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writingsbychlo · 4 months

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WHITE XMAS | mattheo riddle

summary; mattheo comes to spend christmas with you and your family.

word count; 15,245

notes; I have never played chess in my life, chess girlies don't come for me. pic was made by @finalgirllx!

“So, Matty, what are your Christmas plans?” You murmur, head bopping lightly to the beat of the tacky Christmas CD that was playing over the Common Room speakers. “Will Tom be coming home for Christmas?”

“Are you kidding?” Mattheo muttered, cursing as he readjusted his grip on the dwindling charcoal in his fingers once again, peeking another glance over the edge of his tatty sketchpad to you. “Why would he?”

“Because it’s nice! It’s Christmas, it’s a time for family to come together.”

“Not mine.” He blew a curl from his eyes, pausing. Tilting his head, he narrowed his eyes as his gaze flickered between the page, and a very specific spot on your shoulder. “Tom has escaped, he doesn’t have to come home for the annual Riddle-family Christmas Horror Show.”

That brought a frown to your lips, and he tutted. “Keep smiling.”

“You’re not even drawing my face right now.” You snipped back, and the edges of his lips tipped up in a smirk, focusing as he dragged the tool in his hand over the paper, back and forth. Soft scraping filled the room, along with the general chatter of the few other students dotted throughout the room, background noise with their undecipherable muttering and the music. “You don’t like Christmas?”

“Why would I? Christmas magic never existed for me. The very day I first asked about Santa, Tom pulled me aside and told me he wasn’t real. Warned me not to ask about him.” With a sigh, he dropped the notepad to sit flat in his lap, resting the charcoal on the side table, and shrugging. When he wiped his forehead, he unknowingly left a smear of grey over his skin. “I was stupid, and four. I asked my father, and he laughed at me and told me not to be pathetic. Everything I got in this world was hard-earned, and came by his generosity, and his alone.”

“Matty…”

“Don’t pity me. Can’t love what I never had.” Despite his brave words, there was an underlying emptiness to his voice, the kind that formed over years of hurt finally losing its bite. The way scarred flesh didn’t hurt, but they never stitched up quite right.

You whisper, standing up and making your way over to him. He looked up at you now as you stood before him, hand raising to wipe the smudge away with your thumb. “It’s that bad?”

He only hummed. “I get to parade around, playing the ‘seen but not heard’ son as my father cashes in on a big business day. It’s such a great time to ‘make connections’. Normally I’d have Tom with me, and we’d spend the days counting down until my birthday, and his. On the 30th, we’d sneak out and get two cupcakes, right between. He’ll be back for New Year's, my father is making him, but I can’t begrudge him staying away for Christmas.”

“You make me so sad sometimes.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” He murmured, leaning up to pinch at your waist lightly, a spot he knew was ticklish. You jerked away from him with a gasp of a laugh, smacking his hand as you went. “Don’t worry. I’ll be at the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball. I’ll see you all then, I can look forward to it.”

“No.”

“No?” He echoed, a smile forming on his face, and he tugged you in closer, arms wrapping around your thighs. “The fuck do you mean no?”

“I mean, that won’t do. Your Christmas plans make me want to commit a festive crime. Hit your dad with a sleigh, or something.” That brought real laughter from him, a loud burst, his eyes closing a little as he rested his forehead on your stomach, his shoulders shaking. “I have a big family Christmas. All my aunts and uncles and cousins and their kids. There’s going to be at least twenty of us.”

“Now you’re just rubbing it in.” He muttered, shaking his head, frowning up at you falsely.

“No, I’m inviting you, if you’d let me finish.”

His expression shifted then, from teasing and humour to vulnerability and disbelief. Pretty brown eyes shone with shock as he stared up at you. Cupping his jaw, you smoothed your thumb along his cheek. “You’re what?”

“Come with me for Christmas Day, Matty. I cannot, in good conscience, enjoy my day, knowing how you’re spending yours.”

“You really want that? Your family wouldn't mind?” Hope raised in his voice, not a hint of denial in sight, and he smiled shakily when you nodded.

“What are friends for, huh? I promise it’ll be okay. My parents are a ‘the more, the merrier’, type.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, thoughts spinning in his gaze, before he pulled you even closer. Pressing his face against your stomach, your hands slipped to his hair instead, running through the curls. It was the same way you did whenever you stumbled across him smoking after a nightmare, or sulking after a letter from home. “We have a floo. You can step right in. I promise, you’d be welcome. Please spend Christmas with me, Mattheo.”

“Okay.” He mumbled, breath hot against your navel through your shirt as he breathed the word against you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He finally turned his head again, resting his cheek there instead, looking away toward the fireplace, throat bobbing. With a final squeeze, he loosened his hold. “I’d really like that.”

“I’ll write down my address for you, and give you all the details.” Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to his messy hair, and he was smiling faintly as you pulled away. “It’ll be great, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt.” Finally, he let go of you fully, and took a bracing breath. Resetting himself, he schooled his features, picking up his sketchpad again and diverting his gaze to it. “Alright, go sit back down. Try and remember your pose, I want to finish this before dinner.”

Rubbing at your eyes tiredly, you were never awake this early, even the children were still snoozing, only one or two other members of your family had woken. Your father had always been an early bird, forcing your mother to be the same, and the two were tinkering in the kitchen, quietly chatting.

One of your grandmas had woken, made her way downstairs, and promptly fallen asleep in the rocking chair next to the fireplace after lighting it with a flick of her wrist. You were sure one of your uncles— maybe a cousin, too— had been wandering upstairs, but perhaps, they’d gone back to bed.

Suppressing a yawn, you jumped when the soft pop of the fireplace sounded, flames changing momentarily from amber and orange to a truly festive shade of green. Stumbling through it was Mattheo.

He didn’t look nearly as tired as you did. More so, he looked alert, in every sense of the word. His eyes were wide, one hand clenched into a tight fist around a bouquet of poor flowers, the other tugging nervously at his collar. He was wearing a red Christmas jumper, a set of tasteful white snowflakes sewn in a band across the chest. His usual black jeans, the best pair he had, seeing as they had no tears or frays, and white sneakers that had been polished to a shine. Possibly, never even worn outside.

“Matty.” You mumbled, and he stepped down from the warmth of the fireplace as the flames flickered back to normal, your grandma merely offering a soft snore beside you both. Mattheo flinched again, like one of Theo’s pranks when he jumped out from behind doorways to scare you all in the dark, and you raised a brow. “You’re up early. Therefore, you naturally called me and woke me up early too.”

“Sorry. I had… restless sleep. I was anxious.”

“Aw,” You smiled, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “You’re all excited like… oh. Well, like a kid on Christmas Day. Huh.” The joke washed over you in waves, still not quite awake enough to be aware of your own words, and he gave you a flat look. “Cute sweater.”

“I just bought it.”

“Why?” You smiled, and his lips twisted like you’d asked a stupid question. He followed you as you guided him from the lounge to the hall, shuffling behind you quickly. “Because you said you would be wearing one!”

“You didn’t have to buy a—” Your words shuttered as his lips smoothed back out, face neutral, but a flicker of uncertainty passed through his eyes. Mattheo didn’t own a Christmas jumper. It made sense, he’d never had reason to, but it didn’t stop your heart from breaking a little. “Come on. Take off your shoes, and let’s go get something to drink. Maybe a really strong coffee, hm?”

He toed off his shoes, neatly stacking them onto the rack beside the various others, some left in a pile. It wasn’t like him, Mattheo left his things everywhere; the group was always picking up after him, but it was clear that he was doing the most to be on his very best behaviour.

Taking his free hand in both of your own, you squeezed it, bringing his attention to you. “Mattheo?”

He hummed, tugging at his collar as he stared beyond you to his reflection in the hallway mirror. Smoothing your hands over his shirt, you patted it down, his eyes dropping to you as you pushed his hand away.

“Mattheo. You’re worrying. You’re supposed to be here to have fun, not be the picture-perfect son like you would at home.” His lips pressed together, like he didn’t believe you, as he sighed through his nose. “You’re perfect just as you are, okay? You don’t need to worry. Everyone knows you’re coming, and they know who you are. I’ve been writing about you all in my letters home for years. Your name isn’t a surprise, and you’re welcome here. Okay?”

“You’re sure?”

“Mattheo Riddle, have I ever lied to you?” Your teasing finally brought a smile to his face. “Have I ever given you a reason not to believe me?”

“No.” He finally conceded.

“Then trust me, hm?”

He rolled his eyes, but his shoulders dropped. With one final glance at his reflection, he turned away, closing the page on those fears and ready to proceed with the day. After only a second of hesitation, he took your hand, squeezing for comfort as you guided him back through the house.

His fingers flexed around your own as you approached the kitchen, your mother laughing gently at some joke your father had told. Both of them turned to face you as you stepped in, tugging Mattheo behind you.

“Mama, Dad, my friend is here. This is Mattheo.”

Shaking his hand free from your own, he smoothed his palm over his jeans before shakily stepping forward and offering his hand. Your mother only smiled as your father shook it firmly. “Good to meet you, our daughter writes about you in her letters a lot.”

“Dad.”

“Oh, it’s true! More than almost anyone else.” Your mother cooed, your exasperated sigh doing nothing to dull their teasing as your mother only pinched his cheek instead of taking his offered hand. “Oh, you’re so tall! She never mentioned that.”

“Mama, stop teasing him!”

“I’m doing no such thing!” She scolded you, tutting as she peered over his shoulder. “It’s good to find a tall man. Like your father, they can reach the fresh stuff on the storage shelves that they don’t want you to get at when you go to the store.”

“Oh, is that all?” You muttered, crossing your arms as she went back to fussing over Mattheo. Your father rolled his eyes, sipping from his ‘World’s Best Daddy’ mug that you’d made when you were five. He saved it for every Christmas Day, like tradition.

“These are for you, Mrs—”

“Oh!” Your mother took the bouquet, admiring them, and not even seeming to notice the slightly crumpled stems that had been his substitute stress-ball. “They’re beautiful, look at them.”

She presented them to your father, who nodded approvingly, and Mattheo turned just long enough to glance over his shoulder. He was bewildered, and red-cheeked.

“Alright, have I sufficiently embarrassed you dear, or should I keep going? I haven’t even told you what a handsome young man he is yet—”

“Oh, I think you’ve done plenty.” Your droll tone made your parents snicker to one another, and she turned away to put the flowers in a vase. Reaching forward and grabbing a fistful of Mattheo’s jumper, you tugged him back to your side. “Is anyone else awake yet?”

“Only your grandma.”

You made a noise of agreement, grateful for the early rise if it meant being able to ease Mattheo into the crazy rush. Leaving his side for just a moment, you took two mugs from the cupboard, your early call also meaning you got the first pick, choosing the best ones and setting them out. Claimed, for the day.

Your mother arranged her gift, showing them off proudly before disappearing to the dining room to find a spot for them on the table. Your father followed, and only a moment later, Mattheo was sidling up close to your side as you worked.

“How’re you holding up so far?” You smirked, and he shook his head, a chuckle tumbling quietly from his lips.

“I think if all your family react like that to me, I have nothing to worry about.”

“Why wouldn't they?” You didn’t give him a chance to disagree, stirring the hot drinks before you and tapping the spoon on the rim. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Mattheo.”

“Some people would disagree.”

“Some people also like pickles.” Your nose scrunched up, and you sought out the pot beside the biscuits, popping the lid and sprinkling some marshmallows onto the steaming surface of each one. “Clearly, their decisions can’t be trusted.”

Turning to him and pushing a mug over the counter, he scoffed. Leaning down until your noses were almost brushing, he smirked. “I like pickles.”

“You’re gross. I’ve seen you drink from a random cup the morning after a party.” Taking your mug, you turned away from him, leaving him spluttering behind you as he grabbed his own and followed.

“First of all, that was one time. Secondly, I knew it was my drink! I’m the one who left it there!”

“Uh-huh.” He pinched at your hip in response falling back into step beside you, and allowing himself to be led into the snug. Smaller, cosier, with only one couch and two worn armchairs, it was one of your favourite rooms in the house. A wobbly bookshelf stood in the corner, and a chessboard sat out before you on the coffee table, a freshly reset game. The rest of the board games were stacked on a shelf. “Wanna’ talk about how the day will go? Put any last fears to rest.”

He glanced up, running his finger over the Queen on the board as he sat down, nodding, thankfully. “I’d like that.”

Settling onto a cushion on the floor instead, on the other side, you turned the board around. Picking up a pawn, you made your first move, and a spark went off in his eyes. “We’ll start with breakfast, when everyone wakes up. Mum loves making a big breakfast, she’s a breakfast foods kind of person. There’s a lot of stuff, a lot in the fridge. It’ll remind you of Hogwarts, but better.”

He smiled at that, picking up a pawn himself and shifting it across, playing the board as he waited to see what moves you’d make. Mattheo was surprisingly patient, and good at playing the long game. He never made a real move until there was more going on across the board.

“Then, we’ll open gifts. The kids will be desperate by then, so we’ll all cram into the sitting room. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to pinch a proper seat.” You shrugged, fingers brushing over your pieces, before plucking one up and making your next move. “After that, we do some baking. We’ll make things for dessert, as well as treats to have throughout the day. My mum has a big flow chart of all the cooking for the meal, most stuff we prepared over the last few days, but it all gets heated up and cooked after that.”

“Lot of kitchen work.”

“Oh, yes. Traditionally, all the ladies will do the cooking, and we leave all the washing up and cleaning for the men.” You gave him a wink, watching him play the board while grinning.

“Christmas Day chores, what a treat.”

“While food cooks, they’ll be… something. Maybe movies, I think one of my uncles put a quiz together, so maybe that. Something fun. Then we’ll eat.” You found yourself stuck already, watching as he already managed to be pinning you down across the checkerboard. You considered your play for a while, and he sipped at his hot chocolate, a pleased noise on his lips as he licked foam from his top lip. “Then…”

“Then?” He said, and finally, you decided what to do, shifting to knock down one of his pieces and snatch it up with a smirk. That smirk didn’t last long, not as you saw his expression. Like you’d fallen right into his trap. He moved quickly, striking like a viper as he swiped up without consideration, and you swore as he took a piece in return.

“Then… I don’t know. The rest of the day is mostly lazing around, letting the food settle, eating more food…”

“Can’t wait.” He whispered, and the moment you made your next play, he was grinning over the rim of his mug. He crossed the board, knocking down your Queen, and beaming as you scowled. “Checkmate.”

“Fuck you.”

“You lasted longer this time. That was, what, twelve moves? I’m impressed.”

“Bite me.” You scoffed, and he flashed his teeth, snapping them in a bite playfully, and you stuck out your tongue.

“Don’t be a sore loser.” Mattheo taunted.

“Didn’t you once punch MacLaggen after a Quidditch match because—”

“You be quiet or I’ll come over there and make you be quiet.” As his eyes shone with mirth, you flipped him off, gulping at your hot chocolate and letting the half-melted, gooey marshmallows sit on your tongue. “Much better.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Oh, now, don’t believe a word she says.” You jumped, turning to the doorway as your cousin poked her head through, and Mattheo stiffened instantly. “She told me she wished I fell off my broom last year, just because I won the little toy inside the last Christmas cracker.”

“Jess!” You beam, lighting up a little as she stepped into the room, her youngest following her inside. The girl who came behind her was only two, still dressed in her striped pyjamas, eyes half open and curls pressed from the side she’s slept on. “Mattheo, meet my least favourite cousin.”

“Now, now. That’s just rude.” She beamed, letting go of her daughter's hand as the youngest began to toddle over towards you on shaky little stomps, letting you scoop her up and place a big kiss on her cheek. As you fawned over her child, Jess reached out, shaking Mattheo’s hand as he sat nervously. “Nice to meet you, Mattheo. I’ve heard a lot about you. Better than the Italian one, that’s for sure.”

“You’ve met Theo?” His shock was evident. Jess scoffed while you just laughed and tickled your baby cousin’s stomach.

“Once, at family week. He happened to bump into us at Hogsmeade. Terrible flirt, isn’t he?”

“You were knocked up at the time, too.” You snickered, and she looked fondly at her daughter.

“Oh, that didn’t stop him.”

“Sounds like our Notty-boy,” Mattheo whispered, turning to look at you. When the girl on your knee looked up at him curiously, he wiggled his fingers, “Hello there.”

She only giggled, turning away to hide her face in your neck.

“You two coming out for breakfast?” Jess sighed, calling her daughter back to her side as you put her down, and she scooped the girl up onto her hip. She turned to Mattheo, mischief written onto her features, “There are some people who want to meet you.”

Standing up and brushing off dirt from the floor, he followed suit, your cousin leaving ahead of you both. Taking your mug in one hand, Mattheo ruffled his hair in the other, patting down the untamed stands.

“What are you— stop doing that.” Grabbing his arm, you didn’t fail to notice the light tremors from his nerves. “You’re squashing all your curls.”

“I should’ve styled my hair this morning. Your family will think I’m a mess.”

“It’s Christmas Day, and you woke me up before I could even wash my face. Trust me, you’re fine.” He only frowned, reaching his hand up towards his hair again, and you pulled it down. Running your hands down his arm, you clasped his hands, reassuringly. His fingers folded around your palm in return. “Ruining your pretty hair won’t make them like you any more, but it’ll make me like you less!”

“You think my curls are pretty?”

Heat flushed your cheeks as he stared at you, curious. He’d always been so pretty, and it never failed to astonish you how all your favourite parts of him were the parts he disliked the most. “Shut up.”

His lips twitched, but he refrained from replying, glancing at the door instead. In a bold move, he took a step toward it, evidently deciding he was ready, as he guided you both out of the room and toward the growing bustle of voices.

Only moments after you emerged, he was swept into the craziness; aunties and uncles and cousins descending on him, all asking a thousand questions a minute. They wanted to know about classes, and where his jumper was from, and if he preferred roast beef or roast turkey. He was taken from you, leaving you to hold both mugs and chuckle at the flustered look on his face.

By the time you’d refilled them both and returned to the pandemonium, he sagged with relief upon seeing you. Kids were already mithering about opening presents, raving madly about Santa, and he was able to slip away from the hustle and back to you.

“Before you chastise me for leaving you,” You pressed the mug into his hands the moment his jaw dropped, pre-empting his words, “I refilled your hot chocolate. I stood no chance, they’re animals, and you were the newest squeaky toy. Luckily, the young have saved you, by nagging about the presents.”

“I’ll let you out of it this time.” He shook his head, serious like he was really mad, even as he leaned in to kiss your temple. His mouth moved to your ear, “Your family are very friendly.”

“They were excited to meet you. You’re fresh meat. How are you at pub quizzes? Because they’ll be all over you.”

He chuckled, and before he could say anything else, your mother was making the call to start cooking breakfast. Just like that, the room seemed to clear of men, all of them slipping away at the word ‘cooking’, taking the kids with them. Only the grandparents were left in the living room, excused from all chores, naturally.

“You can go with the other men if you’d like.”

“I’d rather stay and cook with you… is that okay?” He glanced towards the kitchen, and smiled when you nodded.

“Course you can. Come on.” Leading him to the kitchen, your aunts and cousins were already bustling around, working wherever your mother assigned them to. Your mother snapped her fingers to you, pointing towards the griddle that was heating up, all the ingredients for fluffy pancakes laid out alongside.

Guiding Mattheo over to it after washing your hands, his cheeks went red as he stood before the bowl. “I, uh, maybe didn’t think this through. I don’t know how to cook.” He whispered, embarrassment tinging his voice as everyone around you both seemed to be getting on at speeds.

“That’s okay, why don’t you mix the batter while I add the ingredients, hm?”

That brought his sweet expression back, letting out the breath he was clinging to, and pulling the bowl towards himself. You added each ingredient, weighing them up and measuring them out as he stirred the bowl continuously, switching between arms as he tired. On and on you went, until you had enough butter to make pancakes for an army, and he was eating leftover chocolate chips from the bag while you greased the griddle pan.

He was watching eagerly as your cousin Ki grilled bacon, stacking up a pile that had his entire attention.

“Mattheo, dear, do you want a piece of bacon?” Your mother snapped him from his dazed watch, and his jaw dropped open, the tips of his ears going red.

You snickered, nudging him where he stood beside you, still clutching the bowlful of batter. With a shy nod, his mother picked up a piece handing it to him with a wink, and he beamed upon receiving it.

Tearing off a chunk with his teeth and chewing, he turned to face you, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I think your mother likes me.”

“I told you she would.” You said, a happy sound leaving him at the confirmation. Once the tray was ready, you grabbed for a ladle, and he held the bowl securely, the two of you working to set off the first batch of pancakes to cook. He shuffled every step with you, and while they cooked, you began to work on the second batter batch. “You want to try this time? I can help you.”

“Alright.” He nodded, setting the bowl back on the scale like he’d seen you start with. Scanning his hands over the ingredients, he reached for the flour first, holding it up in question. Sieving it through until you told him to stop, he smiled to himself as he watched the dust fall perfectly. A sprinkle of sugar, and a dash of vanilla essence, and then he circled in the centre with a spoon to create a well.

“Alright, make sure you tap it lightly on the edge. You don’t want bits of shells in the food.”

He was so focused it was almost adorable, your heart skipping a beat as you watched him go, tapping the egg on the bowl so delicately your heart ached. “Like that?”

“Maybe a little harder.”

And then, he cracked it down with another force that the rim of the bowl went halfway through the egg, mangling the whites and the yolks, with splinters of shells going into the food. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“S’okay, we can just pick the shell out and try again. Don’t worry.”

Dipping your fingers into the flour to pick out the pieces of shell, you discarded the broken egg to the side, and he helped fish out all the pieces, meticulously checking there was none left. Handing him a new egg, he eyed his cautiously now.

“C’mere, let me show you.”

Guiding your hand down his arm to cup over his, you guided his hand down with the right amount of pressure, cracking the egg enough to slip your nails in and pull it apart. Taking his other hand too, you huddled in close, your hands over his by the bowl as the pair of you pressed to one another, pulling the egg apart and letting it fall into the well.

“Perfect, see. You’re a natural.”

He turned to look down at you, eyes scanning over your face, a silent moment you didn’t know how to read, before he was turning back to it. You helped him with the second one, and then he did the third and fourth alone, cheering with so much enthusiasm about it that several of your relatives celebrated with him.

He whisked the batter up, flipping the ones already cooking, and stacking them up on a plate before ladling out the batter he’d made. By the time they were finished, he was so eager to try the first thing he’d ever cooked that he almost burned his fingers as he snatched one up. Blowing on it hastily, he took a large bite, huffing some further breaths to cool it down.

“So good.” He groaned, taking another large bite. Following as you took the plate to the dining table, lots of food was already laid out, your grandparents beginning to pile up their plates, and parents dishing up for their kids.

“Sit down, get some of your pancakes while they’re still hot and there’s still some there.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, sinking into a seat and grabbing for a plate. You sat with him, and soon, the whole family was gathered around, filling plates and chatting happily as the sleepiness wore away and the festive excitement settled in.

Chatter went on around you both as Mattheo gave it his best go to eat his body weight in bacon and pancakes, only pausing when you reminded him that there was still plenty of food left to go over the course of the day. He was happy to sit and listen to the conversation going on around him, but when the attention turned to him, he stuttered over his words.

He was nervous to answer any questions that came to him, your hand sliding into his under the table and pulling it onto his lap. It took him several questions to realise that they weren’t bothered by his family name. In fact, nobody asked him about his father, or his mother. He had one question about Tom, but only with respect to him being a brother, not a Riddle.

When this realisation washed over him, the way he lit up was obvious. Nervous responses became animated ramblings, talking with excitement and purpose as he responded to every attempt anyone made to get to know him.

He admitted to your Uncle Jamie that, no, he’d never been fishing. Your father asked him about his grades at school, and your mother berated him, before asking Mattheo about his favourite classes instead. Your Auntie Sally told him all about how she had been sorted in Gryffindor while her brother Steven had been Slytherin. They had epic battles on the Quidditch pitch, no pulled punches, and wondered if that rivalry still lasted. Your Uncle Steven asked him what his hobbies were, and he shyly admitted how much he loved art, which led to your grandad waking back up from his dozing just in time to start telling the same old story about the two-month spell he’d spent as a police sketch artist in the fifties.

He seemed more than happy to talk, settling into the dynamic of the room, and you took your plate to the kitchen, tidying it away. With a kiss on his cheek, you let Mattheo know you were finally going to change.

By the time you stepped back into the room fifteen minutes later, the children were frantically tugging at their adult’s arms to go back through for gifts, the sugar rush starting to kick in. Mattheo was helping to gather dishes away, arms out as your Auntie Sally piled plates and bowls into his arms, his eyes wide as she spoke to him about something.

You followed them through to the kitchen, not failing to miss the occasional drop of your name in the conversation, clearing your throat dramatically and stealing the spotlight. Your Aunt only grinned over her shoulder conspiratorially, unstacking the dirty dishes from Mattheo’s arms into the soapy water of the sink. Mattheo, however, sagged with relief as you appeared. The moment his arms were clear, he was sweeping back over to you, taking a handful of your Christmas jumper and tugging you to his side.

You stumbled along after him out of the room. “The second you left the room, they were all over me. What are my intentions, what are my feelings, when will I ask you out—” His voice hit a shrill note, and you chuckled, unclenching his hand from the material of your sweater.

“I made it very clear to them before today that we weren’t dating. You don’t need to worry about that, they’re just messing with you.”

“I wasn’t— I wasn’t worried, so much as intimidated! They’re scary people.”

“Are you trying to imply I’m not scary?” You tease, taking the edge off of his nerves as he rolled his eyes, focusing on that instead of the conversation you’d just freed him from.

“Oh, I’ve seen you in action. You’re terrifying when you want to be.” He muttered, leaning down to rest his forehead on your own, voice dropping low. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way Draco screamed when you filled his bed with grass snakes.”

“Yes, well, perhaps that’ll teach him not to steal my skin products just because his own ran out.”

“Come on, you two. Presents time.” Sally emerged from the kitchen, clapping her hands and smirking, and you groaned. Taking Mattheo’s hand and guiding him through to the living room, you snatched up a seat on one of the sofas quickly, Mattheo squeezing in beside you.

Children were already tearing into their presents, ribbons and bows and paper were already scattered around the room in a messy storm. Your mother pottered through with a tray of mugs, your father following, and you smiled gratefully as she passed you a mug of herbal tea.

As the mayhem went on, Mattheo settled back into the sofa, tugging your wrist closer to himself and sniffling the contents of your mug before taking a sip. He was perfectly happy to sit back and watch gifts be opened, to gather wrapping paper from your presents onto his lap and scrunch them up into balls.

Until one of the toddlers, Elliot, pulled out a gift from under the tree and flipped the label over. He struggled over it for a while, sounding out the sounds he could see written down. “Math..ee. Matt-ee-oo.” He mouthed around the word as Mattheo stiffened beside you. “Matthew.”

His head snapped up, looking straight to Mattheo as his mother corrected him softly, lowering her camera from filming him and pointing. Elliot carried the gift over, placing it into Mattheo’s hands, before dashing back to the tree to search for more gifts of his own.

Mattheo smoothed his fingers over the paper and ribbon, flipping the tag over to be sure, as if he didn’t quite believe it. Your handwriting neatly scrawled his name on the paper, and his eyes flickered up to you. “You did this?”

“Mhm. Open it.”

You pulled up your legs, tucking them underneath yourself and watching excitedly as he ran he tugged at the bow. Undoing the ribbon, he curled it up carefully, setting it aside next to his leg and flipping it over. Running his fingers over the edges, on the left side, they bumped along, and a smile cracked on his face. He repeated the motion, feeling more firmly through the wrapping. “Is this was I think it is?”

“Open it and find out.” You poked him with your toes, and he pushed his fingers under the folds of the paper, opening the seals and tearing it away from what was inside. He stared at it once it was free, fingers dusting across the ornate cover, flipping it open to look through the blank pages, to admire the paper quality.

“You got me a new sketchbook?”

“Hm. Not just any sketchbook, though. It’s an enchanted one. It’ll never run out of blank pages.” His jaw dropped, turning back to look at it.

“I’ve never— I didn’t even know such a thing existed. Where did you get it?”

“An art store, at Diagon Alley. I was just going to get you a regular one, but then I found this.” You shrugged, and his eyes were glistening when he looked up again.

“I love it. Thank you.” He clutched it to his chest, never looking away, not hiding his emotions this time even as his nose scrunched up a little and he sniffed. The busy noise and action went on around you both, but as he stretched on hand out to squeeze yours, it was like the two of you were all alone. Emotion clogged in your throat, your chest ached for him, such a visceral reaction to such a small gift. Tipping your head toward the tree, you laughed lightly. “There’s a couple more over there for you.”

“What?” His voice was shaky, glancing at the Christmas tree as some of the others gathered around it now, the children done and satisfied as they began to pay with all their new toys amongst the mess.

“Go on, go and get involved.” When he hesitated, a smile breaking free on his face, you encouraged him again, and he took a seat beside your mother by the tree, one more look back at you before beginning to search for the ones with his name on in the pile.

You opened and smiled at the gifts you were handed, grateful for them all as your family passed presents around, but you were distracted.

Distracted, watching the joy on Mattheo’s face as he opened another present, looking up at you as he opened a new set of colourful quills and chalks, the blush on his face when he unwrapped an ornament with ‘Baby Boy’s First Christmas’ written on. He glared at you with red cheeks, but held it carefully, and searched for a spot to hang it on the tree at your mother’s insistence. Distracted as you pulled out your phone, taking covert pictures of Mattheo with one of the biggest smiles you’d ever seen him wear.

He found another, settling it on his lap, his attention diverted as Jess’ son Aiden tugged at Mattheo’s sleeve, shoving a toy racecar into his face. Mattheo was polite, asking all kinds of questions, letting the boy run the car up and down his arm, and over his face, even as the small tyres went in his eye. When he finally grew bored of tangling the model Ferrari in Mattheo’s hair, he pointed at the gift still sitting in his lap.

Mattheo lifted it, showing it to him as Aiden slumped down across Mattheo’s shoulders lay across his back and tugging at the ribbon. He helped to open it, and while Mattheo’s face lit up, Aiden’s scrunched up, turning to glare at you on his new friend’s behalf.

“Ew, Auntie (Y/N), why did you get him a colouring book? Colouring books suck.”

Your laughter was hidden by Mattheo’s even as Jess scolded her son, and he stood, bringing it back over to you as his amusement died down. It was no ordinary book, it was a stress therapy colouring book, and by the way he was already flicking through the drawings inside, you could tell he liked it.

Stacking it on top of the sketchpad with his new quills and chalks. He reached for your mug, taking it from your hands and putting it down on the table by the sofa before tugging you up. Your body flew into his with the force of it, his arms wrapping around you tightly, and his face buried in your neck.

“Thank you.”

“Just a couple of gifts.” You smile, rubbing his back gently as he sank further into your touch, leaning his weight onto you. Your friendship group had already exchanged presents before leaving for the holidays, you’d done a Secret Santa exchange, and you’d given Blaise a new phone case and a basket full of chocolates.

“It’s so much more than that, stop playing it casual.” He muttered, words vibrating along your skin. With one final squeeze, he pulled back, the two of you dropping down onto the sofa, and you kicked your legs out across his lap comfortably. He reached for his new sketchpad, cracking open one of the new quills, a green one, and adjusting you. He propped your legs up on his lap to lean his book on, his head falling to your shoulder as his side pressed to your torso, and that oh-so-serious look took over his face once again as he began to sketch.

Sketching the Christmas tree.

Weaving your hand into his hair, you found yourself slipping back into that place where only you and he existed for a while, scratching lightly at his scalp and sitting still as he drew.

He stayed like that for a long while.

Long enough for the sun to start properly rising across the sky, and the Church bells on the horizon to start ringing. The children had rushed off to start a new game, and the group had dispersed through the house to keep up with their own activities. He’d long since finished his drawing, and was now lying quietly on your shoulder, your hand still in his hair, his eyes closed as he rested, mumbling responses to the conversation the two of you were barely carrying.

“I hate to disturb you two,” Your mother said, in a tone that suggested she very clearly did not hate to do such a thing, a grin on her face as she poked her head around the doorway, “But we’re about to start the baking. Did either of you wish to join us?”

Mattheo lifted his head, looking at you eagerly, and your hand slipped down to his shoulder as you pushed him upright again. “Go, make cookies.”

He stood, stretching out stiffened limbs. “Will you come too?”

You hadn't planned on it, much preferring to sit back and maybe take a nap. But, Mattheo was excited, and you’d long since decided that today was all about him. You could spare one Christmas to make him happy in ways he’d never forget. “Of course I will.”

He took on a happy look, and the two of you made your way to the kitchen side by side. Your mum left the doorway from where she ‘was not watching’, walking ahead. “So, what are we making?” Matt asked as the three of you joined the other few who had volunteered in the kitchen.

“We have brownies over here, cookies on the island, and apple pie being made on the table over there. Take your pick, sweetie.”

“Uh… cookies?”

“Perfect. You’ll work with me.” She took his arm by the elbow, pulling him towards the island in the centre of the room. You took over at the brownie station, washing your hands before joining in.

He put all of that polite, well-trained behaviour to good use as he chatted up a storm with your female relatives. They all loved him, laughing at his jokes and listening intently to his stories as he worked, barely aware of the attention that was on him as he stirred the bowl. Meanwhile, you spent the majority of the time trying to fight off all the little hands trying to reach up and snatch chunks of chocolate from the chopping boards, and stealing the bowls to lick.

You did, at least, manage to snap a picture of Mattheo with his cookie cutter before he spotted you.

The children were clamouring for the dishes by the end. You were elbow-deep in soapy water and washing, a tray of hot brownies and out, cookies cooling, and more batches already in the oven as several pies sat out waiting for later. Mattheo was talking to one of your older Aunts, charming her with boyish tales of him and Theo and Draco, when she took the brownie batter bowl out of a sprinting Aiden’s hands from where he had grabbed it and run.

He wailed loudly as his plot was foiled and she tutted at him. “Thieves don’t get treats, Aiden. You should’ve asked nicely. Only the nice boys get to lick the spoon.”

He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, and knowing better than to fight back. She then turned back to the conversation, and held it out to Mattheo. “Matt, dear, would you like it?”

“Me?” He was as astonished as Aiden, taking the bowl and the spoon slowly and bringing them close to himself. You’d told your family a little more than you let on to Matt. You’d told them just enough to know that he didn’t typically have a good Christmas, that one of your favourite times of the year was one of his worst, and you wanted to make that better for him today.

He picked up the spoon, licking the batter off happily, and crouching down with the bowl in his hands, holding it to Aiden. Swiping his finger through it, your nephew was pleased once again, and soon enough, Mattheo had a swarm of children hanging from him as he made the mistake of sharing something sugary.

When he finally emerged, notably sans bowl, he wandered over to you, dropping the spoon in the sink. His jaw dropped to speak to you, attention stolen by the tugging of a small hand on his sleeve. Mabel was peering up at him, holding his colour therapy book in her other hand, and lifting it up.

“Can I colour in’y’book w’you?” She mumbled quietly, and your heart burst in your chest as he slipped his hand down to take hers carefully.

“Of course.” He let himself be guided away, back to the living room with Mabel, and your head dropped, hiding the smile as you continued to wash up.

Jess leaned on the counter beside you, a cloth in her hands from where she’d helped with the rest of the cleanup, and you turned to look up at her.

“I like him. He’s sweet.”

“You should see the pranks he pulls at school, he’s a menace.” Your joke amused her, a low sound leaving her as she wiped at the counters around you both for excess flour.

“Yeah, but, I still think he’s a sweetheart. And he’s into you, that much is clear.”

“Don’t start with this,” You groan, drying off your hands as the last of the monumental amount of washing up was completed. “I told you, we’re friends.”

“Yeah, just friends.” She shrugged, “But just because that's all you are right now, doesn’t mean that’s all you’ll ever be, or all you want to be. I see the way you look at him. You like him.”

“He’s pretty. Every girl looks at him like that.”

“No,” She shook her head, and you couldn't bear to look at her as she read you like a book. Instead, you began prepping a new mug of hot chocolate. “You look a him like you think his soul is pretty, not just him.”

“Shut up.” Her poetic words made you blush, and she closed in on you, ready to make the final strike. “Don’t you dare—”

“You looove him. You got a big, fat crush on him.”

“I will push you off your broom myself.” Your scowl didn’t ward her away, she was only torn from smirking at you as your mother began to unload the next set of food to start being prepared for dinner. The turkey was already in, had been for hours, but she began to unstack pigs and blankets as trays of sausage meat stuffing onto the surface.

Swiping up the mug, you followed the rumbling of Mattheo’s deep voice through the house. Sat on the floor of the snug, Mabel was lying on her stomach by his side as she coloured as neatly as possible onto the first page of his colouring therapy books with her crayons. Aiden was under his arm, holding up the instruction manual of a new Lego set, as a half-built model sat in front of them.

Elliot was playing with some of Aiden’s toy cars, and eight-year-old Jessop was lying on the sofa, reading a book. Knocking two knuckles on the door, five heads all snapped up to look at you. Mattheo smiled as you stepped into the room, and Aiden grumbled at his distraction, going back to the Lego even as Mattheo pulled away.

You offered him the new cup of hot chocolate, and he smiled as he accepted it, taking a sip.

“You know the men are all gathered in the living room watching some movie about cars. They have a lot of beer, and an empty seat, if you want to join them.” You sang the words enticingly, hands on his hips as you swayed him to the beat of your melody.

“What will you be doing?” He stepped a little closer, free hand going to your waist, too.

“I’ll help my mum with the cooking.”

“Can’t I help you cook, instead?” His whisper brushed your cheek as he leaned into place a kiss there, and your heart stuttered in your chest, taking you a moment to recompose yourself as he pulled back with a smile.

“Of course you can… if that’s what you want, but you don’t have to. You’re here to have fun.”

“What makes you think I’m not having fun?” He mused, peering at you over the rim of the mug as he took a sip. “I’m having a ton of fun. Best Christmas ever, all thanks to you. I just want to be wherever you are today.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll be in the kitchen,” Your words are hardly audible as you say them, swallowing back the emotion in your throat as he held eye contact.

“I guess we will, sweetheart.”

You turn to walk away, Mattheo following behind you as you lead him back to the kitchen.

He was more than welcome once again, immersed straight into girl talk as your relatives grumbled and complained over their husbands. Mattheo put his suspiciously good rolling habits to use, wrapping sausages tightly in strips of bacon, and almost choking when your mother complimented his skills.

He tried to hug you with raw hands, chasing you around the kitchen until your mother scolded him playfully, calling him back and having him lift the meats from the oven to be re-basted.

He was chopping and peeling potatoes, nudging back and forth with his hip as you worked beside him, when your already-exhausted-looking Uncle Jeremy peered into the kitchen, Elliot dangling upside down from his shoulder.

“The film ended. We’re going to take the kids out for a walk and burn off some of this energy. Anyone want to join?”

He looked like he was desperately waiting for them to tire out so the drinking could start, Elliot climbing all over him like a playground frame and your mother shooed you both away. “You can go, c’mon. Go for a walk, let your grandparents and I have some time.”

The kitchen cleared out, shoes and coats and scarves were put on, and then you were all trudging out into the snow as your father shut the door, hands in his pockets as he followed you down the frozen garden path. Mattheo wore an old coat he’d borrowed from your father, zipped right up as he kept his chin tucked down inside it, hands buried in his pockets.

“Oh, don’t pout, Matty. You’ve had colder than this.”

“How did we end up out here? I was cosy inside five minutes ago.” He pressed his hands even tighter into the coat as you linked an arm through his, snuggling up to his side as you followed the others along toward the fields you’d roam across for a while.

“My mum does this every year. We always host, but she kicks everyone out so she can check on my grandparents, and take a break for herself. She’ll have a large glass of wine, sit down in front of the fire, and watch an episode of whatever her latest reality TV show is, before we all come back.” The grass crunched under your feet as you stepped out onto the frozen fields, glittering and icy as far as you could see. “It’ll help you work up an appetite for the meal, though.”

“Your mother nearly gave me a heart attack when she asked me where I learned to roll pigs in blankets like that for someone who’s ‘never cooked a day in his little life’.” He produced his hands to make air quotes around his words, and only tucked one back into his pocket. The other, he took yours with, lacing your fingers together, and rubbing his thumb over your own.

“I know. Your face was priceless. I actually got a picture of it.”

“If anyone ever sees that picture, I’ll hex you.”

“You mean it wasn’t okay for me to send it straight to the group chat? Oops.” He stuck out his tongue, but sighed, taking in the countryside around him as you walked through it.

“You grew up here?”

“Nice, isn’t it? You murmur, looking around and letting the nostalgia wash over you as your thumb wrestled with his absentmindedly. “There’s a river nearby. We used to go down there as kids, this big group of us who lived here. We’d have picnics, and wade in the water and play on the rope swing.”

“Sounds fun.” He sighed, and you squeezed his hand, no words to comfort him coming to mind. He’d had no such freedom in his childhood, you knew as much from the snippets he or Tom would accidentally drop before they could stop themselves. “Sometimes I would walk around the grounds of the estate, but we were only allowed out if it was dry so we wouldn't get dirty.”

Resting your chin on his shoulder, you hugged his arm, snuggling into him as much as you could while still ambling on behind your chatting family. “Oh, Matty…”

“Normally, I hate hearing that. The sad, pitying voices.” He murmured, before twisting to face you, the tips of your noses brushing. “But when it’s you, I kinda’ like it. You don’t feel condescending, you just feel caring.”

“That’s because I do care.”

“I know.” He smiled, turning to face forward once again, and you rested your cheek on his shoulder instead, making it easier to walk along, huddled into his side.

You remained in silence for a while, letting him soak it all in, pausing occasionally to take a picture or two of him looking at things. Even when he walked away, to pick up fallen pinecones, or to look at initials carved into a tree, he still came back every time, to where you patiently waisted, his hand finding yours or tucking you back under his arm each time.

You were in the middle of taking several photos of him petting a walker’s dog when your father stopped, hands on his hips as he stared up at the greying sky overhead.

“It’s going to start snowing.”

Mattheo’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he let the dog go, running to catch its owner. “How can you tell?”

The excitement was clear in his voice, standing up and brushing his gloveless hands off on his jeans. You snorted, he’d really done it now. “Dad has a sixth sense about these things.”

“You see, my boy, those clouds up there are called nimbostratus clouds.” He pointed upwards, hands on his hips as Mattheo adopted a similar stance, copying him and staring up at the sky. “They’ve been settling in all day, and now the sky is full. Not to mention, it just dropped a degree or two a minute ago. Now, it’s not that perceptible when it’s already this cold, but I’m good with temperatures, you know. And it always drops a degree or two right before it precipitates.”

“And, how do you know it’s snow, not just rain? Or do those kinds of clouds only make snow?”

You laughed again, linking your arm through Mattheo’s, and he twisted his head to press a kiss to your temple. He stiffened a moment later, just as you did, and you wondered if he realised what he’d done at all until after. He didn’t take it back, though. Instead, he relaxed a second later, still listening to your dad talk about how he just knows, can feel it in his bones when the snow comes.

“So, how many different types of clouds are there?” Mattheo asked after listening to the whole explanation.

That was how you spent the entire walk back getting to hear about all the different types of cloud formations. To his credit, Mattheo seemed to be genuinely soaking up every word your father said. He had questions, and opinions, which span off into a new chat about the water cycle and glaciers.

It was only when you were ten minutes out from home that your father’s prophecy came true, and snow began to fall in heavy flakes from the sky. The children squealed excitedly, and Mattheo caught the flakes in the palms of his hands, watching each one melt against his skin with a small smile on his lips.

Finally, as everyone stepped back into the warmth to shake off the snow, and stomp mud off of their boots, it was like a stampede to get to the fireplace and warm up. Shaking out his hands and flexing his fingers, you took your time unwinding your scarf, hanging it up with your coat and peeling off your gloves.

His cheeks, nose and hands were pink, and he was rubbing at his arms to warm up now that he’d taken off his coat.

“My hands are cold.”

“I can tell.” You took them in your own, rubbing his frozen skin lightly. His fingers trembled a little in your hold, chilled to the bone, and you lifted your cupped hands together to your face. Softly parting your hands, you blew warm air between them onto his skin, your cheeks flaring with warmth at the gasp he made.

Rubbing again, you repeated the actions until the shaking of his hands stopped, and you finally chanced a look up at him. He was staring down at you, eyes practically glittering and lips parted. He seemed lost for words for a moment, toying with the thoughts in his mind before finally settling. “I like it when you fuss over me.”

He took his hands back, tucking them faster than you could stop him under the back of your jumper, cold fingers splaying across your back as he tugged you into his body. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, cold nose dragging along your skin. No matter how much you groaned and wriggled, his grip was tight, chilling you with him as he stole your body heat.

Eventually, you just gave in, sighing as you stroked his back, letting him snuggle in for warmth rather than fight for a space next to the fire. Amongst the woodsy smell of his cologne, and the gingery pine scent of the Christmas candles your mum burned every year, something else lingered in the air.

Berries, citrus fruit, and spices.

“I think mum made mulled wine.” Your words were right beside his ear, and at that, he raised his head, scrunching his nose sweetly a couple of times before sniffling the air. “Want some?”

“I’ve never had any. Is it good?”

“Seriously? Matt!” Grabbing behind yourself for one of his hands, you hurried him through the house. Just as you’d suspected the morning’s tanker of hot chocolate had been swapped out, and now, a steaming vat of mulled wine replaced it.

Grabbing two glass mugs, you set them out, pouring some from the little tap, and passing it to him by the handle. The cinnamon and orange smell so much stronger in the air now, and you moaned under your breath as you breathed in the steam.

He held the mug in his hands, not even seeming to feel the heat seeping through as he blew on the surface, several times, before taking a tentative sip. You waited for his reaction, practically on the edge of your seat, if you’d had one.

“It’s…”

“It’s..?” You burst, waiting for his reply, and he dragged it out just to tease you.

“It’s really good.” He eventually caved, taking another sip, and another, as you cheered. “Don’t ever tell my boy Theo I said that. He’d skin me alive. He hates the idea of mulled wine and refuses to touch it. It’s an insult to his Italian heritage, he says.”

“So is cream in carbonara, breadsticks, and chicken mince lasagne.” You scoffed, and he grinned at that.

He drank some more, the two of you sipping quietly on your glasses, before hearing the opening tunes of a movie on the TV. Refilling your glasses, you headed through. The room was only half full, some sat about chatting in the dining room, others upstairs, and some likely in the snug or their bedrooms. It left you plenty of space to lie out across one of the couches, stretching happily, and your toes didn’t even reach the other end.

The kids were all gathered around on the carpet, and Mattheo paced slowly behind you, with no attention on his movements but all his attention fixed on the animations taking place on the screen. He sat next to your legs nudging them up into the cushions before twisting and leaning back, settling himself against you with his head on your shoulder, back to your chest, as he continued to watch.

He didn’t see your flushed cheeks or your shy surprise, not as you hid your face behind him from the watchful eyes of the few members of your family that were in here, too. Reaching for one of the rolled-up blankets along the back of the couch, you shook it out, spreading it over his body for an extra layer of warmth. He made a happy sound, shuffling back further into you, and letting the hand not holding his cup fall to clasp your calf by his hip, stroking slowly.

Your arms crossed over his chest, giving up on what little pretence you had. This day would already be one of your favourite memories that you made, you might as well give into the full depth of what you wanted, and really make it the best it could be. Whether anything came from it or not, you’d still have this moment, cuddling with him on the sofa as he watched The Snowman for the first time.

Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging out wind-tangled knots loosely, and playing with the curls around your fingers. You were oh-so-fond of Mattheo’s natural hair, dipping down to bury your nose in the strands, and kiss to top of his head. He squeezed your leg again, tipping his head back enough to leave a kiss brushed on your chin, before quickly looking back to the screen, and finishing off his mulled wine.

Your cheek rested where your lips had once been, glancing around the room. Most of your relatives only gave you a small smile, while your mother winked at you, and your dad offered a thumbs up. You merely rolled your eyes, thankful for the dark of the room and that they couldn't see your blush.

By the end of the movie, Mattheo was turning to you, abject horror evident on his face, as everyone else seemed to get on like normal. “He melted?”

“He’ll be back next year, don’t worry.” You smile, and Mattheo shook his head, brows furrowed, a deep ridge between them that showed just how bothered he was by the ending.

“But he melted! How is that— I thought this was a child’s movie!”

“It is!”

“That’s like killing the dog in a Christmas movie.” He stuttered, trying to keep his voice low despite his growing concern. You left a kiss on his forehead in an attempt to hide your amusement from him.

“Then you’re gonna’ hate The Snowman and The Snowdog.”

“Say sike. You say sike right now, or I’m getting in that floo and going home.” He pointed in the direction of the fireplace, and your laughter broke out, spilling into uncontrollable giggles. He was not pleased with your laughing, even if he did wrap you up into his arms, smothering your face into his bicep and grunting unhappily. “You cruel, cruel woman. Finding joy in my misery.”

That only made you laugh more.

The day was going by too quickly for your liking, it felt like all you did was blink, and you found yourself instead sitting at the dining room table, Mattheo on one side, your Uncle James, Grandma Alice and Grandpa William teamed up with you as you tried to count through the Premier League teams before the other teams.

Someone else hit the buzzer first, and you cursed in a very unladylike manner that made your Grandpa chuckle.

Mattheo wasn’t much help with general knowledge, but he was enthusiastic. He tried as much as he could to participate in the rounds, and whenever he did happen to get something right, the look that took over his features was enough to light the night sky. He’d cheer, and kiss your cheek, and scribble the answers down on the big answers sheet you’d been assigned.

It went on and on, only ending when the timer went off for the turkey, and raucous shouting took over from every adult as the quiz was cut short. Mattheo was laughing, loud, his arm looped around your waist as he nestled you into his side, immersed in the noise and hubbub. One of your cousins was adding up the scores, and you already knew you hadn't won, but hearing all of the scores being read, you cringed at just how badly your team had done.

Mattheo laughed into your hair, the other arm hooking around your shoulders to pull you into him more fully.

“That was more insane than a Common Room party.” He grinned, spoken close to your ear, and you laughed.

“Why do you think I’m so good at handling you lot when you’re drunk and rowdy, hm?”

“I have never seen anyone corral drunk Italians like you.” He pulled back enough to peer down at you, and you smiled.

The moment was snapped away from you both by the clearing of the quiz sheets away. The pens and markers were being gathered by Aiden, while Mabel followed him around with a basket for him to drop them into. Once the seats were clear, the settings all started to come back, and you watched as the room was transformed once again from a disaster zone and back into an elegant eating space. Cutlery went down after the plates, napkins and glasses and a cracker at each space.

Mattheo was called away to help carry in bottles of wine, filling each glass around the table while the parents began to get the children settled in at their small table in the corner. Meals had already been prepared for them, a small chicken carved up between them all, a couple of roasties and just enough veggies that there would be no tears on Christmas Day.

Then, the adult table was filling up, you carried bowls of food back and forth; several different kinds of vegetables, potatoes, meats and gravies, sides and stuffings up and down until the table was full from one end to the other.

When you finally sat down and tucked your napkin down to cover your lap, Mattheo settled in beside you. He was checking out every bowl, the dish of roast potatoes you’d mentioned being most excited for seemed to have conveniently found itself placed right in front of you both, and he smirked into his wine as you mentioned as much.

Your father stood at the head of the table by the turkey, ready to carve, and the room fell quiet as all attention moved to him. Save for the ecstatic chatter of the children, that is. Your father held the meat-fork in one hand and the knife in the other, pausing just over the top of the turkey. Looking back up, he pulled back.

“Mattheo,” The man beside you still as he placed his glass down, and all attention fell to him. “Come and carve for us.”

Mattheo’s stumbled response was adorable, and he untucked his chair when your father repeated himself. He walked slowly toward the head of the table, taking the instruments from your father’s hands. He paused, splotches of read coming back to his face, but before he could admit to being lost, your dad was guiding him on where to poke and how to slice.

As soon as the first slice fell out and he lifted it off, clapping and cheering sounded around the room, and you made sure you were the loudest, his proud smile directed at you as he looked right at you. “First slice for you, sweetheart?”

You passed your plate along, all the way to get the meat from where he stood, before it was passed back to you.

He kept going, slicing again and again until his wrist hurt, and he put down the knife and fork carefully. Stepping back for your father to take over, he clapped Mattheo on the shoulder. “Good job, son.”

It was spoken mindlessly, casually, as your father got back to work carving the meats, but it meant the world to Mattheo. His jaw dropped, and for a second he was frozen. You were almost worried he’d bolt, before he was speeding back over to the chair and took his seat beside you once again. He didn’t mention it, but he did let out a shaky breath, and took a heavy gulp of wine as his hands shook.

Your hand landed on his thigh, stroking lightly as he reached for the bowl of potatoes. “You okay, honey?”

“Never been better.” His tone sounded flat but you believed his words, watching as he dished up some potatoes onto your plate and his, picking out the ones that looked the best to give to you. “I carved a turkey.”

“And did a mighty fine job of it too.”

“You think?”

“Mhm. I’m very impressed.” You served up carrots and parsnips and Mattheo did mashed potatoes, dishes swapping about across the table, up and down until everyone had what they wanted.

In a blur of good talk and food, you set into polishing off the plate before you, watching Mattheo try each and every item.

“What’s normally on your Christmas Dinner?”

“Uh… well, father goes hunting with his business partners in the week leading up to Christmas, and normally he makes me and Tom go too. He’ll choose the best pheasant from the day, and that’s served. Along with a turkey, gammon, beef, lamb, and some kind of vegetarian wellington or roast.”

You watched him slice off a piece of his turkey, eyes rolling a little as he hummed happily, combining it with a piece of stuffing.

“All the usual trimmings, too, to put on a show. But we weren’t allowed to eat them. Mother only let us have things that could be considered elegant.”

A snort left you, and he smirked. “What exactly is considered an elegant Christmas dinner food?”

“Things that can be eaten with a fork. Meat, roast potatoes,” He chopped smoothly down the centre of a crispy roast potato, stabbing it in one smooth move and putting it neatly into his mouth. “Stuffing and sprouts. That’s about it.”

“That’s awful! What about the pigs in blankets?”

“Roll around too much when you try to chop them.” He shrugged, and you scoffed.

“So do sprouts?”

“Ah, but sprouts are a classic Christmas dish, and mother is nothing, if not traditionally elegant.” He made a show of chopping into a pig in a blanket now, savouring it as he ate it. “First time I ever had a Yorkshire pudding was second year, Tom took me to a pub in Hogsmeade. Changed my life.”

“Matty…”

“Don’t feel too bad for me, sweets.” Turning to you, he dipped a little closer, a smirk on his lips as his voice dropped. “If I didn’t have my sad, pathetic life to tell you all about, I wouldn't have a sob story to use to get a pretty girl to fawn over me.”

“Oh, please,” You muttered, shaking your head to hide your blush as you turned back to your meal. “Now you’re just flirting.”

“I’ve been flirting this whole time, you just never want to see it.”

Your eyes rolled at his smirk, and you twisted away, tuning back into the conversation going on around the table.

Mattheo loved his dinner. He ate everything on his plate, and at your relatives’ encouragement, he had seconds. Christmas crackers were popped, jokes were read and the little toys were exchanged around the table until everyone had a useless trinket they were happy with.

He proudly wore a bright green paper crown on his head, and forced you to wear the orange one that popped out of your cracker too.

By the time he was nibbling his way through a third plate, his hand was on your thigh, squeezing as he sat slumped in his seat. Jeans unbuttoned under his sweater, he patted at his stomach, content and full. You dipped another roast potato in a pool of gravy on your plate, dragging it through slowly. Lifting it, you took a bite, and he tipped his head, lips parting for the next bite.

You offered it to him, and he pulled the bite from the fork, chewing with a hum as he listened to the storytelling of the previous Christmas’ that was now taking place.

Before the food took you out into a food coma, your mother forced clean-up to take place. Bin bags were stuffed full, gifts were tidied away to respective cars and bedrooms, and the washing up was done, the table was cleared. When everyone put their minds to it, it didn’t take long, and you found Mattheo stacking the lad of the leftover tubs into the fridge.

“We’re going to put some more movies on, and drink mulled wine ‘til we get tipsy. You staying for that?”

“Wild horses couldn't drag me away.” Mattheo smiled, turning to you as your arms wrapped around one of his, guiding him back to the living room before all the seats had been taken. You sat down first, and he quickly found a home leaning on your chest once again, your arms crossed over his chest, and one of his hands laced with your own.

The other rubbed up and down your forearm slowly, getting himself comfortable as he groaned, spreading out as much as he could. “Did you eat too much?” You teased, and he pinched your arm, shaking his head.

“I will never be defeated by food.” Despite his claims, he shifted once again, lowering into the couch cousins. Wine was handed out, the lights turned down, and Love, Actually began to play. Clearly, Grandma Judie had chosen the movie.

That statement came to haunt him halfway through, though, when your mother arrived with a cheeseboard, handing out small plates, and pressing one into his hands. He was ever so polite, he’d never turn it down, and as she passed the box of crackers around to him, he piled three neatly onto the side of the plate.

“Take more than that, dear. Come on.” She encouraged, and you hid your face against the top of his head to hide your laughter, as he added another three. Then came the cheese, and you swore you could feel Mattheo’s hesitation as he added slices and cubes of various cheeses to his plate, all under your parent’s watchful gaze to make sure he was taking enough.

As he settled back, you brushed a kiss to his temple, and he tipped his face up towards you a little more. A smile was on his lips, the plate untouched and balanced in his lap.

“You sure you’re not being defeated?”

“Me? Never.” He grinned, lifting a cracker with a slice of mature cheddar on up to you. “I made sure to get enough for us both, don’t you worry.”

You didn’t have a chance to argue, the moment your mouth was open, he was forcing the savoury snack into your mouth, a wicked glint in his eye as you chewed slowly. Over mulled wine and cheese nibbles, the movie finished and another one began, this time chosen by one of your cousins. It was more upbeat, not a classic like the last had been, and there had almost been a row over it.

Classic, or new. Mattheo had sat back and watched in astonished amusement as comments were thrown around the room in an argument for which was better. Eventually, a coin was flipped, and half the room had to grumble and accept it as the other half sat smugly.

The night was fully upon you by now, darkness had taken over as the evening ticked by. The curtains were drawn, candles were lit, and both your sets of grandparents had called it a day and gone up to bed already. The babies had long since fallen asleep too, setting a kind of quiet and peace over the house.

Mattheo had gone still in your arms a long time ago, dozing between sleep and awake, finally having conceded after his second cracker and left the plate alone on the coffee table. You were sure he’d never admit it, though.

You were comfy and happy. With the weight of him pressing down against you, and the blanket you’d thrown over your bodies covering you both and keeping you snug, you were sure that this was what you’d call perfect.

The smell of spices and apples filled the house, your excitement renewing toward the end of the second movie as the time ticked on. Most of the children had fallen asleep, bowls of ice cream left on the kitchen counter from their own desserts, and long since tucked into bed to sleep.

Your Aunt got up to check the oven, and moments later she called to let you all know that the treats from earlier in the day had finished cooking. “Mattheo.” You nudged, excitement racing through you, and the man in your arms stirred a little. He grunted, rolling over slightly and gripping one of your arms a little more firmly. “Matt!”

“Not right now, sweetheart. M’ sleeping.” He muttered, huffing a heavy breath out, and you chuckled.

“You’re gonna’ miss dessert, though.”

That got his attention, one eye cracking open, quickly followed by another, and he sniffed at the air. “Smells good.”

“Mhm, so get up, and we can go and get some.”

Your family had already begun filing through to the kitchen, a new excitement surrounding the food as chatter took back up, laughter and new energy taking over. By the time you finally managed to join them, all of the various tray-bakes and puddings had been dug into, and you snatched up a plate to begin serving some to yourself. Some apple pie at one corner, some brownie at another, a scoop of ice cream in the idle, and a stack of cookies at the edge.

Mattheo shuffled in a few moments later, sleepy and stretching, trying to hold in a yawn as he looked around. Upon finding you, he made his way over, slumping down to rest his head on your shoulder as you plucked two mismatched spoons from what was left in the cutlery drawer.

Handing him one, he sighed, breaking off a large chunk of brownie and some ice-cream, before finally raising his head and eating the spoonful. With a groan, he told you just how good he thought it was, and went back in for more before even finishing his mouthful.

The two of you shared the plate between quiet chatter, talking about his day, as Mattheo recounted for you almost every moment. His eyes were sparkling as he got a second helping of brownie for you both, forcing his spoon between your lips when teased him for his excitement, and wiping the edge of your mouth when you glared at him. He was so light, bursting with a kind of happiness you rarely ever saw in him.

So much tended to weigh Mattheo down, so much of the time. He was a person who was burdened with struggles and troubles, and while he was exceptionally good at making the most of it, and finding silver linings, sometimes, it would eat away at him after too long. Darkness would crawl in at the edges, in the form of exhaustion and temper and emotional outbursts, and you’d find him staving off a panic attack with a cigarette between his lips, leg unable to keep from bouncing as he stood atop the astronomy tower.

He didn’t look hopeless and world-weary now, though. Right now he looked happy. Full of the kind of happiness that lit a person up from the inside out. He looked like he was at peace, even as he stood huddled with you in the corner of your kitchen eating a shared piece of brownie, while your family around you began to trickle out as the night went on.

Soon enough, even one more bite of sugar was too much, and you were slumped lazily back onto the couch. Mattheo was lying half across you as the last of your aunts and uncles quietly carried their snoozing children to the fireplace of the cars, ready to floo or drive home. Each and every one of them had bid him a goodbye, telling him how nice it was to meet him as he returned the sentiments with red cheeks and a bashful smile.

“I suppose it’s my turn to go now.” He mumbled, your fingers running once through his hair, and your mother poked her head out of the kitchen where she’d been chatting with your aunties who were staying, over a cup of tea. At least, you thought they’d been chatting, clearly, she’d been eavesdropping.

“Oh, Mattheo-dear, you’re not staying over? We thought you would.”

“You did?” He sat upright a little more, eyes wide, and your mother only nodded to him. “I’d like that… as long as I wouldn't be a burden to you.”

“A burden? ‘Course not, dear. You’re a treat to have, and an extra set of hands on Boxing Day is always handy.” She hummed, clearly pleased with her meddling as she disappeared. Mattheo accio’d for a notebook and a pen, sending a lazily scribbled note addressed to his housekeeper through the floo, to inform them of where he was staying for the night.

As he stood by the fireplace, folding the note and waiting for the flames to change colour, you wrapped your arms around him. Pressing your face between his shoulders, he sagged back into you, relaxing into your touch.

Orange flickered to green, and he tossed the note in, watching it disappear to ash in the flames in a split-second, before the warm glow was back.

“Come on, Matty. Let’s go upstairs.” You whispered, and he slipped a hand down to take one of yours from his stomach, lacing your fingers together. Lifting your hand up, he issued the back of it, before turning, and letting you guide him away upstairs.

You guided him through the house, the floorboards squeaking quietly under your feet in certain spots. “You can stay with me.” You murmured quietly, and he only nodded.

Opening up the door to your bedroom, his eyes immediately started flicking from one corner to the other, taking in every detail. It was fairly sparse these days, most of your most important possessions came to Hogwarts with you, and everything else, you’d had a big clear out of. Your skincare bottles were all lined up along the dresser, your laptop on the nightstand, and a few half-burned candles littered around.

One thing you always had, was candles.

Gathering the bottles you’d left out, you slipped away to the bathroom to get ready for bed before exhaustion took over.

When you returned, Mattheo was looking through the drawers of your wardrobe. “Searching for something, or just looking for all my dirty secrets?” You tease, and he jumped a little, but smiled as he turned to you.

“Where are your spare blankets?”

“Given out to all my cousins and relatives who are staying over. Why?” You pulled out a lighter from your nightstand drawer, moving from one candle to another and beginning to light them. He scratched at the back of his neck, and you raised a brow. “Matt, you’ll sleep in the bed, not the floor. Are you insane? It’s freezing, and uncomfortable.”

“I— Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You could never,” You murmur, flicking the flame out once they were all done. Most of your drawers were half-empty, and it didn’t take long for you to search through and find an oversized sleep shirt for him. Unfortunately, it was pink. “You want something else to sleep in? I can lend you a shirt, but I don’t have any shorts that would… suit you.”

A flush rose to your cheeks and you actively fought any kind of mental images from passing through your mind. Particularly any that involved Mattheo, and a pair of booty shorts.

He accepted the pink tee with a grin, stripping his jumper off and over his head. Folding it neatly and leaving it on your dresser, his t-shirt followed, and he donned the hot-pink band shirt with a half-faded Taylor Swift setlist on the back.

“Enzo would love this shirt.” He muttered, frowning at you as he admired the huge print of her across the front. Undoing his belt, you quickly diverted your gaze, turning back to the bed and tossing throw-cushions out of the way. You heard the rustle of denim, the clink of his belt as he folded it, and then the squeaky steps on the floor as he crossed the room.

“Do you want to watch a movie before we sleep, or are you—” Arms curled your waist, his face pressed into your neck, and your words stuttered off as he tugged you back into himself firmly. “Matty?”

He shuddered against you, and you turned in his arms despite his tight hold, cupping his face and forcing his eyes up to your own.

“Mattheo?”

“Thank you. For today, thank you so much.” He leaned in, a kiss on your cheek so soft you could barely feel it. Then another, and another, firmer as he worked, muttering his thanks between kisses all over your face, mumbling his appreciation. His voice cracked as he kissed your forehead, and he sniffled as he moved down to your other cheek. “This was one of the best days of my life, thank you.”

“Matty honey,” You pulled back, enough to see his face as his water-lined eyes shone gold in the flicker of the flames around the room. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I wanted you here. I was so happy to have you here, this was perhaps the best Christmas I’ve ever had, too. Watching you be so happy, making you this happy, it made it so. I love seeing you smile.”

He hiccuped a sob, nodding a little as your thumb swept over your cheek. He attempted to choke back tears, and you shushed him quietly. “I didn’t— I didn’t get you any presents, I’m sorry—”

“Mattheo, stop. Please, look at me. See how happy I am right now.” His eyes scanned over your face, fighting the battle against the tears wanting to spill over. He was clinging to your waist, hands bunching at the sleep shirt you wore as he tugged you in a little closer. “Please smile. That’s what I want you to get me for Christmas. I got snow, I got my family, I got to see you. Now let me see you smile.”

He sniffled through a laugh, the lines of worry etched onto his face finally smoothing out. He smiled, watery and weak, but he smiled, letting out a heavy sigh.

“There he is, my pretty boy.” You pinched his cheek, his head tipping a little further into your hold, his eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m in love with you.” The worst bubbled from him in uh a rush they almost blurred together, but his body finally sagged, like he was losing the very tension that even kept him upright Swaying forward, his forehead fell to settle on yours, like he was collapsing. “I’m so, so fucking in love with you, and I just had to tell you that. After today, after everything, I couldn't keep it to myself anymore.”

His nose nuzzled against your own as the words he’d said settled over you. “Oh, Mattheo. After all that I just said, you don’t know how I feel about you?”

“‘Course I do. Why do you think I finally had the courage to say it?” Tipping his head up, he kissed the tip of your nose, arms sliding properly around your waist.

“I love you, Mattheo.” You murmured, shifting up enough for your lips to brush his own, and he smiled against your lips.

“You are the best thing in my life, sweetheart.” His confession was followed by his mouth closing over your own. A kiss that emptied every part of your mind, you could only focus on him. The slow movements of his lips, drowning in the feel of him pressed up to you, mouths making slow motions as you crossed that line between friends and more.

He pulled back for a breath, and you chased after him. Your mouths collided once again, needy and desperate this time, his hand slipping up to tangle in your hair as the other slid low down your back. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling yourself up to a better angle as your heart pounded against your ribs, a steady drum beat to match the rhythm of your lips.

This time, when your mouth slid from his own, he left kisses dotted along your jaw, panting onto your skin but unable to stop. Only when he had kissed down to your neck, face buried in your hair, did he pause Hugging you close, his chest rose and fell as he moulded you to his body, fingers massaging against your scalp as his hand still resided in your hair.

Eventually, the two of you shifted to the bed, tucking yourselves snugly under the covers, wrapped around one another as you balanced the laptop on your lap, pulling up a movie.

“What are we watching?” He whispered, between lazy kisses along your jaw, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

“I was thinking Arthur Christmas. I think you’d like it.”

“Huh,” He murmured, pulling back as you turned up the volume and set it between you both. “Kinda’ sounds like Father Christmas, doesn’t it?”

You laughed against your will, taking his face in your hands and pulling him in for another kiss. “Godamnit, you’re cute.”

Suffice to say, he loved that one, too.

As fate would have it, Mattheo Riddle has a soft spot for animated Christmas movies.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle/reader #mattheo riddle/you #mattheo riddle x you #harry potter #slytherin boys #benjamin wadsworth x reader #benjamin wadsworth/reader

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jjmaybankshousekeeping · 4 months

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clingy - jj maybank

summary - jj and his girlfriend got into a huge argument. sometimes he needed space, but she couldn’t seem to grasp the idea of it at all.

warnings - mentions of trauma?, mentions of arguing, angst, crying, mentions of panic attacks. i think that’s it; lmk if there’s more.

a/n - this is bad. you were warned.

word counter - 563

post number - 5

reader - she/her, fem

they couldn’t even be around each other for longer than five minutes at the moment. yn thought it was the end of their relationship.

that’s how it usually went in her life.

all of her mums ex’s would break up with her after a big argument, just how they did with her aunt, just how yn’s ex’s did too. safe to say she never had a healthy relationship.

with these kinds of thoughts, yn was quick to gather jj’s belongings for him, not wanting to make their situation worse.

she collected his hair products, surfboard wax, hoodies, clothes, cd’s, any other bits and bobs of jj’s she could find and neatly shoved it all into a box.

she noticed something that also belonged to jj. the tickets from the first movie they went to. he paid for them, so they were his, right? but surely he wouldn’t want them. it finally clicked in yn’s head how many memories she was throwing away by giving his stuff back, but she knew she had to if they broke up. she held the tickets in her hand, looking at them with heartbreak in her eyes.

a tear slowly strolled down her face. not again. please not again, she begged. no more panic attacks. she had one already, picking up the hoodie of jj’s that she slept in every night. she managed to control her breaths, and quickly get herself together. she knew this had to happen.

she was quick to hop onto her motercycle and make her way to jj’s home.

she took a deep breath before building the courage to knock on the door. she got a quick, harsh response, with the door angrily flying open.

the man at the door rubbed his forehead, squinting his eyes in frustration, not even looking at who was there, “what do you want?”

“just to give your stuff back.” yn said softly.

jj looked up, “why?”

“cause we’re breaking up?” she hesitated, wondering why he was confused.

his jaw dropped slightly, “are you serious? i accidentally spilt ketchup on your dads old sweater and you’re breaking up with me? i get you’re mad; but it was an accident. why would i purposely spill ketchup on a dead man’s sweater? i’m not that fucked in the head.” the blonde went on a rant.

“what are you talking about? i don’t want this to happen, this is how it goes though.”

jj pulled yn inside, gently by the wrists, and sat her down on the couch.

“this is how what goes, babe?” he spoke softer, starting to understand what was happening.

“you argue, then you break up, then you go again, and again.”

he smiled, softly, “no, darling. no.”

“what?”

“that’s not what happens. you argue, you have time to think, then you talk, maybe someone apologises, then you let go, and pretend nothing happened. we don’t need to break up sweetheart.”

“really?”

“of course.”

she sighed, a sigh of relief, as she fell forwards into jj’s chests, a few tears sliding from her waterline, “thank goodness. my mum has really taught me wrong.”

“and all the other douche bags you’ve dated.”

“yeah.” yn chuckled.

“wait, when did you get this hoodie?” jj spotted, finding his old hoodie that went missing nearly a year ago, that he never found.

“never mind that, we’re okay again!” yn cheered, changing the subject.

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kissami · 3 months

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UN ÁNGEL- Cloud strife Headcanons

sum. Need boyfriend headcanons for cloud? SAY LESS.

warning: modern cloud, oc cloud srry I love him soft, might be a little self insert because of the stuff I like but that’s all

femreader! with she/her pronouns

song of the day: igual que un ángel - Kali uchis

boyfriend Cloud who knows your order by heart at your guys’ favorite coffee shop and no matter how many times he does it, it never fails to make you blush and impressed.

Boyfriend Cloud who never fails to make you ticklish especially during intimate moments that you can’t help but burst out laughing.

Boyfriend Cloud who sometimes can’t handle all the attention and affection so he distances himself but can’t help but miss you even more.

Boyfriend Cloud who loves picking you up from university on his motorcycle to show off especially knowing that Reno would be there. He is still very bitter that Reno was your first kiss in fifth grade and not him because he was too busy helping collect Tifa’s shopkins from the grass at recess.

Boyfriend Cloud who loves going to Aerith’s flower shop because he helps her make your bouquets extra pretty just for you. #bestfriendprivileges

boyfriend Cloud who has recurring nightmares of losing you to Sepiroth. No not the “I’ll steal your girl,” kind of way. More like he murders you and Aerith at the same time. Perhaps something from a past life?

Boyfriend Cloud who loves watching studio ghibli movies with you especially ponyo and spirited away. Let’s not get started on his love for Princess Mononoke.

Boyfriend Cloud who goes with you at the bookstore for now on to carry your books because he found out that a guy put his number inside of a book after catching it for you when you accidentally dropped it from your stack pile.

Boyfriend Cloud who’s COMPLETELY and UTTERLY obsessed with you. Not the annoying obsession, but the obsession that makes your tummy in knots and the cute things he loves to do for you. Whether it’s making you lunch for school/ work, leaving cute notes on your door handles, or literally dropping everything instantly for you when you call.

Boyfriend Cloud who hid in the bathroom after you guys had…yk…and too embarrassed to come out. If only he knew you were on the bed breathless and wanting more.

Boyfriend Cloud who baby trapped you. With a cat. Her names Honey and every time there’s an argument he uses her as an excuse to visit you. “We can’t let our cat have separated household problems,she needs both of her parents so please answer the door.”

Boyfriend Cloud who had no idea him getting a lip piercing would be in the way of kissing you for it to heal correctly. He ran out of the piercing shop and only agreed to come back to get a matching eyebrow piercing with you instead.

Boyfriend Cloud who not only made you a playlist, but this mf burned a cd for you, made tifa draw a one in a million piece of art for you for the cover, has a sticker of it on his car, and even bought a necklace that had the Spotify playlist code. So whenever a person flirts with him, he’ll hold it up and say, “scan this and read the description. That’ll be my answer for you.”

Boyfriend Cloud who didn’t understand why you were so obsessed with kpop, especially BTS. Him and jungkook have beef apparently. He also buys you albums all the time and even sacrifices himself to let you use his phone to make sure you guys get tickets to concerts.

Boyfriend Cloud who WILL call your work to call off. He doesn’t care, cuddles are more important.

Boyfriend Cloud who forces you to drink water whenever you hang. You always complain about headaches and he makes sure when you’re with him you’re hydrated.

Boyfriend Cloud who is addicted to Dr.Pepper. You gave him some when you two went to watch Barbie in the summer and it’s his holy grail. “We need to head to Costco, I ran out of my pepper.”

#kissami #x reader #final fantasy 7 #cloud strife x reader #cloud strife #cloudstrife #cloud strife x you #cloud x reader #ff7 cloud #final fantasy cloud #headcanon #bf headcanons #ff7 fanfic #ff7 fic #ff7 #final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy vii #final fantasy x reader

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asumofwords · 9 months

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The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Hello angels! Here is chapter two of my new mini-series! Was a lot of fun writing this, and am hoping to have a new chapter our every week if possible! I hope you enjoy <3

Chapter 2: Departure

Helaena stood at the door, two large duffel bags in her hands. Her hair was braided back away from her face, something you had begged for her to allow you to do early that morning before her flight. Her violet eyes looked around the apartment before landing back on you.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” She swallowed, eyes looking teary.

You stepped forward, cocking your head as you offered her a small smile, “Hey, hey, hey Miss Waterworks, not yet! We got to get you to the airport first before I let you cry.”

Helaena laughed and you reached out to grab one of her bags, grabbing your keys from the small hallway table dish. Helaena spun and pulled open the door, moving out of it with one bag in hand whilst you followed behind her, pulling the door behind you with a click.

“Is it locked?” She asked, watching as you tugged to make sure.

“Yes, mum.”

Helaena clicked her tongue at you before moving to go down the steps of the apartment. When you arrived at the bottom, you moved across the street to drop her bags into the trunk of your car.

“I’m going to miss our drives in this beast.” She sighed as she got into the front seat, rubbing the dashboard where an array of small, iridescent bug stickers sat, curtesy of the self proclaimed ‘Passenger Princess’.

“Hel, you’re making it sound as though you’re never coming back.” You pulled out of the parking spot and began to drive her to the airport, hand coming out to shuffle through the old 2000’s CD you had put in the stereo.

“Might as well be dead. I love mum, but she’s going to be more wound up than ever, especially with Nyra there.” Helaena leant her head against the window, looking out at the trees you past on the road.

“Well at least Baela and Rhaena will be with you. You haven’t seen your cousins in ages. Plus you’ll have Daeron with you too.” You smiled at her, quickly turning your head away from the wheel.

Helaena smiled back, hand reaching out to turn up the volume of ‘I’m like a Bird’ by Nelly Furtado.

“Yeah, I’m going to invite them to come visit us! Remember last time they came and we went out?”

Your lips pulled back into a grin, “And you got so wasted I had to carry you home on my back?” You snickered.

Your best friend grumbled, “Serves you right for ordering shots.”

You laughed loudly at the memory of Helaena stumbling about the club, singing so loudly that her voice the next day was crackled, and mascara stained her under eyes, "That wasn’t me, that was Bae!”

“Oh yeah.” She giggled.

The drive to the airport went fairly quickly as you sang side by side and talked about everything and nothing, and before you knew it, you were standing at the gate hugging Helaena for dear life as everyone around you boarded the plane.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” She cried, cheeks wet with tears.

“Aw Hel, you big softy. You will be back in no time! Plus we can FaceTime while you’re there.”

Helaena pulled back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, nodding at you as she sniffed. You leant forward a pressed a kiss against her forehead, “Now remember to call me if you need anything, okay? I will come if you need me.”

“Okay, I promise.” She readjusted the tiny beetle shaped bag on her shoulder and took a steadying breath, “I gave Aemond your number, so he will probably text you when he gets there, so remember to give him my key.” Helaena gave you a pleading face, “Please be nice to him. I know he can be quiet and standoffish, but he has a good heart. It hasn’t been easy fo-”

You grabbed Helaenas’ shoulders as you smiled at her, “Hel, breathe. I promise to be nice, and it will be totally fine! You just worry about your fam and I will take care of everything else, okay?”

Helaena nodded again before she pulled you in for one last hug. You squeezed her tightly, feeling your heart clench in your throat. You knew it would only be a month, but ever since you had become friends, you had been inseparable.

This would be the longest you would be away from each other.

You watched as Helaena boarded, waving at her as she passed through the gate down to the plane. You had to sniff your own tears back as you watched her silver hair disappear out of sight. Once she was on the plane, you made your way back to the car and drove yourself home, feeling the quiet around you immediately.

Helaena really was a solid rock in your life, and you hoped you were the same for her. She had been there for you through so many life milestones. Buying your first car, your first big break up with your douchebag ex, everything. And you wouldn’t have it any other way than at her side.

When you got back to the apartment, you parked your car and finally checked your phone. There was a text from Helaena saying she had wifi on the plane, and another from an unknown number.

Oh.

You got out of the car, flicking your hair behind your ears as you shut the door behind you, locking the doors with a click of the button. You looked up at the apartment block you and Helaena called home. It was an old art deco building that had been cheap to live in when you and Helaena first moved in, a little run down if you were honest, but beautiful nonetheless.

But now, the apartments were stupidly expensive, and yet your Landlord hadn’t once increased your rent. You wondered if it was because they knew who Helaena’s family was, old money and new, and one of the biggest and best lawyer firms in all of Westeros. But really, the Targaryens had their toes in many fields.

They owned vineyards that stretched over thousands of acres of their ancestral lands, realestate, restaurants, you name it. They owned something of worth, and their name held power.

You remembered when you first went to inspect the apartment. It was decently sized with tall ceilings, some of the paint was peeling, but once you and Helaena had moved in, you spent the first weekend painting the walls together. But the thing that had drawn you to it the most was the bath. It was hard to find an apartment in the city with one, and considering that the block was so old, it even still had the original tub and penny tiling floors.

You walked up the stairs, as you opened Helaena’s messages.

When you got to the top of the landing, Aemond was already there, waiting.

The silver haired man was leaning against the door boredly, looking down at his phone, a silver strand of hair falling over his eye. At the sound of your approach he straightened his posture and looked at you.

You had forgotten how tall he was. The Targaryen towered over you.

It had been a while since the last time you had seen him, and his hair was considerably longer, hair tucked behind his ears. His violet eye watched you as you gave him a small smile, the other clouded eye, unmoving.

“Hey.” You greeted, standing in front of him, fingers gripping the strap of your bag, unsure of whether to shake his hand or offer him a hug.

It felt awkward.

“Hi.” He responded quietly, eye searching your face.

Aemond wore black jeans and tight black top that stretched across his chest. Around his neck, hidden behind his shirt, was a small silver chain that dipped beneath. You remembered he had been wearing it the last time you saw him, Helaena said something about Valyrian steel? You couldn’t remember, but it was something that he clearly never took off. The smell of leather and smoke curled around the both of you as you looked down at his toned arms, a black leather jacket slung over one.

It was in that moment, as you took him in, that you realised something.

Aemond was handsome.

Gods, how had you forgotten he was handsome?

“You going to let me in?” He asked, tone flat.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your hand with the keys flicking up as you moved to open the door to the apartment. Aemond barely moved an inch to allow you to reach the door, and you had to utter a small ‘excuse me’ to him so he would shift and give you space.

You felt his eye on you as you opened the door and stepped through the apartment, Aemond bending down behind you to pick up a faded, green duffel bag that he had left on the floor while waiting for you.

“Welcome.” You smiled backwards at him, dropping your keys into their dish and fishing out Helaena’s from your pocket, “These are yours.”

Aemond grasped the keys, large keychains attached to them from grazing across the palm of your hand. They looked comical in his, what with all her keychains; bright blue butterflies, shining green and pink dragonflies, and a long pendant with your name beaded on it hanging from the tips of his fingers. Helaena and you had made them for each other on one of your infamous craft nights in.

Aemond nodded at you in thanks.

You moved through the apartment as he followed behind quietly, his height looming over you making you feel incredibly small.

“So,” You turned around looking at your roommates brother, “You’ll be in Helaena’s room.”

“Mm.”

Oh Gods, here we go.

“Um,” You looked around the lounge room trying to diffuse the sudden tension, “Did you need anything?”

“No.” He answered looking down at you, bag still in hand, "Thank you.”

“Right, well, Helaena’s room is on the left. Let me know if you need anything.”

Aemond nodded and walked down the hall, his large black boots beating against the wooden floor boards. You watched as he continued his way down to her room, opening the door and stepping inside. The door shut behind him with a soft click, and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and you looked down at it. You quickly typed a response to her back.

You huffed a laugh and went to sit in your room, putting away the pile of laundry that sat unfolded on the bed.

Aemond didn’t leave the room or make a sound after he went inside. He was as quiet as a mouse, just as you had remembered he was last time, and you felt that the next month would be spent with him existing in her room and you existing around him. It would most likely be awkward, though you didn’t mind, at least he wasn’t Aegon.

Aegon was nice, but he was also a sleaze. Trying to get into everyone and anyones pants. Even after you had told him you weren’t interested, he continued to flirt with you boldly, immediately giving you the fatal ick.

However, there was one thing you couldn’t deny about the Targaryens.

They were all stunningly attractive.

They all had the same piercing, violet eyes that only people of Valyrian decent had, as well as their shimmering silver, white hair. They were like sirens, luring anyone into their trap, and you had almost fallen for Aegon’s until he opened his mouth.

As the afternoon faded away and the night soon crept in, you reheated some of the pasta sauce that Helaena had made, adding a singular portion to the saucepan until you remembered that her brother was also here, and had not emerged from her room at all. Not to eat or got to the bathroom, or even get a glass of water. So with that thought, and the echoing ‘be nice’ in the back of your mind, you added a second portion to the saucepan and began to heat it up.

You put another pot of water in the sink and filled it with water to boil on the stove, putting some music on shuffle with your phone, and as you waited for it all to cook, you unloaded the dishwasher.

‘Freak’ by Lana Del Rey played loudly out of the speakers as you moved the cups and dishes back into the cupboard, the water on the stove coming to a boil. You put in the pasta and stirred the sauce a bit, adding some spoons of the pasta water into the sauce pan, just as your grandma had taught you.

“Baby if you wanna leave, come to California, be a freak like me too." You sang quietly, grabbing two bowls and forks for the both of you.

As you watched the water boil, the pasta cooking inside, you thought of what the next month was going to look like.

You wondered how Aemond would react if Cregan came over.

Would it be awkward?

You shook your head, it was your house, and Aemond was a grown man. You were sure that he wouldn’t mind.

And if he did, tough titties.

When the pasta was cooked, you strained it, separating it into the two bowls and pouring the sauce over the top. The smell of Helaena’s amazing sauce filling the space around you, making your mouth water.

“What are you making?” Aemond’s voice came from behind you, startling you.

“Gods be good.” You breathed, hand readjusting its grip on the saucepan as you scraped the last of bolognese into one of the bowls, “Bolognese, got a bowl here for you if you’re hungry. Helaena made it.”

Aemond moved from behind you, and as you turned to look at him, you noted that he was just in his jeans and shirt, shoes long gone. Thats how he had crept up on you. That or you were lost in your own world. You picked up the second bowl and moved to hand it to him.

As your eyes moved towards his face, you noticed that Aemond had tied his hair away from his face in a low bun and you felt your breath catch in your chest as he looked at you.

Oh.

“Thanks.” He grabbed the bowl and moved towards the dining table, steps silent as he crossed the room.

“No problem. Do you want a drink?” You asked across the room, opening the fridge, pulling out a soft drink for yourself.

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Water?”

A pause.

“Sure.”

You filled up a glass of water for him and moved towards the table, placing it in front of him on a coaster. Aemond sat with his hands in his lap, not beginning to eat yet, like he was waiting for you to sit down. Perhaps he was waiting for you. Helaena had told you that their mum was rather strict with etiquette and traditions, and you likened that this was a lesson from her.

You went back to grab your drink and pasta before sitting opposite him.

“You know,” You began, hoping to break the tense air around you, “You don’t have to eat at the table, we can sit on the couch if you want. Or you can eat in Hel’s room if that’s better for you.”

“Hm.” Aemond hummed, not easing your worries, before twisting his fork into the pasta, bringing it up to his lips to blow.

You ate in silence together.

It wasn’t uncomfortable in a way that you didn’t like each other, or that there was any bad blood, you just did not know anything about him, and he knew nothing about you. And he barely spoke. But beside that, Aemond was perfectly polite, if not a little stiff.

You thought that perhaps picking a random stranger from the train and bringing them home to have dinner would make for more easier conversation and be less awkward.

“Helaena cooked it,” You explained, trying to fill the room with something other than the sound of clinking cutlery, “Not me. I think it was to save us both cooking.” You laughed, twisting another forkful of pasta for yourself, you felt a great urge to get to know him a bit, after all you would be living together for a month, “Hel told me you’re thinking of moving back to Kings Landing.”

Aemond placed his fork back into the bowl, “I am.”

Short. Stiff.

No wriggle room.

No ‘yes, and’.

“Do you know where you would stay? Probably close to family right?”

Aemond was quiet, and you felt like you had stepped over a line. You suddenly remembered his strained relationship with everyone but his mother, but even then, that was somewhat difficult, or so Helaena had told you. You opened your mouth to apologise, but Aemond responded.

“Most likely. Might go back to uni and finish my degree.”

You blinked at him, “Oh? I didn’t know you were studying?”

“I was. But I deferred when I moved to Harrenhal.“ Aemond paused, staring at your face blankly. It made you wriggle in your seat, “I think it would be good to finish it.”

“I think it would be.” You agreed, “I’ve only got a year left until I graduate. God, I can’t wait until it’s over.” You smiled at him, having finished your dinner, “What were you studying?”

Aemond’s lips pursed as he looked at you, as though he would rather be talking about anything else, or more likely, not speaking at all, “I was doing a double degree. History and Philosophy, majoring in Politics.”

Your eyes widened in shock, “Oh damn. A double degree? How the hell did you manage that?”

One degree was hard enough, you couldn’t imagine juggling two.

Aemond let out a humourless huff, “What are you studying?”

You leant back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head sighing, “Similar to you, History, but I’m doing a little side Poetry class which I’m enjoying.”

Aemond hummed, “Poetry?”

“Yup.” You popped the p, suddenly feeling as though you were being interrogated in your own house. It set you on edge.

“Favourite poet?” Aemond asked, the question catching you off guard completely.

You blinked, thinking for a moment before you answered him, “Kafka.”

“Kafka?” Aemond replied, brows lifted, “A romantic.”

You cocked your head as you looked at him, “Kafka is a lot more than just a romantic. I think it would be disingenuous to put his work into a box.”

A smirk wound on Aemond’s lips as he hummed, the first time you had ever seen the man give something that wasn’t a frown or pout, and you felt your heart race in your chest.

“You’re right. Just was not expecting you to be a Kafka girl.”

Now you were offended, “What, did you think I would be more of a Sylvia Plath?”

“Nothing wrong with Sylvia Plath.”

“I know that.” You snipped, “Let me guess, you’re an Edgar Allen Poe.” You pointed at his all black apparel.

Aemond let out a sharp huff.

“Emily Dickinson.” He answered, lips pursed again. The way he was watching you, it looked like he was sizing you up.

You hated it.

“Hm. Favourite work?” You pressed, arms crossed across your chest as you looked at him.

You couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you or not.

“‘A great Hope fell.’”

You were surprised once again, “That’s not beating the Edgar Allen Poe allegations.” You paused in thought, tilting your head as you thought of the piece.

“‘A not admitting of the wound, Until it grew so wide, That all my Life had entered it, And there were troughs beside.’” You recounted a paragraph, feeling as though you had one-upped him for even knowing it, but in truth you had recently studied Emily in your Poetry class, and her work was fresh in your mind.

You wouldn’t tell him that though.

Aemond blinked at you with one eye, not showing at all that he was impressed that you knew his favourite poem off by heart, or even slightly surprised, which made you want to hit him over the head with your fork.

Dick.

“They are both amazing in their own right.” He stated as he stood, pulling his empty bowl towards him before he collected yours.

You thanked him, watching as Aemond moved to the kitchen and began to stack the bowls into the dishwasher without being asked.

Maybe those manners from Alicent weren't bad after all.

“Do you know where the linen closet is?” You called across the room.

Aemond nodded.

“Okay, I have work tomorrow so I won’t be home. You have your keys?”

Another nod.

“I’m going to watch some tv. Do you want to join?”

Aemond turned around and walked back towards you, “I’m going to bed.”

Your mouth felt dry, and a blanket of embarrassment curled around you.

“Ah, no worries.” So much for trying to make this easier, “Well, goodnight.” You gave him a curt smile and moved towards the couch, not waiting for his response as you got comfortable, turning on the telly to put your favourite show on to binge.

“Night.” Came Aemond’s smooth timbre from behind you, and not long after you heard the soft click of his door.

You grabbed your phone and checked to see that you had some new messages. The first from Helaena, she had sent you a photo of her in a car, having landed in Old Town, followed by five consecutive messages.

You smiled at your screen, typing back a response that there was no murder yet.

Yet.

You hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. But with Aemond’s quietness, and even the subtle stubborn and self assured manner that he carried himself with, you felt that perhaps things may come to a head one way or another.

Helaena had said the two of you were more alike than you know, but you just couldn’t see it. He was so quiet, and you weren’t. He was brooding, and you were forthcoming. He was a dick, and you were not.

Most of the time.

Flicking back to your notifications you spotted another message, finger tapping it to open.

It was Cregan.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Taglist:

@mrstargayen09 @iamavailablesstuff @malfoytargaryen @hogwarts1207 @diannnnsss @seni039 @qyburnsghost @lilitheal @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @loser-keiji @watercolorskyy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @toodlesxcuddles @kaelatargaryen @aemonds-fire @anitazut @melsunshine @persephonerinyes @hey-lucille @wintrr13 @arcielee @hueanhdang @coffedraven @happinessinthebeing @zairishmya @hanula18 @lovejustlovelythings-blog @

Bold is who I cannot tag

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 9 months

Text

Three Years Behind

Requested?: No/Yes

Notes: this sucks ass as it was spit out while I was in the car and was written in like 20 minutes

Description: after a one night stand with Bill Kaulitz, you thought nothing would be left behind. But something was. A small boy and girl, the children of Bill Kaulitz.

If someone had told you three years ago, at just seventeen you would become a teen mother to twins, a girl and a boy, you would've laughed in their face.

But three years ago you didn't expect to go to a Tokio Hotel concert. Three years ago you didn't expect to be taken on stage by Bill Kaulitz.

Three years ago you didn't expect to be taken back to a hotel room, much less expect what happened that night in those sheets.

Yet you didn't expect to be treated so nicely. So genuine only to be left behind in the dust when Bill and the band switched cities the next morning.

You also didn't expect to be staring down at a positive pregnancy test a month later.

Much less down at twins heads in the hospital at barely eighteen years old.

But you did it.

You were (Name) (Last Name). And you were the mother to the daughter and son to Bill Kaulitz.

You tried getting hold of him, but were sworn as a crazed fan girl who lied to catch his attention. You were broke, as most eighteen year olds were, and couldn't afford a meet and greet nor concert to talk to him.

It took three years, and your son and daughter had grown up in that time.

First steps, first words, first birthdays and everything.

You did good though, as well as you could. Your life went on, you raised your kids and almost gave up hope on Bill ever reaching your children

But what you least expected was to be standing in a plaza, hand in hand with your children as you walked through the grass to get to the playground.

You saw an almost crowd of people, band equipment and people crowding around the men dressed in black, a camera and so much more.

You didn't register what was happening until you stopped in your steps, your children looking up at you as you stared at a familiar head of black hair, accompanied by a smile you loved, smiling at fans as he signed autographs and CDs.

You couldn't help but stare, and almost as if he felt it, Bill looked up and around, finally making eye contact with you in almost three years.

It felt like the world stopped spinning.

But to Bill, he did too.

A genuine smile crossed his face, a toothy grin as he broke off from fans and went towards you, security keeping them at bay.

Bill walked to you, stopping just a few feet away, his smile never leaving.

Until he saw the two children hooked onto your hands.

Bill looked confused, between them to you for moments before he studied them.

You watched his face fall into widened eyes and a parted jaw dropped mouth, eyes flashing between you and them vigorously as he took in their features, blonde hair and similar smiles.

He finally looked back to you, adding it all up in his own mind of assumptions as you looked down, every rehearsed word flying out your brain as you stood frozen.

Tom came looking for his brother, smiling playfully as he hooked an arm around his brother's shoulder.

"Bill? Come on, we gotta go." Tom said before his voice faded into background noise for Bill, who was still stuck staring at you three.

Tom raised a brow, confused before he glanced at you. Tom knew you immediately.

From the speeches from Bill about the one he felt guilty about leaving. The one who couldn't leave his mind and who he hoped to see in the crowd.

The one who Bill wished he could go back for and ask you on a proper date.

Tom half smiled at you, almost in pride for his brother in his second chance, still confused on why his brother remained so still and wide eyed.

Tom finally looked down at the two kids, confusion even more evident as he looked between all of you.

Tom then studied the shocked look on Bill's face, the frozen on yours and the way the twins held onto your hands, looking up at you.

"Mom?" Your son mumbled out, tugging your hand in agitation as he wanted to go out of the hot sun.

You finally looked up at Bill, seeing the almost tears in his eyes out of shock, guilt and realization.

Tom's eyes almost blew wide, adding it all up as he looked between his niece and nephew.

"Holy shit."

Tom's voice faded away.

You never looked away from Bill after that

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

Taglist: @billsjum6ie @bigbootahjudy @ilovebill-and-gustav @r3dheadedw0rld @kiwitsune @novaaisstupid @billybabeskaulitz @yas-v @iischafer @dilfverz @ahswhore0 @graciegizmo3184 @sweetpuffy12 @80s-tingz @ryiana @yuriayato5 @bunnysenpai31 @banshailey @bellastoner420 @victryzvv9 @stxngnr @killed-kiss @stilesandjames @m00nzyblogs

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader

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tomssexdoll · 19 days

Note

hii can i request where the reader is dating either bill or tom ( they are also part of the band ) and they are signing autographs and a whole bunch of guys just start hitting on the reader and begging for her autograph and either bill or tom get jealous and shows the reader who they belong to 😏😏.

yess sounds so good! ty for the req love <3

Jealous jealous boy

PAIRINGS: Bill 2014 x Female reader CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT SYPNOSIS: Bill and Y/N have been dating for a year, she's in the band Tokio Hotel with him too and one day they are outside of one of their finished concerts signing autographs. A lot of the people there are girls but when you get to the end of the line suddenly a bunch of guys show up, begging her and her only for autographs, throwing gifts at her and saying provocative things. Bill gets super jealous and when they get home he shows her who she belongs to hehefbher A/N: this photo made me squirt!!! WARNINGS: dom!bill, reader!sub, rough fingering, eating out, sucking d, some degrading and praising

It was 2am, we had just finished one of our concerts and outside a swarm of fans were waiting. I looked outside and groaned, trying to prepare myself for all the flashing and screaming fans, don't get me wrong I loved our fans but oh my god I was so tired.

I took a deep breath in and held Bills hand, going over to the fans behind the baricades, basically trying to climb over. I smiled and greeted everyone, signing arms, papers, albums, cds, chests, etc.

I accepted some gifts, hugged some fans and said hello to their camera. A lot of Tom's fans were BRUTAL, they threw bras at him, used underwear and even wedding rings, I chuckled and moved along the line.

Eventually we got to the end of the line and I noticed it wasn't a bunch of sweaty teenage girls, but a group of men and teenage boys. I sighed and prepared for the worst, they were all screaming my name and begged for my autograph only, the others backed away as I signed so many cds, albums and hairy chests. They were screaming how sexy I was and how they wished I was in their bed, it disgusted me but I didn't make a scene.

Some threw gifts at me, some handed them to me. A lot of the gifts were teddy bears, chocolate, used underwear and perfumes. I collected a total of 20 gift bags, waving to everyone and smiling.

I turned around and saw Bill, he was angry, really angry. So angry that his face was bright red, he could've had steam coming out of his ears, a vein was showing on his forehead, I knew I was in deep trouble.

I sighed and prayed to god that I would be able to walk tomorrow.

As we got into the car I felt the tension, Bills hand on my thigh, gripping so tightly I could feel the circulation cut in my leg. He leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear, "when we get to the hotel, be fucking prepared, i'll show you who you belong to" I whimpered softly at his threat and nodded softly. Worry washed over me, was my pussy gonna fall off because with his anger it seemed like it was going to.

Getting closer to the hotel only made me more nervous, my heart beating fast and my hands getting sweaty, Bill started to kiss my neck roughly, biting softly.

"Not now.." I pulled away, muttering to him, he grunted and sat back, his chest heaving up and down. As we got to the hotel we all went into Gustavs room, we all unpacked our gifts, I laughed at all the cards and gifts. I opened the last 5 and gagged as I saw used condoms and love letters.

Bill grabbed them and threw them across the room, grabbing my wrist and dragging me into our room we shared together, throwing me onto the bed roughly.

The guys looked at each other, worried and confused.

"Bill, what the fuck?" I yelled, he grabbed me roughly "you are mine" growling lowly, he ripped my clothes off, like literally. I was stunned, my eyes wide with shock. He has completely changed, Bill was jealous of course but i have NEVER seen him this jealous, it kind of scared me.

"Bill..calm down.." I whispered softly, his eyes darted to mine, flashes of rage in them. "Shut up.." he snarled, pulling my hips close to his and ripping my panties off. He leaned down and laugh my lips in a rough and urgent kiss, I kissed him back, not being able to keep up with him.

"Mine..all mine.." he grunted, pulling his pants down. His cock pulsating in his boxers, a slight hint of pre cum on the front of it as it practically begged to be released from its confines.

I whined as he pulled it out, it stood perfectly, so red and wet. It's like his cock was angry too. "Get on your fucking knees" he demanded, I instantly obeyed and got down onto my knees, grabbing his cock with one hand and opening my mouth, getting ready to suck it.

He stopped me and grabbed my chin to look up at him, "don't" he muttered, I felt his hand snake around the sides of my head, grabbing my hair and shoving his cock deep in my throat.

I choked and gagged as it reached the end, hitting the back of my throat cruely. "Fucking take it all" he groaned, thrusting his cock in and out at a rough pace. Tears fell down my cheeks as he fucked my mouth, saliva building up around my mouth.

"Mmmh!" I whimpered, his pace quickening "too..much..!" I muttered on his cock, he grunted and slammed himself into me harder "i don't care! take it, fuck!"

I felt the tension building in him, he grunted, squelching sounds coming from my mouth as his cock pushed the saliva in and out constantly. With one last thrust he shot his thick seed into my mouth, ropes of cum coating my throat, he held my head as his high faltered out, slowly pulling out. A long string of cum and saliva following from my mouth.

"Swallow, now" he tapped my chin, I nodded and swallowed, opening my mouth and showing him my tongue, he chuckled and picked me up, throwing me back onto the bed.

I watched as he stood over me, his hands caressing my cheeks softly. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well, how about you take my fingers too, hm?" he tilted his head, I sighed and nodded, crawling back onto the bed and shakily spreading my legs.

He groaned at the sight of my wet pussy, dripping and ready for him. He dipped 2 fingers into my wetness, my soaking cunt wrapping around his fingers as he slid in. I moaned softly "Bill..fuck.." closing my eyes tightly as he curled his fingers against my sweet spot.

"Mm, good isn't it, how about I add another finger baby?" he smirked, my eyes shot open and I whimpered "but.." before I could stall him he snuck a third finger in, roughly fingering my hole.

I cried out as my pussy adjusted to the amount of fingers I had in my pussy, yeah his cock was the same size but fuck this hurt way more. He kissed my thighs softly, trying to distract me from the pain as his pace got harsher.

"Take it baby..cmon.." he stretched me out, the pain weirdly pleasuring. I groaned and held onto his shoulder, gripping them tightly, nail marks forming.

I felt a knot forming in my stomach, trailing down to my heat. My clit throbbed, desperate for attention. Bill noticed my aching clit and latched his lips onto them, sucking roughly, licking the sensitive bud.

I moaned loudly, gripping his hair roughly as his tongue flicked my clit harshly, intense pleasure waves circling throughout my body. "G'nna cum! Fuck!" he smirked and licked faster, slobbering all over my clit. "Such a shame I couldn't fill your pussy with my cum.." he muttered against my pussy.

My pussy tightly clenched around his fingers as my orgasm quickly approached, threatening to come at any moment. "Cum for me baby..all over my fingers.." he grunted lowly, his dark eyes looking up at mine, I nodded and moaned loudly as my orgasm crashed down, coating my juices all over his fingers.

He pulled out softly, licking up all the cum from my pussy first, not wasting a single drop, then moving to his fingers, sucking all the cum off. He stood up and pulled me up, pushing his fingers to my mouth, I opened as he stuck his fingers down my throat, sucking on them graciously, grimacing slightly as I tasted myself on his fingers.

He layed down in the bed and grabbed me, dragging me over to him and wrapping his arms around my small frame, kissing the top of my head. "Such a good girl for me.." he muttered, I smiled at his praise and eventually drifted off to sleep, tired from every event that took place today.

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whumpsday · 10 months

Text

Kane & Jim #52: Trust

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: kidnapping, rescue, comfort, vampire whumpee / caretaker / whumper, whumper turned whumpee turned caretaker, caretaker turned whumpee, begging, humans as livestock, mild classism?

Whumpmas in July Day 12: Search & Rescue

here it is! i've been trying to write this one since literally april, sorry it took so long. i imagine the present arc as divided into 3 parts.

this is the finale of part 1!

It had been six months since Jim brought him home, and Kane was fully on a human schedule. He'd gotten into human music as well, with Jim bringing home new CDs for him on a regular basis. He liked to listen to them before bed, after Jim had locked him back downstairs and the sun had set. He would take notes on the music, his hand no longer shaking with weakness. And when he was done and the basement he'd come to think of as home was silent again, he would drift off to sleep. Plagued often with nightmares, but he always knew that he'd wake up safe and unharmed.

A quiet, peaceful life. Kane got a shallow bowl of fresh blood each day, Jim never hurt him, and he had his own little space with possessions of both need and want. He didn't care that he was a prisoner, that the now-fixed door bolted shut each night, that he was made to wear chains upstairs, that he couldn't leave if he wanted to. He was safe. He was happy, something he never thought he would be again.

So it was all the more worrying when his quiet night was interrupted by the screech of tires and the sound of someone's frantic struggling with the front door.

Kane got up from his desk and went to bed immediately, wrapping himself up in his blanket as his mind raced with possibilities. The hunters, always his first fear. It made no sense, they'd handed him over to Jim willingly, but he couldn't stop picturing it. His tormentors coming to snatch him away from his new, peaceful life, where he didn't hurt anybody and nobody hurt him, bringing him back to that horrible place where there was only pain. He shuddered at the thought.

The front door clicked open upstairs, the right key finally inserted. "Jim!" Liz's familiar voice cried.

Kane allowed himself to relax, somewhat. Yes, a hunter, but one who he knew by now wouldn't hurt him without cause. He could never bring himself to feel fully comfortable around her, but she hadn't harmed him yet. And if he kept being good, maybe she wouldn't ever.

Jim's footsteps came quickly, and though Kane couldn't make out the exact words of their conversation after Liz's initial shout, he could tell it wasn't good. She was crying, he was pretty sure.

Kane slowly got out of bed, concerned. Something was wrong, that much was obvious, but he was locked in the basement, and there was nothing he could do. He crept over to the stairs, but didn't climb them, unwilling to get closer to the silver door.

"They took Laken!" Liz sobbed. "They're gone!"

Kane felt his heart drop into his stomach. There was only one thing Liz could have meant by that, only one they she could have been talking about. The relief he would always feel when one of the more sadistic hunters never came back, his gratitude that vampire hunting was such a dangerous job, come back twisted and cruel. The kindest hunter he'd ever met had been taken.

He imagined Laken, always sweet and friendly, Laken who fed him with their own blood as his birthday present, alone and scared and in pain. Shipped off to the blood farms, or kept as someone's personal blood source, their mind stolen from them over and over until persuasion erased their warm, loving personality entirely.

Tears sprung to his eyes at the thought. He couldn't breathe all of a sudden, Liz's sobs perfectly encapsulating his own roaring despair. His head fell into his hands as he cried along with her, sitting on the bottom step. Laken was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Wasn't there?

Kane picked his tear-streaked face up as the gears started to turn. He stood and knocked on the wall, unable to touch the door itself. "Hello?"

"Kane, man, just- not right now, okay? Go back to bed," Jim called, voice choked up.

A direct order. Jim hardly ever gave those. Kane scurried obediently back to bed, listening to the humans cry.

It was only a few minutes before he got back up. He was defying orders, now. He hadn't defied orders in years, hadn't ever defied one of Jim's, not since coming here. His legs felt like gel, his hands shaking at the prospect. But he had to.

He knocked on the wall again. "Jim?" he asked, wincing preemptively.

The door flew open, revealing Liz: bleeding from a wound on her jaw, her eyes red and puffy from crying, glaring down at him with unrepentant disdain. Stakes and nasty silver weapons still hung from her belt.

"What? What could you possibly want?" she snapped, her voice breaking.

Kane took a few steps back, heart pounding as he stared at her weapons. He'd disobeyed, and now the hunter was angry with him. He knew all-too-well that hunters always got more sadistic after they'd lost one of their own to his kind.

"I- I'm sorry, never mind," he backtracked, cowering away from her.

Jim peered over from behind his sister, wiping his face. "Lizzie-"

Liz paid him no mind, stomping down the stairs. "What? What is so important right now?" she demanded through tears.

Kane felt sick with panic, his safe haven suddenly horribly unsafe. He'd been doing so well, and now it would all be over, pain introduced back into his life. He bumped back against the wall, no more space for him to put between himself and the hunter.

"No, no, please!" he begged, holding his hands up defensively. "I'm sorry! I'll stop, please don't hurt me!"

"Liz?" Jim came down after her, arms wrapped around himself, looking haunted.

She kept her attention squarely on Kane. "No. I want to know. What?"

He should just make something up, he really should.

But Laken.

"I had an idea." He drew out each word as if to stall, his voice barely above a whisper.

Liz's voice came deadpan, devoid of anything besides resentment. "An idea."

Kane couldn't bear to look at her. He looked past, at Jim. Jim who had never hurt him, who had assured him over and over again that he was safe here. "I could- if you allow it, I could go over and try to bring Laken back?" he squeaked.

Liz pounded her fist against the wall next to him, making Kane yelp and duck for cover. Jim winced at the sound.

"Are you fucking serious!?" she shouted, her features contorted with fury. "Now? You're using this to try and escape, now of all times? What, so you can go join the party and take a human too?"

He cowered on the floor, breaths coming quick, like he couldn't get enough air. He knew this would be a mistake. "N-no, that's not what I meant! I'm sorry!"

Jim approached slowly, stepping past his sister despite his apparent fear. "Kane, you can get up. It's okay," he said softly, eyes distant.

"It's not okay! Nothing is fucking okay!" Liz screamed. She kicked the desk hard, and both men flinched. She sobbed and kicked it again, shaking.

Jim uncurled his arms from himself. "Kane. Look at me."

Another direct order. Kane looked up.

He had never seen Jim so serious. "Do you really mean it?"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up, I really didn't mean anything bad by it, I'll-"

"Did you mean it?" Jim repeated. "You could get them back?"

Kane knew he should be begging for mercy right now. The last thing he should do was double down. But... it was Jim. Jim was safe.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I would need more information." He glanced briefly at Liz, still sobbing brokenly, before looking back to Jim. "I'd need at least a description of who took them. I'm sorry. Please- I was just trying to help." He wrung his hands anxiously. "I care about Laken, too."

Jim stared at him long and hard. "I've really tried to help you, you know that, right? Make life here not suck."

"I know." It was the one constant in Kane's new life. Even when he got scared and panicked, he knew Jim would make it better, help him calm down. "I would do anything to make it up to you. If you let me go- I would try my best to find them, and I'd come back either way. I'd go back down in the basement and you could still keep me here. I don't mind. I like it here. Please, I swear I'll come back." He stood up. "Please let me help."

Liz was paying attention again, but the fury had faded. "What's in it for you?"

"I just want to help." Kane had nothing more than that. He had no way to prove himself. All he had was his word, and given what he'd done, his hopes that they would believe it were slim.

The Liebermans shared a glance.

"I think he really means it," Jim offered.

Kane couldn't believe this was happening. Jim actually believed him.

Liz sighed wearily. "It was two of 'em. They were wearing the same clothes, like a uniform."

"Blood farms," Kane realized. That was good- it would be a lot easier to get them from one of those than someone's house, and there would be a lot fewer places to check. "I mean- a blood processing facility. I can find them. There's only so many of them nearby."

That broke her. For once, Liz looked at him with something other than poorly disguised hatred or the bare minimum of tolerance- she looked hopeful. "Please bring them back to me. I can't lose them," she pleaded.

It was surreal. A hunter had never begged him for anything before.

"I will," he promised. "Jim, could I borrow a suit?"

Kane was ready. Jim only had one suit, and it didn't fit him quite right: Jim was a few inches taller than him, and while Kane had made a lot of progress in the past five months, he still hadn't completely recovered from his years of starvation. But it would have to do. He looked more like his old self than he ever had, now.

He stepped into the front doorframe. He was outside, at night, fully fed and able to run. He'd never thought this would happen again.

"I'll see you soon. With Laken," he promised, determined. He put his hand forward.

Jim nodded. "Alright. You just- yeah." He shook Kane's hand, like they were making a deal, one Kane would be sure to honor. "Stay safe out there."

"I radioed base and let them know what's going on, so you shouldn't run into trouble with any hunters as long as you stay in our district on the way to the border," Liz added. "Straight shot."

The thought that every hunter in a 100-mile radius knew where he was and what he was doing was horrifying, but this meant he had permission. This was safer, he told himself. "Thank you."

And with that, he ran off into the night.

Kane hadn't run like this in years, hadn't even been physically able to until recently. There were no chains binding his ankles, not the hunters' cruel burning ones or Jim's soft padded ones. There was no weight of starvation sucking the muscle out of his body and the energy out of his stride. He ran faster and faster, and he would have laughed gleefully into the cool October air if he weren't so worried about Laken. Even the fact of being free brought fear- Jim wasn't here to protect him if something happened.

Despite his nerves, he crossed into vampire territory without issue. Like it was easy. Like it wasn't something that had been an unattainable fantasy just months ago.

It was only about two hours before he made his way to civilization. He slowed as he got to town, got to people- it was the middle of the night, and the streets were full of vampires, like him. He didn't have to hide. He didn't have to be afraid. He stopped for a few minutes and just watched, mesmerized. He hadn't seen more than Jim, Liz, and Laken since Jim rescued him, hadn't seen another vampire in so long-

"Doesn't that guy look like Kane de Sang?" a woman whispered to her friend, a hand shielding her mouth like that would prevent her from being heard.

"Stop reading tabloids. He's dead," her friend reminded her with a roll of her eyes.

Right. Father was a very public figure, his death must have made the news. He couldn't deal with this right now. He had to find Laken.

Kane hustled away. He almost went into a store to buy a map, before he remembered that he had no money. It was a strange feeling, not having any money, one he'd never experienced before. Technically he hadn't had any money since his capture, but he hadn't been in a position to buy anything either, so it hadn't come up. But now, he really could use some.

His bank accounts would be closed, of course. Not only did he have no money, he had no ID. He felt like one of those older vampires who complained that everything required paperwork these days, like Father.

That was one way he could solve things, he supposed. He could go home to Father. The thought of confronting him with the fact that he'd been held captive by humans all this time was unbelievably unappealing, but he would of course do it if that would help him save Laken. Though, his father would surely put a stop to any plans for him to take a human from the blood farms, no matter what excuse he used, naming it an embarrassment to the family. Nobles were supposed to catch their own prey, demonstrate their superiority.

But those women had mentioned a tabloid. That would mean his face was known, wouldn't it?

Kane ran a hand over his cheek, hardly even sunken anymore.

He was Kane de Sang. He just had to act like it.

It took him a while to find the closest blood farm, the one most likely to have Laken, but he found himself there eventually. He strutted in like he owned the place. Confident and assured, everything he used to be and wasn't anymore.

The blood processing facility was not a customer service establishment, and there was no obvious place to go to find someone to talk to. He approached a man carrying buckets of human food, foul-smelling as always. Cereal, he was able to recognize one as, after months of sitting with Jim as he ate his meals. The other contained some sort of organ meat he couldn't place, aside from the fact that it thankfully didn't smell human. Jim didn't eat meat anymore, said he'd stopped sometime after his escape.

"Excuse me, I need to speak to a manager?" His first words to another vampire in years.

The man eyed him up and down. "Yeah, place is too spread out for you business-types. They really should put some signs up. Follow me."

"Thank you." He definitely wasn't acting like his old self. The old Kane de Sang wasn't polite to commoners. But after years of having politeness drilled into him, it was hard to stop, and he saw no reason to.

The man took him to an office, Kane thanked him again, and it was over. He wanted to take the man's hands and weep, tell him how he was the first vampire he'd spoken to in years upon years, but he couldn't do that. He just watched him walk away to deliver the food to captive humans.

Right. Captive. Everyone in this place was keeping defenseless humans captive. They'd likely taken Laken, and even if they hadn't and Laken was at a different facility, they'd taken so many more.

He knocked on the office door twice before pushing it open. A normal office, an environment Kane was more familiar with.

"Hm?" An older man, clearly a manager, looked up from his desk.

"Ah, yes, I'd been told you're the manager? Kane de Sang," he introduced himself.

The manager raised an eyebrow. "Like the dead noble?"

"Like the living noble," Kane corrected. "I've been living off the grid, as they say."

The manager squinted at him, shock slowly dawning on his face. Perfect: he was recognizable enough to be believed. He wouldn't have to involve Father.

"I see. And what can I do for you, Mr. de Sang?"

"I believe a couple of your employees accidentally snatched up my escaped human." It was a lie that would have been completely unbelievable for anyone else except for him, given his lack of persuasion. "It wouldn't be hard to find mine, one with blue hair, just brought in earlier tonight?" It was possible that Laken could be at a different facility, but this one was so close to where they'd been captured that Kane was almost certain it was this one.

"I'm afraid I can't help you, Mr. de Sang," the manager said. "All of our humans are sourced directly from human territory. If you lost track of your human so much that it was willing to make it back there... well, a human belongs to whoever's taken it over the border."

There was no way a commoner would speak like that to any other noble besides him. The old anger rose up in him, like being back in vampire territory had allowed his old self to come crawling out of where Kane had buried him. He almost went to push away the bubbling rage, but...

He didn't need to anymore. He wasn't in danger. He was in vampire territory, and this man was keeping Laken away from him. Keeping Laken captive, hurt and scared-

Kane slammed his hand on the desk. "You will return my human at once!" he shouted.

He winced at his own outburst, visions of punishments flashing through his mind, eyes wild with fury and terror. Still, he did not stop. "Or I will do everything in my power to ruin you, through means legal or otherwise. I am not leaving without my human."

The manager seemed to mull over the idea before deciding that dealing with Kane was far more irritating than losing one human. He sighed, standing up. "Very well. Follow me."

Kane pulled his hand back, trembling. He should be punished for that. The hunters would have a field day with him if they knew how he'd acted out. Though, he doubted they'd care that he was disrespectful toward a fellow vampire.

"Yes, sir," he said on instinct.

The manager didn't seem to take it as unordinary, nodding and leading him to where the humans were stored. Kane followed along, bewildered it'd been that easy. They passed hundreds and hundreds of humans with dazed eyes and gone minds, packed into livestock pens. He was just glad they were too far-gone from persuasion exposure to feel anything at all.

Past that were closed rooms. Kane could hear someone shouting expletives behind one of the doors, like he had when he'd first been captured, and someone crying behind another, like him in all the years after. But he couldn't do anything about that: he had to focus on Laken.

"We keep the new captures in isolation," the manager explained, briefly peeking through small peepholes in the doors.

Kane remembered how Jim was when he first brought him home, a defiant teenager who hadn't yet learned fear. "That makes sense."

At last, the manager stopped in front of one of the doors, satisfied with what he'd seen through the peephole. "Blue hair, brand-new capture. This one was reported as a hunter, though, so probably not yours. I can-"

Kane practically leapt at the doorknob. "No, this one's mine! This is my human, you must be mistaken! Open the door!"

The manager sighed again, but obliged, unlocking it.

And there they were.

Laken sat huddled in the corner inside, just like Kane had been in his cell, stripped of their hunting tools. They were in bad shape: it was obvious they'd put up a fight before being taken. Their shirt was torn in a huge gash at the side, blood staining the edges, though Kane could smell that they weren't bleeding anymore. They clutched their arm to their chest defensively, like it was hurt, and looked up at him with fear in their eyes.

But he couldn't comfort them yet. "This is my human," he insisted.

"Kane?" Laken asked, voice drenched in fear and betrayal.

It broke his heart to see Laken so terrified. Of him, at that. They either didn't realize what his plan was, or... didn't think him morally capable of coming to their rescue, after everything they must have heard from Jim about what he'd been like in vampire territory.

"Huh. I guess this is your human. Up you get, then." The manager waved them over.

Laken slid up the wall and shuffled over, shaking.

Kane scooped them into his arms, careful to avoid aggravating their injuries. Laken was bigger than him, but far weaker, he realized. He was strong now. He'd been strong for a long time, ever since Jim started feeding him. He just felt so consistently vulnerable that it hadn't really sunk in until now.

Laken didn't resist, the fact of their helplessness equally obvious to them.

"Thank you," Kane told the manager, curt. He turned and hasted toward the exit, relieved it had gone so smoothly.

As soon as they got out, he opened his mouth to start explaining, but Laken beat him to it.

"Kane? Buddy?" Their voice was too strained to sound natural as they peered up at him with nervous eyes. "We're friends, right? Remember when we did your birthday together? Listen, if it's my blood, you can have some! That's fine! I just-"

Kane hugged them close. "I'm here to rescue you," he choked out, trying not to cry. "It's okay. You're safe now."

He felt Laken untense all at once. "Oh, thank fucking god. I totally thought..." They laughed giddily, wiping their tears away with their good arm, but more came anyway. "Dude, you're a lifesaver. Like, literally."

"I'm- I'm trying to be good. I want to be better." Not just well-behaved. Good.

"Well, you're being pretty damn good to me right now." Laken reclined in his arms. "Hey, how fast can you get going? Those assholes who took me were pretty fast, and they didn't even seem like they were trying all that hard. What's, like, the fastest you can get?"

Kane burst into a grin. "You want to find out?"

He could tell it wasn't as fast as he'd ever gone. Kane was still in the process of recovering all the muscle he'd lost during his captivity, and though his speed was still at least forty miles per hour if he had to guess, it wasn't top-level for a vampire. Still, Laken seemed impressed, so he took it as a win.

Liz was waiting on Jim's porch, Jim just inside, talking to her through the window. As soon as he set Laken down, they ran at Liz, but not as fast as she ran at them. They met in the middle with such force that Laken cried out in pain, but neither stopped, wrapping each other in a tight embrace.

"I thought you were gone!" Liz wept. "You were gone, they took you!"

Laken laughed, alight with joy. "Can't get rid of me that easy."

Jim opened the front door, and almost took a step out onto the porch, but hesitated, obviously frightened by the night's events.

Kane scampered up to him. "I came back. Just like I said," he reported, grinning.

"You really did. Huh." Jim stared at him like he'd never seen him before.

"And- and now you know. You know I'd always come back. And if anyone ever tried to take you, I'd bring you back, too. Just like how I saved Laken." Quieter, he added, "Just like how you saved me."

Jim smiled at that, finally finding the courage to step onto the porch. He nudged Kane's shoulder. "Right back at you."

Kane beamed. Jim had promised him he was safe from the hunters over and over, but it felt different this time. Not an attempted comfort during an episode of panic, but mutually-assured protection. There was something to it that felt stronger, more real. A bond.

"I'm gonna take Laken to the hospital!" Liz called back. "And hey, Kane? Thank you."

A thank-you from Liz was almost as precious as the fact that she was trusting him unrestrained, alone with Jim, at night. She still wore her hunting gear, but she felt less scary for once.

He nodded back at her. "Any time."

"See you guys!" Laken gave them finger-guns, punctuated with an "Ow," when they moved their injured arm wrong.

Liz laughed and helped them into her truck, leaving him alone with Jim.

"I'll go back in the basement," Kane promised. "Just like before. Nothing has to change."

Jim blinked with disbelief. "Are you kidding me? Kane, I'm not gonna keep you locked up anymore. I'm not saying I'd never be scared around you again, but... you're not a prisoner anymore."

Kane should feel happy about that, shouldn't he? That's what he'd wanted for so long, trapped in his cell back with the hunters.

Why did it make his stomach turn with dread?

"Um, I don't-"

"I mean, there's not enough time left before sunrise for you to get home tonight, especially if you wanna pack first. But you're not trapped in my basement anymore. You're free to go, man. You can head back home tomorrow night if you want."

Kane shuffled his feet awkwardly. "What if I... don't want?"

"Don't... want? You don't want to be free?" Jim asked, baffled.

Tears sprung to Kane's eyes. This was his home, the only home he'd known in years. "I don't want to leave," he whispered.

Jim exhaled a long breath, the smile dropping from his face. He was silent for a moment before taking Kane's hand. "Okay."

"Okay?" he sniffled, fingers curling around Jim's.

"Okay, you can stay. Long as you keep your promise and protect me. Plus you gotta get your own blood now. And I guess-" Jim chuckled, shaking his head. "I guess we can figure it out as we go."

"I can still wear the chains," Kane offered. "So you feel safe."

"Man, fuck the chains." Jim led him inside, kicking the door closed behind him.

Kane went back down to his basement, tucking himself into bed. As the sun crested over the horizon, he fell asleep behind an unlocked, open door.

thank you all for coming with me on 50+ chapters of this journey so far :) i hope you guys like present arc part 2 just as much as you liked part 1! we've got some fun stuff coming up! i know a lot of you have been asking after two things in particular, a kane/bellamy reunion and kane reading jim's book. both of those will be in present arc part 2! as well as a bunch of other fun stuff :)

tune in on saturday for some non-K&J vampire shenanigans, and more K&J (jim recovery arc) on the following tuesday. present arc part 2 will start in august.

taglist in reblog, as usual.

event: @whumpmasinjuly

334 notes · View notes

meownotgood · 1 year

Text

When Aki dies, you find traces of him in your apartment.

A single dark hair on your pillowcase. A brown ring that's been stained into the white wood of your nightstand from where he set his coffee cup. His book that will forever go half-read, a bright red bookmark sticking out of the center of the pages.

The sheets smell just like him, in a way that makes your heart ache and your stomach churn; they smell like his cigarettes, his laundry soap, the scent of his skin. Your home feels empty without him. Your mattress has a permanent divot from where his body once occupied the space right next to yours. You're starting to forget the sound of his voice, but you can't bring yourself to listen to the last voicemail he left for you.

His toothbrush is in the mug on the counter, it's right next to your own. You'd throw his away, but yours would look lonely without it. You taped a ticket stub from your first date onto the bathroom mirror. He left the iron out from the last time he ironed his suit; it was the last time he wore it, and it was the last time you saw him. If you take a shower, you're sure when you step out you'll be able to see the remnants of a heart he drew for you on the fogged up glass, right before he left for work. You'd have wanted him to write more if you knew he wouldn't be coming back.

There's notes he's left for you on the fridge, hung up with little magnets: reminders of his upcoming work schedule, a recipe he wanted to make for you, I love you, sweetheart arranged in black and white word magnets. For a few brief moments, you ponder whether or not you should throw out you and Aki's leftovers from dinner a few days before.

Maybe you should toss his old ashtray, too. Or the letters he wrote to you, or the gifts he gave you. Or his spare house key, or his favorite CD, or his hair tie, or his lighter. Or the old Polaroids you took of him and yourself — including the one he always carried with him. In the picture, you're kissing his cheek, and he's giving the only genuine smile you've ever been able to capture. The police went through his wallet and figured you'd want it.

You suppose you should at least cancel the newspaper subscription. It was his routine to read it. Besides, you'd rather not see Aki Hayakawa among the obituaries, you have no interest in reading the headline about the horrific Gun Devil attack. You could go without newspapers for the rest of your life. You never really liked reading them, anyways.

When you've finally gathered the energy, you'll head to the funeral home to pick up his ashes. You'll travel to Hokkaido, you'll leave them in a shiny urn right beside his family's tombstone, just as he always wanted. Just as you promised you would do for him when it was his time. You promised him a lot of things. You promised you would keep living, for his sake. You promised you'd love him even after he's gone.

Perhaps then, after you've turned around and left him there, after you've said your goodbyes and returned to step inside a cold, empty home, you'll finally have the courage to throw out his belongings.

#uhhhhhhhhhhhh..........#yes it's that kind of night sorry to all #it's late is everyone asleep can I sad aki post now #aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #aki <3

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adsmae · 1 year

Text

ꜱᴛᴀʏ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴀɢᴇ ᴅʀɪɴᴋɪɴɢ

You and Rodrick recently had a bad fight and it ended up with you ignoring him for days. Every time he tried texting you or calling, you would ignore. You kept re-hashing what went down that day. You were upset that he was being secretive and sneaky around you. You noticed before everything that he would turn his phone away from you anytime you saw him texting. It made you think of the thing you both promised each other; loyalty. Every bit of you wanted to trust him But you couldn't. Maybe Heather finally gave him the attention he craved and you were just a second choice. After all you've only been dating Rodrick 6 months.

After a long day of doing nothing but laundry and moping around, you decided it was best to take a break from everything. You have been so upset about the fight you had with Rodrick that you forgot about yourself and what was important. You just wanted to chill and get things off your mind. It was getting dark out so it was the perfect time. It lead you to call the only person you could think of.

"Hey Bill. I know it's late but I was wondering if you could do a favor for me?"

"Y/n! heyyy. What can I help you out with little lady?"

"Uh- well, I was thinking you could get me some liquor. I'll give you money if you bring it"

"Hmm…okay. Is everything alright? You never drink."

"Mhm mh… yeah everything is fine. Now are you going to get it for me or not?"

"Sure thing. I'll see you in about 10 minutes."

And with that you hung the phone up and waited patiently.

You knew what you were doing wasn't the smartest Idea but you wanted to take a risk. You weren't a goody two shoes but you weren't so bad either. You've never smoked, drank, or did any drugs but you have done things that you probably could have easily died from like; Hiking with Rodrick at the Burnside lake. It was quite the experience.

As you thought of all the bad things that you've done and haven't done, you heard a car pull up. You jumped up from you bed and walked straight downstairs and out the door to the end of your driveway. The cool breeze hitting your cheeks and a blondie in your sight.

"Hey y/n. I hope this is okay for you." Bill smiled as he handed you the bagged bottle of liquor.

"Yeah it's fine. Thanks" You quickly shove the bottle in your zip up hoodie

"I hate to ask but does Rodrick know about this?" Bill asked with concern.

"This doesn't concern him. I should probably go inside."

"Uh yeah..right. The money?" Bill looked around and whispered.

You roll your eyes "Here." You hand him a 20 dollar bill and head inside.

When you get to your room you grab the 'life is peachy' Cd by Korn and play Good God on your player. You walk over to your bed and sit down and grab the wrapped bottle from your night stand and unwrap the bottle.

"I guess this will do" You shrug and grab the cup that you brought from downstairs from your night stand.

You watched as the clear liquid filled the cup but realized that you didn't have anything to chase it with. You didn't really care but your friends always say "If you don't have anything to drink liquor with then why are you drinking?" You ignored it anyway.

"Here's to my boyfriend that I apparently know nothing about" You raise your glass to the fake audience and shoot back the harsh liquid in your throat.

***

It's been about 30 minutes and you were really starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. You were jumping around and dancing like a crazy person. You were so drunk you started laughing at your own jokes that you could barely speak out.

"Why haven't I done this beforeee oh my god this is soooooo fun ahaha"

You began to get dizzy so you walk over to your Cd player and pause the music to take a moment to breath.

*Tick…Tick…Tick*

Just as you were about to go sit down, you heard tapping and ticking noises at your window. You weren't sure who it was but you were curious.

You open your window and appear down at the dark figure with messy dark hair. Just what you needed right now.

"Rodrick? What the hell?" You quietly yelled from your window.

"Y/n Can I come up?" Rodrick carefully asked. You were contemplating it but you didn't have the energy to think.

"Yeah sure" You left the window open and rushed to your bed and waited for the emo boy. You missed him but you were still mad at the fact he hasn't told you why he was being secretive or what was going on.

Rodrick slid in and closed your window and locked it before walking to you

"I know you probably don't want to see me r-" You cut him off

"Why have you been sneaky around me? I thought we w-were honest with each other." You said with a bewildered tone. Your eyes locked onto his and that's when Rodrick knew he extremely screwed up. You had the look of disappointment and he didn't ever want to make you feel like that towards him.

"That's why I'm here. I want to explain to you that it's nothing you're thinking" Rodrick sat next to you on the bed.

"Sh-so then what is it?" You slurred out. You notice Rodrick's confused face.

"Wait- have you been drinking?" He looked you up and down and glanced around the room and saw a half drunken bottle of liquor on your night stand. You knew he was going to be pissed and angry but you didn't care

"Yeah I have. Sh-so wh-what" You rolled your eyes and laid back on your forearms. Rodrick looked at you with guilt written on his face.

Rodrick shook his head "Forget it. Let's get you some water." He grabbed the cup from your night stand and walked to your joined bathroom.

"Here" Rodrick handed you to cup of water and sat down next to you. You took a few gulps then put it down on your desk.

"Why are you taking care of me right now?" You questioned. He furrowed his brows in response and scooted closer to you.

"Because that's my job. Jeez I'm not a bad boyfriend." He reached for your hand and clasped his hand with yours. You couldn't help but smile at the way he was being with you.

"I unfortunately agree. Is-it's so hard for me to be mad at you." You confessed.

Rodrick laughed before sighing "You should probably try to lay down and rest" He stated.

"Yeah but-"

"We can talk tomorrow. Just lay down." He unshed you to get in the covers.

You rolled your eyes and nodded. He tucked the blanket around your figured and started heading towards the window.

"Rodrick?" You called out.

"Yeah? is everything okay?" He turned around.

"Yeah. Can you stay?" You asked with a soft tone. You felt bad for everything you had put him through tonight and with him having to deal with your mess.

"Yeah but are you sure?" Rodrick walked to the side of the bed and stood in front of you.

You turn to look up at Rodrick "Mhm. I'm very sure" You replied and moved closer to the wall for Rodrick.

He couldn't refuse the offer. He missed you so much and wanted everything to be normal. Rodrick took his shoes and shirt off before turning the lights off. He walked over to your bed and slid under the covers.

"C'mere" Rodrick whispered. You scooted closer and laid your head on his chest. It felt just right being in his arms. You hated to admit it but you've missed this. His fingers tracing circles on the side of your hip and you having your hand placed on his chest occasionally tracing it. It was very comforting to say the least.

"I've missed this." You whisper softly. You felt him move you closer.

"I've missed you stupid." Rodrick chortled out softly.

"Goodnight Rockstar" You smile. You felt him kiss the back of your head.

"Goodnight beautiful."

(N/A this kinda sucked but I hope everyone had a good day/ night. Comment some ideas of what or who I should write about next)

#rodrick x reader #rodrick fanfic #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrickheffley #emo kid #emo boy #not my rodrick #oneshot #greg heffley #rodrick imagine #rodrick smut

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mlmxreader · 5 months

Text

Chance to Visit | Kuai Liang x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Kuai Liang with

65 "It's not much, but... I figured you'd appreciate it"

96"Whenever I see you smile, it takes my breath away" ❞

: ̗̀➛ It's not often that Kuai Liang is allowed to be a boyfriend, a significant other - but he's always glad when he does.

: ̗̀➛ swearing

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

It wasn’t often that Kuai Liang got the chance to visit you, most often because of his duties to his clan, but he did always attempt to make time for you whenever he could.

You were his partner, and he hated the thought of being terrible to you and of neglecting you; he always tried to put aside at least one day a week when he could swing by and see you.

Usually, that often meant getting a hoodie on and a pair of jogging bottoms, sitting down and either listening to Sabaton songs as their music videos played on the television or watching old horror films; he liked it just as much either way, mostly because it meant being able to spend even just a little bit of time with you.

This time, though, he decided on something a little different; heeding Johnny Cage’s advice, Kuai stopped at the local CD and DVD shop, and picked up a few things that he knew you would like.

For the most part, it was copies of old horror films, but when he noticed a Sabaton CD that wasn’t yet in your collection, he knew he just had to grab it before it was too late. It wasn’t much, and it didn’t cost a lot, but he did hope that you would at least recognise the effort and the thought he put into it.

When he got to your door, he noticed his hands were shaking slightly, causing him to feel a slight sting in his stomach as he waited for you to answer; the second the door opened and you smiled at him, he was frozen in time.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, never tired of seeing your smile or hearing your laugh; he could smell your cologne sharply, making his nose itch slightly as he followed you inside, gently placing the white plastic bag on the kitchen counter next to the kettle and clearing his throat.

He really, really hoped that you would like it.

“I went to the shop,” he started, grabbing the bag and opening it slightly. “And it’s not much but… I figured you’d appreciate it and, maybe, forgive me for neglecting you.”

You furrowed your brows, but he didn’t have time to even show you everything he had gotten, as the second he pulled out the CD, you all but launched yourself into him, hugging him tightly and making him stumble back slightly as he gently placed the CD on the counter so that he could wrap his arms around you, laughing a little to himself.

You had never hugged him that hard, that tight, before. He enjoyed it.

“You’re so fucking amazing!” You sounded like you were going to cry.

Kuai hummed under his breath as he held you tightly, revelling in just how excited and happy you were. “Am I forgiven?”

You pulled away, laughing as you shook your head. “You were forgiven the moment you showed up at my door.”

He smiled, relief flooding through his veins as he nodded slowly; chewing at the inside of his lip as he gestured to the bag again. “There is more.”

“You’re the best boyfriend I could fucking ask for,” you beamed, on the verge of tears although you did your best not to show it too much. “Y’know that, don’t you?”

He nodded slowly, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “Can I stay?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

He hummed, just watching you for a moment as you looked through the DVDs, telling him all about the films even though he wasn’t really listening; too focused on the way you smiled and how fucking happy you seemed to be.

He could have sworn that when it came to appreciation for films, you definitely beat Johnny - although he would never tell him that. Kuai didn’t hear a word you said, head tilted slightly to the side as he folded his arms across the chest and watched you, smiling as you grinned.

You didn’t seem to notice, still talking so excitedly.

“Whenever I see you smile, it takes my breath away,” he mused, not even realising that he had said it aloud until you turned to him and raised a brow.

“What?”

Kuai approached, gently taking your hands in his as he hummed, letting his thumbs grace gently over your knuckles for a moment. “Nothing, just… when you talk about your films like that… it’s like you put me under a spell.”

You rolled your eyes as you scoffed, stealing a quick kiss before you let go of his hands and grabbed the bag. “You’re an idiot sometimes… what do you fancy for takeaway?”

He followed you into the living room, more than happy when you snuggled into his side and pulled your phone out, going through what could be ordered; he didn’t really mind, in all honesty, he wasn’t exactly fussy when it came to food.

“Whatever you like.”

“I don’t wanna order something you don’t like, though,” you frowned, flashing him the puppy dog eyes for a moment.

Kuai sighed, scratching the corner of his eye for a second before he shrugged. “We haven’t tried that new place you said about last time, yet.”

“So you wanna go there?”

“Alright,” he agreed with a curt nod.

You took a quick look for the menu, and although it wasn’t rare, you were excited when Kuai agreed to get three main portions and split them between you both so you had a chance to try it all.

He didn’t really get much time to do such a thing when he was back home; his clan mostly ate whatever Madam Bo would treat them to, and they were rarely able to order in takeaway as well.

But with you, it was different. Kuai could actually drop his act as the stoic yet fair Grandmaster, he could actually be a significant other; he just hoped that, when the time came, you would accept his hand in marriage.

Although that could wait.

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writingcold · 2 months

Text

Hello! Welcome to Chapter 3.3 of CD&FE.

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years. We’ve reached the last little bit of Part 3.

Content warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, sexual situations. Heavy angst. (please don’t come at me - there is a happy ending, just not for a few chapters!) Oral, anal play (m rec), and their sex.

Word Count: approx. 4.3K

Thank you to @edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemaddess. Both of these ladies are amazing, if you didn’t already know that. 😘

CD&FE, Part 3.3: Her POV

It was our last night in the cottage. We had tripped through the fancy manor house, and ambled through several museums. We took one boat cruise around the harbor and another that went way out onto Superior that included way too much food and booze. We hiked a few of the less icy trails and snapped pictures that no one would ever see - maybe. I was sure I got a few gems of Jake slipping around like a maniac. We had huddled on the couch, our toes together under the blankets with the fire going and books in hands. I listened to him play his guitar as I cooked us breakfast. And we laughed. We laughed like old friends over things that were unimportant and weird thoughts that we shared. We held each other close and fucked like rabbits. All the while, I was filled with a happiness that felt like it was on the precipice of rupture.

I watched him from the living room. He was at the grill with his back to me. The way his ponytail moved across his shoulders made me drool a bit. He had insisted that he cook our dinner - grilled seafood and salamon and the sides were in the oven keeping warm. I was wrapped in a blanket of scent and music and anticipation. Time. The one thing that we had never had was time. My entire essence was screaming at me to keep this one close. To keep him sheltered and protected with me. I didn’t mind his morning breath, or the way he smelled at the end of the day of running around. I didn’t mind the actual ‘life’ aspect with him - the being human. The way he touched me; the way he allowed me to explore him; the way every step together felt so completely right told me to do whatever it took to keep this man in my life. And yet.

Outside was considerably warmer than our first night in the cottage. He was dressed only in his light flannel and jeans as he worked the grill. My sight cast out to look beyond, taking note that there was less ice compared to our arrival. There was a promise of green on the horizon. I was sure that the island was gorgeous during the warmer months and made a mental note to look into booking the place once more when it was all full of life. I took a sip of my cocktail. I wanted my hands on him. In my less impulsive state, I wanted to touch all that was ‘him’. I knew my minutes with him were sliding by. All I wanted was my teeth on him, marking him as my own before he was carried away by time and distance.

I had no idea what the hell I had meant all those days ago. I was glad to have known what was between us - what could be between us. I knew right well what I was asking of him - to leave these interludes as is and not to flame anything beyond what was into existence. It contained four little letters that equaled a shit ton more than what I was willing to admit. But…

But this was supposed to mean everything, wasn’t it? Wasn’t love something to fight for? Something to try to hold tight and cherish and nurture for all time? There was a stab right in the center of my heart that would not let up in its blazing glory. Why? Why feel this love - for it was glaringly obvious - when neither of you could hold onto it in any honorable fashion? A bubble of a sob broke free, passing through my mouth just as Jake turned back towards the sliding glass door.

“Fuck,” I cursed as I was quick to wipe at my face and hide my mouth behind my drink.

I launched myself up and raced to the bathroom. I was not going to let him see me like this, was I? Oh hell no. I heard him pass through the door with my name on his lips. I nearly dropped my glass into the sink as I shut the door behind me with my foot. I fumbled with the push button lock just as I heard him calling out for me once more. He had to have been in the kitchen, but I could feel the concern in his tone. I turned the faucet on to try to mask the gulping breaths I was struggling through. I felt like I was breaking beneath the weight of emotions as they pummeled my sappy ass. I sucked air as he tapped against the door, my name a near whisper through the wood grain.

“Can I come in, please?” he asked softly, as if all of his own feelings were catching up to him as well.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I hiccupped, running the water across a washcloth. I look into the mirror and flinch at the mess I saw there.

There was silence on the other side of the door. I paused the furious blotting on my face to listen to see if he was still waiting for me. I turned enough to see that I could see the dark spots of his feet at the bottom of the door. My heart felt like it was on fire as I stifled another sob.

“Jake,” I said, trying my level best to keep my tone normal. “I just need- Fuck. I just need… I…”

“Dinner’s ready,” he said over top of my faltering words. “Getting cold.”

The sudden shift made everything stop. All the feelings that were overwhelming. All the ideas that were overtaking everything. All of it stopped like someone had hit the pause button on my very own remote control.

“What?” I asked, frozen to my spot.

“Dinner’s ready, mouse. We don’t want it to get cold, right? You want wine or whatever it is that you were having?”

His voice was so calm that everything quieted in my brain and returned to normal just like magic. I drug in a breath as I dried my face. I opened the door to him waiting by the bedroom door with a sad little grin. I wanted to ask him how he did that. I wanted to ask him if he knew I was crying over him. Instead I followed him out to the lovely table that I had set for us. He had taken a moment to light the candles before retrieving our plates from the oven. I fixed myself a tito’s + cranberry while he got a beer from the fridge. We sat down together, but I didn’t have it in me to really look anywhere else other than at him.

“I don’t suppose I can talk you into a long distance relationship, can I?” he asked as he tapped his fingers to the table top with his eyes cast down away from me.

I couldn’t press my lips any tighter together to keep the pathetic whimper that cut through my throat. He reached for me and it was nothing for me to slide into his lap and be engulfed in all of him.

“I just know that I enjoy all of this life so much more when you’re here with me,” he whispered, holding on tightly.

Our lips found each other in a warmth that melted me, despite my brain firing off warning shots to shut it down right quick. He squeezed my hip as he touched my face and deepened our kiss. Those tears that I needed to hide quickly returned and left me no way of masking them. My gut was screaming at me but my heart was reaching out through my chest and wrapping about this man that it so desperately wanted.

“Hey,” he whispered, wiping at my damp cheeks.

“Sorry,” I muttered as I worked my way off his lap in search of tissues. “Your beautiful dinner… We need to eat it before-”

“I don’t think this can wait,” he remarked as I sat back down. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

I took a sip of my drink, licking at the few drops that fell across my lip. “This looks really amazing, actually. I can’t believe how hungry I am.”

He sat back in his chair, eyes hardening with need. “Avoidance doesn’t become you. If we can talk this through, perhaps it’ll make our night go a bit better.”

I dug through the lovely colors of the veggies. “Look. Last time we talked about this, we were in a tub with scented bubbles. I don’t think much has changed.”

“Well, if it’s water you’re looking for, I guess I’m game to go out with the ice on the lake,” he huffed with his hand on his hip. His expression relaxed into an engaged smile. “Just, please.”

“I don’t want to sound like a selfish bitch.”

I stuffed a thick piece of shrimp into my mouth and looked out to the deck to catch the edge of my words. He took a drink of his beer before taking a bite of his veggies. It was just the sound of silverware meeting plates for a few minutes, and that was okay. I could pretend that it was fine until I actually made eye contact with him once more. I lowered my fork to my plate and reached a shaky hand out to my glass.

“We both know that this - whatever it is between us is not to be taken lightly,” I said before I took a sip.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I say it because I know it’s reciprocated. And no, not something to take lightly.”

My eyes pinched closed against the admittance. He was not wrong. His poetic ass could just haul off and say such niceties; such truths. I fought against chewing my bottom lip, but failed. His hand landed on my arm as if he was trying to support me through my struggle.

“I have a very hard time with being lonely,” I said finally. “Jake, I can’t do it. I am still in love with my career. I’m still in love with making my own way. I can’t be one of those girls that drop everything for the man of their dreams.”

The corner of his mouth tugged a bit as he tried to smile. The weight of what I was trying to convey to him - to show him that I had thought about this very thing often was like dropping that last curtain for him to know me.

“I can’t deny what we are feeling is real,” I continued, unable to hide the little waver in my voice. “I want to be able to honor that with every ounce of my being. I know what I am capable of, and what I am not. Distance doesn’t work for me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Is it the faithfulness?”

I shook my head. It was a fair question. “I just know that I cannot be lonely when I’m in a relationship. I’ve done it before - will not do that again. I do fine alone when I am on my own. But like I said, it makes me sound like a selfish bitch. If I commit to you, I want you. All of it, all the time. That means one of us has to give up what they are doing.”

He let out a hard breath of understanding. “Got it.”

“You’re not ready to give up the road are you?”

He shook his head. “And you’re not ready to travel, are you?”

I shook my head.

“Right.” He leaned forward on his elbows, beer between his hands. “Promise me something then.”

I took a bite of fish, savoring the flavor. I nodded as I looked at him.

“If you find someone who loves you, willing to be where you are, you will love them back.”

“Only if you promise me, if you find some badass vagabond queen you make them your own.”

I couldn’t help the hard breath that echoed in my lungs as I fought to get the words out. He leaned away from me and my touch. The warmth of him ebbed for just long enough for me to be unable to stand it. What a shitshow. I wanted to curse fate and all her unruly bitches who seemed to be laughing at us at the moment. He wiped at my cheek, drying the evidence away.

We finished up our meal, although neither of us was able to eat it all. I made him sit and play his guitar as I cleaned up. The buzz of my cocktails was faded by the food, but that was all right. He played melancholy melodies that I did not recognize. Odd. I could identify like 99% of what he played for me. When I looked at him, his eyes were on the fireplace as if chasing away his own feelings. Jake was easy to love. There was no doubt in my fabric of that fact.

I carefully folded the dish towel and took a few minutes just looking out the window to collect myself. I wanted this man to feel every ounce of me before we parted. I wanted him to know that coming with me on this trip was not for nothing. A tiny fracture had already formed at the base of my spirit that was begging not to be exacerbated. The self-inflicted wound that waited just over the surface of my chest was itchy. I listened to him as he set his guitar into its case. Three more long, deep breaths allowed me to turn towards him, taking in the similar state he was in as was coming towards me.

He took my hands in his own, stopping the furious fidgeting that I had not realized I was doing until that moment. He brushed my hair back from my face. His eyes were a mix of emotions that were being kindled with desire. He was trying to mask the tinge of sadness that flickered within the swirl of caramel colored earth that grounded him. Before I could stop, my lips curled down as I struggled within his proximity.

“May I?” he asked, reaching out his fingertips and stopping their path just over the curve of my cheek.

I felt myself shatter as all I could do was nod once. He smoothed his touch across my cheek, breaking through the hairline and around the back of my head, allowing his fingers to rest against my neck. He brought up his other hand, passing the pad of his thumb across my lips as he caressed my cheek until he stopped as if snapping a mental picture to keep for all time. He was so close, I could feel his gentle breath against my skin. The heat of his body wrapped around me as he pressed me against the counter. Jake began tracing tiny ovals across the ridge of my cheek as I struggled to keep my gaze upon him.

“I dream of this -” he whispered as he placed a barely there kiss on my temple. “I dream of this - this face; this mouth; this body. You are my dream, Y/n.”

Our kiss roasted away thoughts and hurt and left only desire behind. My hands squeezed his love handles as if I could barely keep my knees from buckling. He let out a soft hum as he pulled away. His eyes swept over my face once more. The corner of his mouth stretched into a smirk.

“Should we finish where we started this vacation?” he asked, his voice full of lust and rasp.

“With your face in my pussy and getting yourself off?” I remarked, feeling smug as that image blazed in my mind.

“Hmm,” he shrugged, but his eyebrow raised with a cheeky smile.

He was kicking out of his shoes as he led me back towards the dining table. He lifted the hem of my sweater just enough to pass a finger across my tummy. His brow twitched as he fell away to close the drapes on the slider door. I was quick to yank off everything, all the while shivering in anticipation. He ducked back into the bedroom for a moment before reappearing with his flannel discarded and t-shirt gone. It was hard not to allow my eyes to roam over his skin. The way he unfastened his belt with one hand while he was walking made me move all the faster.

“Up on the table, baby,” he said as he stopped long enough for his pants to drop to the floor.

He set something on the table next to me but kept my attention with his lust blown gaze. I was set adrift in his heat and velvet touches. The silk of his lips feasted upon my throat as his embrace wrapped around me. This man had tasted me every day of this vacation. His eyes were already making their way down to my core. He trailed the tip of his tongue down, through my cleavage, around my belly button, before he latched on to the crease of my hip with a hard suck that I was sure would leave a lovely little mark. I was ready to lay back, but he stopped me. He wrapped his hands around one ankle and moved first one leg followed by the other over his own shoulders as he settled in.

“Slide a bit forward,” he said between kisses to my inner thigh.

I shimmied closer, all the while, twisting his hair between my fingers. “Gonna fuck me up, aren’t you, Jake?”

“In the best way possible.”

He passed a firm touch through my exposed center. My eyes drifted closed as he placed a single kiss to my clit before he sat back. His hands drifted up and down my thighs as he looked up at me. I passed my fingertips down his jaw.

I’m not sure how much time elapsed as we just paused there - all ghosting touches and wordless expressions passing between us. I was trying to voice my wish of love for him, all the while I pictured him telling me that what was transpiring was not in vain. That this love between us would one day be fully realized. I felt my bottom lip begin to tuck in between my nervous teeth. My heart thudded painfully as he reached up to cup my cheek.

“I want to hear how I make you feel,” he sighed as he started to lean in once more. “Can you do that for me?”

I grinned down at him as I tucked his hair behind his ears. He whispered a ‘good girl’ with a sinister smirk. He slowly lowered himself to his knees before me, forging a path of kisses that left traces of heat on my chilled skin. I finally caught sight of what he had set beside me just out of reach - lube. My brain paused as he caught my attention once more with a gentle bite on the inside of my thigh.

He kissed my cunt like he kissed my mouth - soft, firm, wet, biting, demanding. Always demanding. I watched in total fascination as he worked my body, coaxing every whine, every gulp of air to get louder and louder. He danced my swollen clit across his tongue with ease before plunging fingers into my core to stroke my desire. His name burned on my tongue and my throat as he feasted upon me. He took his free hand and folded it into mine . Meeting his gaze, my chest exploded in emotion as all the love lay bare in his earth toned iris’. This man had worshiped every inch of my body. He had marked every ounce of my flesh as his own. He claimed my spirit and accepted all of me without hesitation.

He hummed as he took my body to the brink of collapse. With sure hands, he supported me as he kissed his way back to standing before me. He smoothed my hair back from my damp face. He cradled my cheek as he seemed to study me - all of me. I let my hands trace across his pecks, down the plane of his belly to come to rest upon his cock. The deep groan that vibrated in his chest made me smile. I pumped his length, liking the way his tongue ghosted across his bottom lip as he leaned away from me to see better.

I brought my heels up to fully open for him, and rested them on the edge of the stout table. I lined him up and he kissed me hard as he pressed in to join our bodies. He held me close as we adjusted to each other. He withdrew only to return in a fiercely slow manner. He grabbed hold of my jaw as I tried to nuzzle down into his shoulder. We were nose to nose as he repeated the move.

“I need to watch every minute,” he whispered into my parted lips.

I moaned as he ground into me. He let go once he knew I understood. I felt his fingers searching at my side for his bottle and my mind did a little backflip. He brought my hand up and squirted the lube across my fingers. There was no need to convey what he wanted, and I was quick to spread his cheeks as he thrust hard into me. I watched his eyes as I pushed one, followed by two fingers into his entrance as he shifted his hips hard into my core.

“Oh my god,” I gasped as we started up a rhythm - I would plunge into him as he withdrew from me.

His eyes were hard with concentration. His mouth pulled tight across his teeth as I pushed as far as could with my fingers. Jake was making me his, just as much as I was making him my own. As the thought struck, my body exploded against him. He let out the most beautiful sound as he rode me out, searching for another high for me. My legs quivered as he tried to keep me in place. Everything in me was crying out as my soul crashed back into reality.

I pushed him back onto my hand, getting just enough leverage to push him back even further so my feet fell to the ground. He started to protest, but I pushed him back again, keeping him skewered on my fingers. I split my digits apart while in him and his head lulled back as I slid down his body to my knees.

“Mouse,” he moaned out as I drove his hips into my waiting mouth.

I swallowed him down hard as he buried his fingers into my hair. He let me bob against him in my own rhythm, all the while pumping my fingers in the opposite in search of ruining him completely. I opened my eyes as I finally hit how I wanted to please him. He was holding onto his left hip as if for dear life. I rolled my eyes up to him, seeing the absolute power that I was weaving over him. He brushed one finger along my cheek as I swallowed him all the way into my throat and stopped - holding him there as my body threatened to mutiny against my wishes and gag hard. I touched the tip of my nose to the soft hair of his belly. He cupped my cheek once more and for a fleeting second, I felt suspended in this beautiful man’s gaze.

He ripped himself away from me, leaving me surprised. He pushed me down to the floor and jacked my legs up across his hips. His mouth crashed into mine as he slid back into me wildly. He kept himself just above me, forcing us to keep our eyes open on the other. My core flinched as I couldn’t hold on. He had me spraying him within a minute. He had me screaming his name in under two.

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, the words rough and hard in his throat. His eyes dropped to mine as he realized what he had said.

My jaw slacked as my chest exploded. I felt the tears prickle in my eyes as I struggled. Fuck me. I wanted to say them, too. I wanted to speak those same words as my everything spilled out on the floor beneath me.

“Tell me I’m the fucking man of your dreams, mouse,” he growled as he ground into me. “Tell me that you fucking-”

“Love you,” I managed finally before he could overwhelm me with my own words.

He pummeled me, effectively destroying us both in the process. He said my name over and over as he came hard, his hips snapping against my drenched thighs. Completely opposite of what he had just done, he lowered his forehead to touch my own. The moment was studded with our harsh breath and bleeding hearts. I wanted to whisper his name but it burned away unspoken in my throat. I breathed him in the best I could as tears fought to escape from my eyes.

“Beautiful,” he gasped, breaking the stillness as he fell away from me, breaking our connection.

I whimpered from the loss. My thoughts begged for me to speak them - but I held them as my own. We needed to be strong in our convictions. We needed to treasure this end and retain hope that we could return to it in the future.

So. Yeah. I want to do that commercial thing - But Wait! There’s More! And there is. There is just some life we need to get through first. The next few (well, three chapters) are all about life without each other. So, please bear with me. There is a point to having to navigate this. See you next Wednesday.

I do have a tag list here, or you can just let me know in a reply to add you.

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @milkgemini@positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @gretavanbitches @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatcherc @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #cd&fe #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet AU #jake kiszka AU

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