting "all arabs are subhuman dogs who must be exterminated, islam is an inherently violent religion which no society should tolerate" and so on and so forth.

if you're arguing about a topic with someone, search that topic on their blog and see what else they've had to say about it. people will whine about "poisoning the well fallacy" but that's obviously just a fake "fallacy" attempting to ban an entirely legitimate debate tactic. yes, if someone is insincere in making an argument, that absolutely reflects badly on their argument, and their previous track record absolutely can demonstrate if they're insincere, it's stupid for them to go "uh uh uh poisoning the well fallacy, you can't point out that i'm a lying little shit, you have to pretend i'm not" and everyone who sees the debate will know it's stupid for them to do this. if you've effectively revealed someone as a liar, they won't be able to redeem their reputation in anyone's eyes by saying "well you're not allowed to prove i'm a liar" no matter how hard they try.

idk thats the stuff i can think of off the top of my head, i'll try to add more if i can think of anything.

[scoobydoodean]

seriously why is gadreel so likeable. like somehow gadreel's actor nailed the likeable vibe castiel has and that's Crazy. (im not saying i think everything he did was justified im just saying hes like. i appreciate him for having a consistent moral code that he tries to live by even if he gets manipulated)

When he first shows up, he behaves like (the romanticized version of) a medieval knight. Like. Listen to his dialogue when he first appears to rescue Dean from an angel beating the shit out of him.

GADREEL/EZEKIEL: Easy there, brother. This young man has prayed for our assistance. Are we creatures of wrath or compassion? I would argue the latter.

He has a very (charmingly) "old fashioned" take on angelic duty. He believes it's their job to help humans. His ultimate sacrifice reinforces that that isn't something he made up to manipulate Dean—he really truly believes what he's saying and he wants to be a good and righteous angel! His attitude is almost like season 4 Cas (who is so convinced that he's on a holy mission) but actually less cynical—more chivalrous.

He's already been injured by the fall, but when he hears Dean's prayer, he makes his way to him for no other reason than Dean prayed for the help of an angel!

He tries to deescalate the situation:

ANGEL: Forgive me, brother. I don't recognize you. GADREEL/EZEKIEL: Happy to make your re-acquaintance. After you disarm. [The angel pretends to be willing to talk but then attacks Gadreel] GADREEL/EZEKIEL: Come, now. Is that any way to treat a brother injured in the fall?

He indicates that (while we know he was in prison so he couldn't actually take action) he rooted for Cas's side.

GADREEL/EZEKIEL: Believe it or not, some of us still do believe in our mission. And that means we believe in Castiel...and you.

And of course—Cas's little mistake freed him from prison, so that's another reason he's not pissed at Cas like the rest of the angels. That said, I don't think Gadreel is being dishonest about being on Cas's side. I just think when the time comes, he's still too scared that Cas will reject him to risk an encounter (and that fear doesn't turn out to be unfounded to be fair).

He also chooses the alias of an angel Cas ends up vouching for with a smile, calling him a "good soldier". While I think Metatron is right to say in 9.09 that Gadreel chose to take Ezekiel's name because he had a good reputation (something Gadreel sorely lacks) I think his choice also suggests Gadreel and Cas have similar values, because they hold the same angel in high regard—and the angels in general liking some angel doesn't necessarily mean Cas thinks that highly of that angel, considering how much Cas has morally clashed with the rest of his brethren.

I've also talked before about Gadreel's vessel choice being very interesting. Almost all the other angels (the only exception I can think of being Samandriel) choose vessels that work corporate jobs. Their attire (among other things) aligns them with the upper class. Gadreel, on the other hand, asks a bartender to be his vessel. I think it's interesting that the two angels Dean seems to trust most immediately end up being Gadreel and Samandriel... and they ARE both angels who share Cas's stance on humanity more generally. At the same time, they're also not human, and just as we see with Cas sometimes, we see with Gadreel in season 9 that fealty to certain ideals leads angels (with the soldier's mindset) to be ruthless when they believe they are required to be to be righteous. And reputation matters a lot to them (see: season 6 Cas hiding what he's doing from absolutely everyone he knows, keeping Crowley as his dirty little secret).

Gadreel's problem is that his sense of chivalry is dampened by the terror he feels at the idea of being found out and thrown back into a cell for eternity. He wants to repair his reputation, and Metatron convinces him that restoring order in heaven will please God and re-legitimize him. Cas's season 4 mistakes were centered around the belief that he was serving God, which is what Metatron sells Gadreel on, and like Cas in season 4 (and again in season 12), Gadreel is also lured by the concept of paradise.

METATRON: You and I ... We could have paradise again, Gadreel.

Even when Metatron demands a test of his loyalty (while dangling the opportunity to become heaven's hero over his head like a tasty carrot) Gadreel refuses before even knowing who Metatron wants him to hurt:

METATRON: No, I mean REALLY sure. We have enemies who pose an imminent threat to our effort. They must be neutralized. GADREEL-IN-SAM: Slain? METATRON: In a word. GADREEL-IN-SAM: That... That is not who I am.

Gadreel proceeds to do several things he shouldn't do, but Metatron also lies to him at various points about the true nature of what he's doing because Metatron knows he can only push Gadreel so far before Gadreel morally objects. When Gadreel realizes that Metatron orchestrated the deaths of several angels he brainwashed and that he's going to hurt humanity, he accepts Metatron's true nature—that he isn't God's representative and nothing he's doing is righteous—and defects. After being wounded by MoC Dean, Gadreel tries to stop Cas from wasting grace healing him:

GADREEL: Please. I'll leave you alone, I swear. CASTIEL [reaching out to heal him]: We're not here to hurt you. GADREEL: No. Your Grace. Healing me will only weaken you. [CASTIEL doesn't even hesitant and instantly heals GADREEL]

Then in a last heroic act, Gadreel sacrifices himself to save humanity and the angels.

GADREEL: The only thing that matters in the end is the mission -- protecting those who would not and cannot protect themselves --the humans. None of us is bigger than that. And we will not let our fears, our self-absorption prevent us from seeing it through. Not anymore.

I MEAN?!?!?! It's just... so endearingly saturday-morning-superhero-cartoon style heroic. Knights of the round table heroic. It's endearing!

Even as he's dying to blow a hole in the cell to free Cas, he tells Hannah (who is keeping guard) in a superhero voice,

GADREEL: Run, sister.

[ilikekidsshows]

did you see the spoilers for ml season 6 where there’s a new girl with a prosthetic leg and that leg ends up broken and marinette’s involved somehow? honestly i’m gonna give marinette the benefit of the doubt for now and just assume this is either a huge misunderstanding/accident or extremely misleading spoiler just because this is a serious thing, like I was super disappointed with how her character’s written in season 4 and 5 but I just don’t want to believe the writers would come up with something like this when this would easily be one of the worst things she’s ever done (if she’s actually responsible). I saw the spoiler on TikTok and there’s several explanations I’ve seen in the comments:

the new girl (idr her name) is lila/cerise in disguise and she wants to ruin marinette’s reputation (iirc the writers said she’s nice and not a villain but maybe they just don’t want to spoil the plot for obvious reasons)

marinette didn’t have bad intentions/it was an accident/misunderstanding/spoilers are too misleading/not enough information yet

and my least favorite explanation…the new girl was trying to get with adrien (some fans are saying this to say this is all part of her scheme to get adrien to break up with marinette and date her instead but some are saying this to justify marinette if she was actually at fault for this)

I think my main concern is how the writers are going to address this. What if they try to justify it if marinette really was at fault? Or what if it’s all a misunderstanding but then they put the new girl to the side to focus on how sad this is for marinette? Are they going to be able to address this in a way that doesn’t come across as ableist while also not making their protagonist look like a bad person? What do you think?

---

I just saw the leak, but at first I couldn't find it, so I’d already written a response before that, so here's me describing the possible nightmare scenarios before the writers proved me right about their priorities:

Like, hot take, but it doesn’t matter what the new girl is doing, messing with her mobility aid would still be absolutely unforgivable. Even if it’s Lila in disguise, Marinette has already exhibited so much ableism in trying to prove her disabilities aren’t real that I would just say that the writers shouldn’t be allowed to as much as mention any disability ever again. “A person claiming they’re disabled could be lying to get special considerations, so make sure to check any claims of disability, no matter how awful you come across for doing it,” is not a lesson that has any place in a children’s cartoon, even accidentally. And that’s exactly what any scenario with a girl faking a disability / using their disability to get closer to Adrien would entail as well, the idea that we should be suspicious of disabled people trying to “cheat” their way to things that “belong” to us.

But, like, even if it actually is going to be aiming to be an actual lesson in disabilities where it’s all a misunderstanding/mistake, the thing is that, lately, I’ve been looking back at the “lessons” in this show, even in the earlier seasons, and I just don’t have faith in these writers’ ability to deliver any kind of moral to kids in a consistent way, unless they’re going to have a character directly talk to the screen to explain what the moral is.

Let’s use ‘The Mime’ as an example. The scenario in this episode is that Marinette, through her clumsiness, deletes the most important video Alya had filmed so far, and then spends the rest of the episode trying to recreate the video in order to cover up for her mistake. In the end, it turns out there was no problem because Alya had already saved a copy of the video because she expected something like Marinette deleting it to happen, so she was never even mad or disappointed, but Marinette still sets up Alya to get a one-on-one interview with Ladybug. What did Marinette learn in this episode exactly?

The most good faith interpretation of the episode is that the point is that you own up and make up for your mistakes, hence Marinette setting Alya up to get an interview with Ladybug. But this message is muddled up by the fact that, even before the retool, the writers didn’t want Marinette suffering any real consequences for messing up, or to show her messing up in a way that couldn’t be “fixed”, so the video was actually safe and no irreparable damage was done. Alya had foreseen that Marinette would mess up and planned accordingly. This takes the wind out of the sails of the lesson because of course Marinette would do something nice for Alya, who’s such a considerate friend who never gets mad at her and plans around Marinette’s flaws. It’s a pretty different thing to go out of your way to apologise or make things up to someone who is actually mad at you for a good reason, and it requires a lot more courage. The situation in ‘The Mime’ is the easiest version of this situation imaginable for Marinette, but completely unrealistic for anyone facing this kind of situation in real life.

So, with this kind of previous showing back when I still had faith in this show, how would I expect them to deal with Marinette accidentally messing with someone’s mobility aid post-retool? I’d expect a lot of focus on how upsette Marinette is, because that’s the show’s number one priority outside of the love quest, with the show going out of it’s way to make it very clear that Marinette didn’t mean to, she feels really bad about it and she’s scared of how the new girl will react. At the end of the episode she would gather her courage and face the music, and it turns out the new girl was actually getting a new mobility aid that very same day and she wouldn’t have needed the old one any longer anyway. And then Marinette will maybe make some gesture of friendship that the new girl gladly accepts, no hard feelings. Any normal person would still be pissed about their expensive mobility aid being messed with, but the writers of this show never have characters react normally when the normal thing to do is not instantly forgive Marinette. So this scenario would be making things easy for Marinette, but completely unrealistic for the viewing audience.

Simply put, I really, really really hope the sneak preview is purposefully misleading, as they tend to be, and the crew doesn’t try to tackle the topic of physical disabilities with their tendency to favor the perspective of their coddled, able-bodied protagonist.

—

After seeing the leak:

So, like, fucking hell, way to further sully the idea that Marinette ever took her job as Ladybug seriously. Just to make herself look like the victim when she’s caught stalking someone (something she insisted last season she’d stopped doing), she goes so far as faking being Akumatized, transforming into Ladybug and jumping right in the middle of the field, of this girl's path, to scream about an Akuma attack. Like, the reveal that Sublime knew there was actually no Akuma and that Tomoe apparently made the leg less sturdy on purpose doesn’t make it better when Marinette got Sublime slippery and then startled her enough to make her slip. People break perfectly fine legs from slipping, it's why anti-skid devices sell so well in winter. All of this being an accident doesn’t make it okay, and Marinette sure as hell didn’t have anything close to those “good intentions” her stans love to attribute to her.

But, of course, her victim is going to be a perfect flawless angel who wasn't even upset about the stalking, instead defending Marinette to Ladybug, just in case saying: “this girl I know pretended to be Akumatized because she was caught stalking me” might make Marinette look bad to the audience. She also instantly reassures Ladybug, the one who actually caused her to slip, who hasn't done anything more than stare at her slack-jawed, because god forbid anyone ever say anything about Marinette that isn't validation or praise while she's too busy freaking out about herself.

Like, Marinette causes Sublime to break her leg, and we instantly see the victim in this situation go: “I’m okay, I’m not hurt”, while Marinette just stands there having her personal little panic attack. Like, a girl lost her leg, and the writers still try to sell Marinette as the injured party by having the victim insist she's okay while Marinette is having another one of her manipulative, please-feel-sorry-for-me-audience emotional breakdowns. The writers seriously made Marinette’s victim prioritize reassuring her over anything else.

I knew the writers were going to have Marinette be instantly forgiven, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so instant that she didn’t even get to finish processing her fuck-up. Or to go so out of their way to make Marinette seem less at fault because, like, Tomoe messing with the leg on purpose isn't a villain scheme, it was just to make Marinette look better in comparison.

The writers have this ability where, when I write down what I think would be a very likely way for one of their stories to go very badly, they do just that while still managing to make it worse.