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teatoptony · 8 months

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For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

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writingsbychlo · 5 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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yonphilia · 8 months

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(S)CREAM.

( SUMMARY ) : you just wanted to give gojo a lesson for not inviting you to his halloween party, but why did that lead to you being fucked on his couch?

( WARNINGS ) : smut!!!! (heavy) ghostface! reader! (f) reader. dirty talk + degradation. pussing eating/fingering, cunninglus, gojo has big dick (duh), and just filthy stuff! modern au. college au. reader gets railed by gojo <3

( WK ) : 3.5k+ (i'm ovaluating)

( NOTES ) : proofread a lot! but probably have spelling mistakes :P, i thought of this while thinking of what to dress up as for a college party and drawing ghostface ^^

A doorbell rang, making loud echo noises all throughout the quiet house. It was Halloween night— but it was a bit too late for kids to be trick or treating. the door bell continuously kept ringing nearly every 3 seconds, which sounded as if someone was extremely desperate to get sweets or they just wanted everyone to know what they were doing.

“The party is over!” Gojo shouts from behind the door to lazy to open it.

Not until the bell rings again.

"Hmm..?" Gojo opened the door, only to find no one there, he squints his eyes scanning the place, a look of concern and confusion spread across his face— but soon fades knowing it was probably kids ding dong ditching.

Not shortly after he closes the door and was just about to sit down back on his couch, the doorbell starts to ring over and over again.

He lets out a groan before getting up and walking towards the door, his hand grabbing the doorknob and twisting it, opening the door in attempt to find the culprit.

“….what the hell?", Gojo spoke, his tone was frustrated as his eyes dart around to find no one there. Was this going to continue for the whole night? Did this person just want to annoy him?

He scoffs shutting the door again. Now he could just step onto the porch and look around to see who was bothering him at 1am, but Gojo was a lazy guy, he was not going to put on his slippers just for that.

The doorbell rang again and Gojo decides its best for him to just ignore it, he didn't respond, just stayed silent for a few seconds as he walked into the living room resuming his movie.

His head shook in disbelief when the doorbell rang again and again and again, but this time— there was a giggle, a giggle that got him slightly agitated and brows twitching, but he knew that the best course of action was to ignore it.

Still, the curiosity to know who was getting on his nerves, who kept on repeatedly abusing his poor doorbell, who wanted him to open the door so fucking bad, grew inside of him. It felt like the person was just right around the corner. Yet he chose to ignore it.

A couple of minutes pass, it was quiet now, the only sound was his TV playing some horror movie as he munched on his popcorn and some left over pizza from the party earlier.

He turned his head to look at the door and stayed still for a few seconds, before slowly getting up and walking towards it. He grabbed the doorknob, his head and eyes filled with nothing but curiosity. Could he at least just look? Just once? It’s not like some killer will jump out and kill him?

He slowly twists it open, peaking his head out, and he feels his heart skip a beat.

There stood you, dressed in a ghostface costume— in a tight dress with the mask covering your face, hand stretched out and index finger pointed just about to press the doorbell, but of course Gojo didn’t need to know it was you, he was too stupid, heck! he hadn’t even invited you to the long finished party.

“Who the fuck are you?” He said in an irritated tone opening the door fully and leaning against the frame, not until his gaze falls to the shiny metal coated with red in your hand, realising that was a big mistake, the knife looked a bit too realistic to be a costume.

He scans you up and down, wondering why you were dressed as ghostface? Of all the things, why choose a character from a random horror movie? Was this some kind of joke..? And why in a tight slutty dress?

Gojo then narrowed his eyes, analyzing the situation carefully and seeing exactly what was going on. It didn't seem hostile.

As you remained silent, he tried to ignore the knife in your hand from catching his eye, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“It’s Halloween isn’t it..? Well, your choice of outfit…” He trails off as his eyes drop to the dress hugging your body, “quite interesting to say the least..”

A huff escapes your mouth as your bring you hand back to your side. “You caught me i suppose” you mutter under your breath looking away even tho he couldn’t see your face, but oh you could see his— how his hair was messy, his grey sweats loosely hanging on his waist, his matching shirt unintentionally rolled up on the side indicating how much he got up from the sofa to check who was at his door, and his eyes that were constantly scanning you.

Gojo let out a small laugh at your reply. "So what's the reason that brought you here miss ghostface?" he spoke once again, slightly chuckling at his own question as he looked over at you.

You looked cute in your outfit according to him, and he wanted to compliment you about it, but something was holding him back. "Did you come here to annoy me? Or for the party? It finished an hour ago ya know?" he asked with a sly smirk on his face.

You kiss your teeth rolling your eyes at him, arms crossed as you glare at him through your mask. “I know that— i bet it was a stupid party anyways”

He stifled a laugh, despite not ‘knowing’ the pretty lady at his doorstep, he had a feeling he knew who it was, he wanted to tease her, and so he did exactly that. “Oh? I had no idea you wanted to come to my stupid party that bad” he replied with a smirk.

“I didn’t plan on coming anyways— not like you totally forgot to invite me or anything” You say bringing the knife up and pointing it at him, the knife was fake yes, but it was realistic enough to get a reaction out of him.

He takes a step back and his eyes go wide as he lets out a nervous laugh “Oookay okay, and do you mind telling me which one of the pretty girls you are that i so happen to forget to invite..?”

You feel tempted to take off your mask and show him your face, but you don’t, not yet. A smile forms on your face as you press the tip of the ‘knife’ lightly into his neck “let me in first.''

Why was he even hesitating? Your dress as exposing your body in all the right places making his mouth drool. His mind was screaming to invite you inside, and so he does.

''Well now that I look at you like this..I don't see a reason to why not?'' He says as his voice drops an octave and he steps out of the way letting you into his house.

You certainley do not hesitate to rush into his house, taking your heels off and plopping yourself down on his couch, causing your chest to bounce in the process. A huge blush starts to form on his cheeks the longer he stares at you, he could feel his cheeks and ears burning, were you teasing him? playing dumb? or were you really just that innocent?

''Do you want a drink?'' He asks as he leans over to the mini fridge beside a couch, and once you nod, he takes two cans of beer out.

Seeing you put your feet up on his coffee table causing your dress to sneak up your thighs, Gojo makes a mental note to get your number or anything after this. He hands you a can before he sits down beside you.

''So why were you trying to fry my doorbell?'' He pops open his can and takes a long sip of his drink causing it to trickle a little from the corner of his mouth. And that certainley caught your attention.

''Why didn't you invite me to your party?'' You retort back as you open your own drink and air it above your mouth.

''I still don't know who you are-'' He cuts himself off the moment he sees you air your drink, causing it to spill all the way down to your perfectly exposed clevenge and breasts.

He felt too distracted to answer your question, at how stunning you looked right now, at the position you were in on his couch, not caring about the fact he should get you some napkins to help you clean up.

''Well?'' you say as you lick your lips, playing dumb as if you couldn't feel the cold beer trickle down your chin and neck all the way to your exposed chest.

Gojo stayed silent for a few seconds, his eyes glued to the place where the beer stained your skin and dress, he wanted to look away but he was so mesmerised by now. He blinks and quickly looks back at your face, ''I-I don't know- I mean I kinda have no clue who you are but'' He lets out a breathy laugh, ''I definetly want to.''

You let out a laugh at that, setting your beer can down on the table and looking at your own beer stained chest. ''Whoops my bad-'' You turn your head towards him. He couldn't see your face which made him more aroused then he already felt.

''Won't you help me clean up…toru...?'' You whisper sitting up and leaning into him slightly.

Gojo couldn't help but let his eyes wander back to your chest, feeling his dick pulsing in his pants at just the sight of how hot you looked to him. He felt his heartbeat quicken as he finally managed to speak up.

''Y-Yes! Yes of course right away'' He says reacing over to grab a few napkins only to be stopped by your hand grabbing his wrist.

''No.'' You say immediately, ''I meant with these...'' Your other hand comes up to his face before your fingers ghost over his lips. He gulps, his blue eyes meet yours, trying to take in your beauty.

''C'mon don't be shy Satoru...I see the way you look at me in class'' You let go off his wrist and cup both of your breasts leaning into him further until your chest was pressed against his.

''I.....'' He felt like a complete pervert, gawking at your body infront of him, how was he holding himself back from burying his face in your tits right there and then?

''Clean me up-''

Before you could even finish your sentence, he dived straight in, his lips latching to your sticky stained skin, sucking and licking the beer off making him more and more aroused by the growing minute. His white lashes flutter shut at the feeling on your hands snaking up behind his head to tangle in his hair, your head tilting back as your feel his warm tongue lap at your breasts.

His tongue slid up and down trying his best to clean the drink off of you, earning soft whimpers and moans from you causing the bulge in his pants to ache and grow.

''S-Satoru-'' You whine out feeling him suck at your skin, he doesnt hesitate to tug your dress down around your chest.

''No bra huh?'' He mumbles as he smirks before putting your nipple in his mouth sucking on it as if he was a baby and your nipple was the pacifier, biting and tugging the flesh with his teeth until you were pulling at his hair.

Both your bodies were a hot mess, your face red and flushed from how hot you felt right now. You let out a loud whimper feeling him fondle with your breasts.

''F-Fuck! w-wait'' You breath out cupping his cheeks to pull him away, you tilt your mask to the side and lean in to attatch your lips with his swollen pouty ones.

Gojo instantly kisses you back grunting, His hands squeezing your breasts causing you to gasp and he slides his tongue into your mouth, swirling and exploring every inch of it. He kisses you harder and harder, teeth clashing and tongues dancing with each other, his hand goes up to cup your jaw, trying to mold his lips into yours until your mask bumps at his forehead.

''Take it off'' He pants out as he pulls away staring at you.

You let out a shaky breath hesitant at first, but then shake your head, your lips curving into a smirk. ''Lets see if you deserve to see my face hm?''

He groans throwing his head back from how aroused he was, feeling the tension in his abdomen build up.

You were sprawled out on his couch by now, your dress long gone, yet you still hadn't took off your mask, gojo insisted you should, at some point he even tried to take it off- but when he saw you were dead serious about wanting him to fuck you with the ghostface mask on, he felt like he could cum right there and then.

He stares at you hard. You're used the intensity of his gaze, but this is that special stare. That lusty one he gives you in class when you sit there all pretty with your mini skirts laughing along with the other students.

He's practically caging you on his couch hovering on top of you, leaning in and stopping right beside you ear.

"Do you know how fucking good you look right now? How badly I've wanted to fuck you?'' He says as his voice drips with lust. ''I know its you (name)- cuz-'' He lets out a shaky breath leaving a sloppy kiss right under your ear and the area around your neck. ''Can recognise that slutty body anywhere''

He holds his position, all up in your personal space as his fingers trail up your bare thigh. ''I know these pretty thighs all too well by the way you walk around me in school'' His hand inches upwards, fingers hooking around the band of your panties before pulling them and letting them go making them snap against your skin.

The sudden sting causes you to jolt and whimper, a pout forming on your glossy lips, your mask still tilted to the side only enough to reveal your lips.

Gojo smirks as he gets off of the couch, going down on his knees, his arms hooking around under your knees to pull you closer to the edge.

''Lets see if you can actually scream huh'' He mutters as he inches forward to your soaked panties, his breath fanning your silk covered fold earning little whines from you.

''S-satoru-ohh-'' Your words are cut off once he connected his puffy lips to your clothed pussy, sucking on the material and your folds as he groans sending vibrations up your core.

''T-take them off!'' You whimper, your hands going down to hold his hair and tugging on them slightly causing him to smirk. And so he does, in an instant he rips your panties off and without any warning, he connects his lips to your soaking folds, as if it was a magnet pulling satoru.

He sucks and licks at your folds, his tongue laying flat against your labia before he drags it up until it was pressed against your swollen clit, his eyes staring at your unholy expression through his white lashes, how beautiful you looked to him right now, lips parted slightly. He couldn't see your face but he knew your eyes must be closed from the pleasure.

Gojo was sloppy. He gently bites at your senstive bud before he starts to slurp at your juices, creating the most vile sounds known to mankind, suckling slupring licking until you were a moaning mess, gripping his hair and grinding your hips into him.

''O-Oh oh torruuuuu- fuckfuckfuckk g-gon make me cummmmm- ngh'' You cry out arching your back, nipples hard and thighs trembling vigorously, your legs wrap around his shoulders practically suffocating him with your thighs, but he doesn't mind it he has wanted this for way too long now, he was too pussy drunk to notice.

“Mmm..s’sweet mmm” He mumbles into your cunt sending vibrations up your core.

You're mweling as you feel a new sensation build up in your stomach once you feel his tongue enter you, his nose nudging against your clit. his tongue rolling inside you and your spongey spot that will lead you to your destruction, he knows you're close- and just when you're about to have an earth shattering orgasm, he pulls away with a cocky grin, lips glossy and puffy, cheeks and chin stained in your juices, eyes fully lust-blowen. If it was possible, Gojo would definitely have heart in his eyes right now.

You whine and buck your hips shifting closer to the edge of the couch, hands yanking his head back down into your core in attempt for any stimulation.

''You think I'll let you cum that easily after what you did huh?'' He stands up, veiny hands going down to discard his sweats. ''Sly cunt'' He mutters out, his eyes never leaving yours through your mask.

Once he was completly naked infront of you, your gaze drops down to his dick, the one you heard so many rumors about. He was big and he knew it, fucking bastard.

His tip was an angry red, already leaking with precum as it trailed down all the way to his base. He purses his lips staring at your leaking cunt as he runs his slender hand up and down his base smearing his precum, his eyes closing for a few seconds as his head tilts back revealing his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down by the thought of you squeezing his dick.

You part your lips to say something but he shoves his middle finger into your aching hole earning a loud moan from you. ''Ooh- fuck!'' You moan out arching your back, hand going to grip at his forearm.

''Hmm.. she seems ready, don’t ‘cha think pretty girl?'' He says grinning as he slowly takes his finger out admiring your slick, he brings it up to your mouth pressing it against your lips, you open your mouth and welcome his finger, sucking on it tasting yourself.

And just as you’re lost in sucking on his fingers like a lollipop, he's quick to start inching his pretty pink tip into your tight cunt, his gaze never leaving your pussy as he watches you take him in.

You gasp letting out muffled whimpers, eyes squeezing shut from the feeling, he wasn't even fully in yet and he stretcthed you out.

''Fuck- fuck you're tighttt woman'' He hissed out feeling you clamp down on him. ''L-lets actually make you scream huh? Ghostface wannabe'' He breathed out, removing his finger from your mouth, his thumb fidling with your aching clit as you melt against the couch.

He hadn't even fucked you yet and you were a shaking whining mess. Blabbing all sorts of stuff like ''So big- So full'' or just bunch of ''Fuck me fuck me fuck me''

And Gojo does. He shoves his hips forward, hands coming down to connect your ankles together as he lifts your legs- desperatley hugging them as he whimpers

''P-Pussy so so good- Lord- Fuck me hmphh'' He doesn't even give you time to adjust as he ruthlessly starts to slam into your poor cunt, your tongue lolls out as drool hands down your chin, your hands clutching onto the couch trying not to pass out from how good he stretched you out, his thick length hitting all the spots you didn't even know you had. Your mask barely hung on your face, tilted completly to the side only covering you eyes but revealing your flushed cheeks.

''T-Too much-- t's too much- gonna break my pussy'' You sob out, you could barely think straight anymore, all you wanted to do was to prank Satoru for not inviting you to his party- yet here you were folded on his couch as he uses your leaking cunt as a fleshlight.

His thursts were messy and sloppy, the only sound audible was your squelching hole, his whimpers and praises, and your dumbfound words.

''You gon make me cum babyyy'' He whines out as he leans forward, the back of your legs pressing against his chest, his hands holding your sides, tight enough to leave bruises on the skin. ''Squeezin me s'fuckin good- gon make me fucking cum'' He says pressing his forehead to your mask, his heavy breathing fanning your nose and lips.

''W-Wanna see that pretty face please pleaseeplease-'' He begs closing his eyes shut feeling you squeeze him so good. And once he hears no reply from you and only whines and moans, he takes it as a sign to remove your mask, and that was all he needed to loose the little sanity he had when he laid his eyes on you.

Your eyes rolled back, lashes wet, cheeks tear stained and drooling running down your lips and chin, that's all he had to see that had him spurting inside your gummy walls.

He pulls out of you and slams back in so fast that you don't even have time to procces your orgasm, your cunt squelching and gushing around him, hot liquid spraying everywhere all over his couch and abs. ''fuckfuckfuck fuck- a-ah g-gonna p-pass out'' You cry out, your legs were quivering- your brain absolutely numb, your nails digging into his biceps.

He doesn’t even care about the fact you just creamed on him, he only seemed to be lost in his pleasure, a thick white ring appearing around his base as he continues to tear into your senstive hole, his haw hanging loosely, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and neck slightly flushed red.

Not soon after, Gojo was painting your insides the same colour as his hair, breeding you over and over again until you were just a sobbing and babbling mess chanting his name over and over again- apologising over and over again.

And so was he- it would be hard to believe this was the same tough boy that got any girl he wants, right now he was just praising you and you cum stained leaking cunt repeatedly.

He pulls out of you panting, watching his thick load leak out of you as you squeeze around nothing, his fingers going down to smear his cum along your inner thighs and folds, being thankful for not inviting you to his party which ended in this.

You whine squirming away from him, body trembling and your breath hitching.

You both pant and heave trying to catch your breaths as he flops down beside you, a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

''Guess you really are apart of scream huh?''

©yonphilia 2023

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alphabetatoes · 2 months

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you'd make me pay? (jjk x reader)

aka the one where you joke w the men of jjk about paying to get affection (g. satoru + n. kento + k. choso + f. toji)

a.n.: reader is a comedienne n loves to mess w these men (the way the toji one actually happened to me 🙃)

c.w.: 18+, mdni

gojo

"C'mon- Wanna mark you up. Let everyone know you're mine." Satoru had spent practically the entire night trying to convince you to let him give you a hickey.

"Give me $10 and I'll think about it." The issue wasn't Gojo's insistence on marking you. It was his inability to adhere to subtlety. Yet he adored when he could see those red splotches of skin peaking out of your shirt collar.

Gojo stretches his body across your legs, his frame managing to span the entirety of the couch. "Toru, you're crushing me." You move the rogue white strands of hair out of his face.

"Please babe. Need you so bad." His bottom lip bulges as his whining continues.

You cave to his begging, giving him a light pat on the arm. "Fine, you big baby."

Gojo lifts himself from you and pulls you into his lap, a goofy smile strung across his face.. He takes a chaste kiss from your lips, reveling in his victory. You tilt your head to the side as he buries himself in the crook, nipping and sucking along your neck.

nanami

Sharing a bath was not only a way for the two of you to spend time with one another, but to also relax from the stress of the day. Kento had poured the two of you a glass of wine, and you lit a candle to aid in the tranquility.

You're sat on opposite sides of the tub, indulging in the warmth of the water. "C'mere. Want you to sit in my lap while I wash your hair." Kento's hands draw soothing circles on your ankles, gently tapping them to get your attention.

You sink further into the bubble bath, taking a sip of the wine. "I'm so comfy though." The idea of having to move your tired limbs on your own was a travesty. "I'll need at least $15 if you expect me to move on my own."

"How about I make you dinner and give you a massage after instead?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Nanami." You feign concentration as you mull over his proposal. "But you've got yourself a deal." You clink your wine glass into his, cheers-ing to the proposal.

Once you're seated on Kento's lap, his strong hands make idle work to wash your hair. You let a hand sink to his waist, stroking against his cock to help him relax as well.

choso

You were nestled into Choso's chest as the two of you watched a movie in the living room. One hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. His other hand laid rest on the top of your leg, which you let rest draped over his.

"Can I kiss you?" Choso's breath tickles your ear as he whispers his request.

"For a dollar." You purse your lips, waiting for Choso to lean in.

He reaches for the wallet in his back pocket, pulling out a bill. "I only have a $20- y'know what? Just keep it." As he shoves the bill into your hand, you gently push it away.

"I was only kidding, baby." You try not to laugh too hard as you quell his nerves. The sincerity staining Choso's face has you melting. You give him a sweet smile, grabbing onto his cheeks to pepper him with kisses.

toji

Toji was out of town on a job, leaving you unfulfilled for about a week. To help sate that aching feeling, you'd planned to video chat

“Your tits look great in that top.” Toji eyes you up and down, flashing a coy wink when he meets your gaze. “Think they’d look even better without it, though.”

Feeling playful, you give him an ultimatum. “Give me $5 and I’ll do it.”

“You’d make me pay?” His smirk turns into a pout, frustrated by your proposition. Whether he'd admit it or not, Toji missed you just as much. Craving for any glimpse of the body he had longed for.

“Now it’s $20.”

“Cut me a break, doll. Don’t need you actin’ like a brat when you got me all worked up like this.”

Toji pans the phone down to his waist. The material of his sweatpants is tented up as his dick strains against it. You flip him off and flash him a quick look at your tits, not quite giving into his demands.

He’d owe you big time once he got home.

#gojo satoru x reader #nanami kento x reader #choso kamo x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut

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ididdedurmom · 26 days

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More evil head cannons

I have silly ideas about the gang after the event of the story, everyone lives, except Bob

PONY:

Has a thousand yard stare when he zones out

Has the loudest, most disgusting, mucus filled cough ever

Actually really good at drawing

Has drawn every member of the gang at least twice

Loves physical touch, he leans on his friends when their sitting next to him.

Actually screams during horror movies, like loud genuine screams

Loves play fighting with Darry, like full on wrestling

Steve taught him how to drive

He either walks like a ghost or stomps, there is no in between

He can play one song on the guitar, and that’s it

His legs are super strong, so his kicks hurt really bad

He would be better at track, but his smoking habits hold him back

He feels jealous of Soda and Darry because they had more time with their parents

He and Darry have matching reading glasses

SODA:

He says “I’m just a girl” anytime he gets in trouble

He has used his pretty privilege to get out of being arrested multiple times

Despite how handsome he knows he is, he still feels super insecure about his looks

He steals from the DX station constantly

He and Steve spend hours gossiping about their customers once both of their shifts are over

A dog bit him when he was a kid, now he’s deathly afraid of them

He loves physical affection, hugging him is the best way to cheer him up

Absolute candy addict

Candy is the #1 item he steals from the DX

He broke his dominant hand once, and now his handwriting is permanently ruined

He reads insanely slow and monotone when he reads out loud

He either sleeps like a rock, or wakes up from the slightest sound, there is no in between

He lives in his flannel, that thing hasn’t been washed in literal years

He suffers from middle child syndrome, he knows his brothers love him, but they don’t pay enough attention to him

DARRY:

He hates his jobs, he knows he has to go but he can’t stand them

All of his coworkers are old and they treat him like a child (which he’s kind of okay with in a way)

He loves watching cartoons but he feels like he’d be wasting his time

He sneezes like a dad

He wakes up at 4 am and works out immediately

Loves compliments and words of affection

Doing favors is his love language

He has the whitest legs ever, he’s all tan on the top and snow white on the bottom

His tan ends where his pants start

Small bits of his hair are grey, he doesn’t know

He has a fear of abandonment

He is insanely flexible for a man of his size, like he can touch the floor standing up with ease

He hit a dog with his car once and cried for 2 hours straight

He loves cuddling on the couch with his brothers, it helps him relax

He despises Curly Shepard, he’s civil with Tim, but he HATES Curly

When he comes home from his ski trips with his old friends, he actually looks his age

A woman once assumed he was Pony’s father, and it made him die inside a little

He can’t stand Mother and Fathers Day

He was mad at Steve when he found out he taught Pony how to drive

TWO-BIT:

He and Dally bond by harassing women

He has a box full of things he’s stolen

His slight alcoholism stems from his father

He let’s his sister paint his nails, and he shows them off proudly

He gets his nails painted before rumbles

He watches soap operas with his mother every night

He can play the trumpet

He has never purchased a pack of cigarettes, only stolen

He listens to metal

When he passes Johnny’s house, he has to actively stop himself from walking in and beating Johnny’s parents half to death, especially his father

Its not that he doesn’t want a job, I mean he doesn’t, it’s that he thinks he’d only mess up whenever they had him do

He constantly forgets to brush his teeth

Pop and beer are the only things he drinks, he doesn’t touch water

He religiously wears Mickey Mouse merch, you will never catch him in a plain shirt

Baby Pony and him got along really well, he was kinda like Pony’s goofy cousin

Two-Bit and Darry have been friends since they were little kids

Two has no plans for his future, and it weighs on him

He broke both of his elbows once

His teachers have kinda given up on him, they just treat him like a bother instead of a student

STEVE:

He messes up Pony’s hair every chance he gets

He uses the most hair grease out of everyone

He has had the same comb for 3 years

He constantly smells like oil

The underside of his nails are always black, no matter how much he washes his hands

He and Soda have matching scars from a shared failed attempt to climb a barb wired fence

He is terrified of the police

He and Soda make your mom jokes at each other, despite neither of them having mothers

His voice is scarily deep when he wakes up

He and Two-Bit have an inside joke no one in the gang understands

He, Soda, and Two-Bit all have matching stick and poke tattoos

He hates his father, and by extension the fathers of Johnny and Two-Bit

He and Dally don’t hang out much, but when they do they are absolute menaces

Dally and him steal cars and hub caps together

He is genuinely upset by the size of his nose

JOHNNY:

He’s dyslexic

His handwriting is atrocious

His best subject is math

He and the gang all picked out stickers to put on his crutches

He loves sleeping around his friends

His hands are rough

He can’t stand the smell of beer, unless it’s one of the gang

He and Curly hate each other for literally no reason

Pony has slowly been teaching him to read better

No matter how much grease he puts in his hair, it won’t stay back

He hates going out in public because people always look at him funny

He hates looking at his burn scars

He, Dally, and Ponyboy watch sunsets together

He either sleeps at the Cutis’s house, Two-Bit’s house, Steve’s (very rarely), or Dallas’s place.

He’s not allowed to sleep in the lot anymore

He has tons of freckles, you just can’t see them against his skin

He loves sleeping outside when he wants to

He never wants children, he’s to scared he’ll become his father

His pain tolerance is so high that sometimes he won’t even notice when he gets injured

He likes how defensive Dallas is of him, makes him feel confident

He smokes marijuana with Dally sometimes, he’s super anxious when they do though because he doesn’t want to get arrested

DALLY:

He will not talk about his feelings

The cops forced him to go to therapy, it didn’t fix anything

He is amazing at lying

The police know him by name

He hasn’t told the gang much about the past other than where he came from and that he doesn’t talk to his folks

Darry nicknamed him “Rat”

He actually feels bad when Darry yells at him

He gets sun burns very quickly

He has his own personal stench

He doesn’t want Johnny to end up like him

He cried for 3 hours straight when he found out Johnny was still alive, it is his most embarrassing moment

He chugs drinks insanely fast

He can’t read very well

He needs glasses but he thinks he’d look like a wimp if he had any

Even though he knows he could have an asthma attack from coughing to hard, he still doesn’t carry his inhaler

He was happy when he thought he was going to die

Then he woke up and had an epiphany about life, it didn’t do to much, but now he knows death isn’t the only option

He proudly shows off the burn marks on his arm

He loves pushing Johnny around in his wheelchair

He listens to outlaw music and Frank Sinatra

He loves horror movies

He toned down his bad behavior once he got out of the hospital, he’s still a dick though

That’s it or whatever. I hope you like them, I’m sorry if some of them don’t make sense. I’m just so silly. I apologize for my horrible grammar lol. Feel free to tell me some of your head cannons!! :D

#the outsiders #johnny cade #dally winston #two bit mathews #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #steve randle #headcanon #silly guy

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howlonomy · 2 months

Note

How would Starlo's family react to this new monster kid that is a cross between a fox, bird, and whatever Starlo is? Cause I'm just saying, Clover does share his tail, side head things, and yellow spots with Starlo, so it's safe to assume that Clover related to Starlo, from their perspective at least.

Or do they already know about the whole situation?

Either way, I'm imagining Starlo's parents looking at Clover and thinking "this is probably the closest we'll get to grandkids" and just start doting him.

IM SO GLAD U ASKED ABOUT THEM BC I WAS THINKING HOW SWEET THEY WOULD BE!!!! and then i got to draw it >:]

they are so smitten with clover after they get introduced by starlo. they kind of met with clover in the underground and after starlo told them all what happened, they respected clover a lot and saw the change they made to ceroba and star. so once theyre back they’re like welp. new grandchild!

orion (i think thats his name?) is like the older cousin u have that just thinks the younger kids are cringe. he cares but does not show it at all. crestina is NOT letting starlo say anything bad to clover. solomon big fun grandpa :]

#asked and answered #monster clover au #mcau doodle #mcau lore #i imagine the talk between star and his family is like #‘they look a lot like you and ceroba and martlet. did you guys get together? and you decided to make a child without letting us know??’#‘was it an accident. please be honest’#starlo: what. what. what are you talking about #(i imagine monsters are made through magic. so kids can have multiple parents. i cant remember if there was a canon way but this is my au #AND POLYAMORY KIDS ARE REAL HERE 💥)#also feeling the regret of making starlo lizardlike trying to design these guys on the fly

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portgasdwrld · 8 months

Note

Remember those og youtube challenges where beauty gurus had their s/os doing their makeup? Ok so maybe the crew were invited to some luxurious island or something and reader injured their arm prior to this event, so entrusted their beauty routine to the strawhats? I know nami & robin won’t let us down, but I’m so ready for the guys to mess us up. 💄 - 🩵

Hii love, how are you!!? Love the idea once again🫶🏻🫶🏻

📂Strawhats doing your make-up for an event

Luffy

He was so excited to learn about what make up was and how to help you with it!

He was listening to your explanation with big eyes and attentive ears

When it came to actually do it, he tried his best to focus, but it ended up looking goofy asf 💀

The eyebrows were overdrawn, the eyeshadow was not blended at all, the eyeliner wing was wonky

You looked like a fun experience of make up that’s for sure, a kid drawing at best

You didn’t want to hurt his feeling telling him it looked bad, so you said it was fine

He left satisfied proud of himself

It looked better done by you even with your handicap 😭

He tried tho 😭🫶🏻

Usopp

He was hella confident, saying he knew some skills from Kaya, so he totallyyyy got it.

The moment he got his hand on your make-up your brushes, he totally freaked out and didn’t know where to start. He forgot everything she taught him.

He admitted he was lost with embarrassment, but instantly relaxed when you chuckled reassuring him and helped him through it.

He actually really did a great job. Well expected from the artist and snipper of the crew, his abilities for details didn’t disappoint.

You ask him to help you from now on, when you’re having a bad make-up day🚶🏻‍♀️

Zoro

Man was lost lost. He glared at you like “why the fuck are you asking me?”

He said no and walked away, but you whined telling him the others were busy getting ready and he was already done so it was the least he could do.

He stayed firm on his position, but only agreed when you brought up, you could bribe Nami into reducing his debts towards her.

Kinda worked?

He did a horrible job :/

We love you Zoro but make up isn’t quite for you😔

Sanji

He was sooooo down for it. He was smiling so hard and was lowkey dreaming about being able to help you with your make-up routine.

When you asked, he accepted immediately, even cutting you off mid-sentence

He was already on his way to prepare some snacks for you while he helps you out.

He was listening to you very carefully, not wanting to miss out on any of your indications and ruin it.

He was so good and gentle with it?? He was blushing like crazy, being so close to your face, but he got the job done.

He would softly ask you if this was alright and if you liked it. Always asking for feedback so it’s at your liking. Never felt annoyed when you asked to redo something. He was so nice and cool about it which made the experience so enjoyable.

You loved it sm & gave him a big hug that got him on a good mood for the rest of the day☹️💕

Nami

When you asked her, she totally understood on the spot and sat you on a chair close to her.

Before she started, she asked you what was your vision and what you wanted basically.

She gave you advice on what would look best on your facial features, and what would go along with your outfit.

It felt like a professional session, she super focused

Y'all spoke about fashion the whole time and she was so enthusiastic and hyped about the whole thing

She gossiped about who could possibly be there at the event and if there was gonna be anything worth doing, stealing

the end result was so good, it was even better than you imagined it

10/10 would recommend again

Robin

She nodded and asked you to sit somewhere

After she got a general idea of what you wanted she started to work on your make-up at first silently, trying to build the base

As she saw time was running out, she used her devil fruit power to make it quicker and do both side at the same time.

You made a joke about her power being useful and she chuckled before agreeing

she started to speak about her DF and how as she grew up, she kept finding uses to it

It was really a nice and almost healing time

Robin felt like an older sister doing your make up as Nami had more of that best friend vibe

She even fixed your hair to make sure your look was completed and proposed you look through her accessories if you wanted

love her !!!

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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

Text

𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟖𝟎'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: mention of one slur, (that is reclaimable don't come for me twitter), homophobia, death, etc

↳ song: american pie—don mclean

masterlist!

• Compared to the old giants that were London and Rome, Derry was an infant in terms of age

• But it didn't feel that way. The whole town had this sort of tint to it, like the stain of coffee on white paper—or the quality of an old polaroid that had been stuffed away and forgotten

• You had lived there most of your life. Gone to Derry Elementary, Derry Middle, would go on to attend Derry High, and would probably travel on to the closest college you could find to the area—unless something drastically changed that, of course

• It was almost like the whole place had a grip on its residents. And it wasn't like the comforting grip of your mother's hand as she led you through the grocery store. It was a harsher one. A cold and clamy grip, holding you tightly in place until you rotted away working a minimum wage job with no future in sight

• So thank god you had stumbled across the losers in your last year of middle school and changed just about everything

• It had been the last week of school when you had stupidly picked a fight with the biggest knothead in school and his gang of pimple faced idiots, figuring that if you were going to die anyway, might as well do it young

• Your school books had gone sprawling across the freshly waxed school hallway one fateful afternoon in May, the disaster courtesy of Derrys biggest doucuebag Henry Bowers

• In fact, you had told him he was such a thing to his face, which would be the reason you were currently being subjected to the pleasure of watching as Henry and his goons ripped up all of your school papers in front of everyone

• Math homework, eat your heart out

• You didn't, however, expect a stuttering voice to speak up from your left not long after watching the science paper you had worked so hard on get ripped to shreds

• "Guh-guh-guh-get fu-fucked Bowers!" A lanky kid spat out from your left, drawing most people's attention over to his blazing brown eyes instead of Henry's ugly mud colored ones

• You recognized your knight in shining armor, so to speak, as the infamous stuttering Bill Denbrough. He wasn't an unfamiliar face to you—in fact, you were pretty sure the two of you had homeroom together. But until that moment you'd never given him a second thought beyond asking to borrow a pencil

• Bill wasn't alone, either. Three more kids stood idly behind him, each one looking more anxious than the last. You'd later learn all their names to be Stan, Eddie, and Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier—the man of a hundered voices as he'd introduce himself. But right then, they were just more people to add to this already overcrowded shitshow

• "Muh-my buh-buh-bad Billy." Henry mocked Bill's stutter poorly, crossing his eyes crudely while he did it. "Duh-did I mess with one of yuh-your fag fruh-fruh-fruh-friends?"

• The shrill chorus of giggles that his friends let out at his words were like nails on a chalkboard to you

• "Takes one to know one." Richie had mummbled under his breath sourly, pushing the thick glasses he wore up his nose anxiously. The only people who heard him couldn't help but break up into a fit of sudden giggles—who of which just so happened to be you and Bill

• Both of you were found sporting black eyes the next day

• Ever since that odd school day, you had found yourself spending more and more time with each of them

• Riding bikes with Bill in his street as you got left in the dust by him and Silver, listening as Eddie rambled on nervously about all of the weird sicknesses he had gotten, furiously smashing buttons on arcade games in an attempt to beat Richie at least once, helping Stan organize all of his comics by color and alphabetical order—all became a part of your summer routine

• You quickly became a part of the losers club. Another peice to the odd puzzle you all made together. And you'd be lying if you didn't say it felt damn good

• It was only after Ben and the others showed up that things began to get both better and worse

• For starters, you had begun to see red balloons and dead kids everywhere—a detail that would later become a much bigger issue

• But you also found yourself making three entire new friends, which including Stan, Eddie, Richie and Bill, was the most you'd ever had

• Hot summer evenings down in the barrens and, eventually, the clubhouse now had a new sense of comradery to it

• You enjoyed talking with Beverly about certain book series the both of you kept up with and what songs she could play on the piano. Asking Mike about all the adventures he had gone on after hard days of farm work became a highlight of your Saturdays. Pouring over books in the library with Ben quickly became one of your favorite activities, the two of you sharing recommendations with each other. Even the librarian eventually got old of the two of you whispering excitedly to each other about story lines and character development

• Occasionally Bill or Richie would bring another kid down to the barrens to play with. It would be fun, but you all were thinking the same thing throught it all—that they were not a part of the club. That title was reserved for only the eight of you. And it would stay that way

• Together, all of you would eventually have to beat a common enemy together, sacrificing parts of yourself with it. But for now, you were content to watch as sticky syrup from popsicle sticks dripped down into your hands while you all walked to the movies, laughing about god knows what, feeling like nothing else in the world mattered but each other

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maidragoste · 2 years

Text

Marriage

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary: Neither Aegon nor you are happy in your marriage. But after a talk things change.

Tw: incest and there are mentions of sex but it is not descriptive.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Once again Aegon had arrived at his chambers drunk and as before you helped him take off his shoes and put on his nightgown. You were tired of this routine, if it weren't for the fact that you were ashamed of your husband's state, you would call the maids so that they will take care of undressing him. Besides, you didn't want to hear him flirting with a maid. It was bad enough knowing that he had just returned from Flea Bottom.

"I didn't want to marry you"

You felt anger bubble up in your body as you watched Aegon cry. You hated your parents for forcing you to marry a capricious child. Because Aegon wasn't a man to you, he was still the same teenager who only knew how to get drunk, complain, and whimper for attention. In the past, you had felt sorry for how he seemed desperate for a little love from your mother. You had wanted to be a good wife, to show him that it was enough for you, but he kept embarrassing you by sleeping with servants and whores, so the pity you felt disappeared and turned into resentment. You didn't expect Aegon to love you, and you didn't love him that way either, but you did expect him to respect you. You were sure that even Larys Strong would make a better husband than your brother.

Damn the Targaryens and their stupid tradition.

"I didn't want to marry you either" you replied scathingly "Do you really think I would choose you among all men?" You balled your hands into fists trying to stifle your anger "I married you only out of duty. You are not the only unhappy one in this marriage But at least I tried, I did my part to make it not so miserable."

Aegon knew it was true. It wasn't your fault he's such an idiot. Before the engagement the two got along well, he could remember how you laughed at his jokes and how you always helped him when he got into trouble. But after he found out you were getting married he started ignoring you and the jokes stopped being funny because he kept making fun of you and complaining about you.

He felt guilty thinking about the number of times he'd turned down spending time with you just to go to Flea Bottom. He specifically remembered an occasion when you had prepared a picnic in the gardens just for the two of you, how you used to do when you were kids. He remembered the disappointment on your face when he told you he'd be busy. Now that he thought about it, after that you never invited him to spend time with you again.

"Who would you choose?" asked the prince curiously.

"What?"

"If you could have chosen who to marry, who would you have chosen?"

"Jacaerys" you answered only because you were sure that tomorrow I would not remember anything from this conversation. He never seemed to remember what they talked about when he was drunk.

But you were wrong, Aegon remembered everything so the next time Rhaenyra and his nephews came to King's Landing he watched carefully how you acted around Jacaerys. You seemed more relaxed around him, your smile seemed more natural, your laughter did not stop ringing in the room and Aegon was sure that the two of you would have danced all night together if it weren't for Baela Velaryon asking to dance with her fiancée. You sat down next to your husband again, you made an effort to put on a mask so as not to show your sadness, but Aegon noticed. Then he made a decision, perhaps you two would never love each other like a normal marriage but he would make an effort, you had done your part and now it was his turn to do it for both of you. He didn't want you to be miserable. He knew that if he worked hard could both become happy.

Aegon got up from the table drawing everyone's attention, they were already prepared to hear him say something stupid. But instead

"Would you dance with me?" he asked, offering his hand, catching you off guard. The surprise in your eyes made Aegon wonder when you two last danced together.

"Of course" you took his hand and let him guide you to the track.

Aegon linked his arm through yours. "I remember you liked this song when we were kids," he said as they circled.

"I didn't think you'd remember" you admitted not knowing how to feel.

“Oh, impossible to forget. Whenever they played this song you forced Aemond or me to dance with you” he said with a small smile at the memory “I even remember that at a party the musicians repeated the song three times”

"Don't make me remember, it's embarrassing" you felt your cheeks heat up "They only stopped because mother told them to stop or they wouldn't play again for the rest of their lives"

“I think it was cute. You always got happy every time you heard it."

That was the beginning of Aegon's change. In the days that followed he stopped going to the flea bed and flirting with the maids instead, he started spending more time with you. Some days he would invite you to fly with him and Sunfyre through King's Landing, the both always compete for who could fly the fastest. On other days you two walked through the gardens or he joined your embroidery while he made you laugh by telling you the latest gossip he had found out. Even so, he kept drinking, but you didn't seem bothered by it and also he didn't seem to need it as much as before. Family gatherings weren't so terrible anymore now that he could be distracted by you. And sex was no longer an uncomfortable act, it was no longer about duty and looking for children to continue the bloodline. No, now it's fun and passionate. You two were discovering each other's bodies, discovering that the other liked it. Damn, how he loved the sweet sounds you made when he ate your pussy. He also loved how you rode him. Now both always broke their fast late because neither of them wanted to get out of bed.

Things were really going well until Jacaerys and Baela's wedding came around. Aegon feared to see sadness and longing in your eyes again when you saw Jacaerys. Now that his feelings were deeper, it would hurt him a lot to see how you kept yearning for his niece. So he was relieved when he found neither sadness nor longing in your eyes. What's more, your attention was completely focused on him. You noticed that he was somewhat tense so you began to criticize the clothing of some of the guests, making him laugh. Then you took him out to dance and while they were spinning you told him that you were expecting your first child. Aegon was so happy that he picked you up and started spinning around, not caring about attracting attention.

It had definitely been worth the effort, he thought.

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cursedkeyboard · 5 months

Text

Babies shouldn't grow up ☆ Jason Todd & GN!Reader (PT.3)

What does Jason do after feeding and giving a home to the brat he stole from the slums of Gotham? Raise the kid lovingly like he wished he'd been raised, of course. [PART ONE ♤ PART TWO ♤ PART THREE ♤ PART FOUR ♤ PART FIVE ♤ PART SIX]

Pairings: Platonic Jason Todd & Child GN!Reader

In the beginning, living together wasn't very smooth

Despite your shared pasts, the immediate fondness from Jason, your eagerness for affection and love, you two were still very much strangers

You were hesitant and skittish, often sticking to the guest room Jason said it was yours, since for your entire life you mostly lived by yourself

Jason didn't actually know how to deal with a vulnerable and traumatized child, he wasn't Dick, he didn't have an innate charm that allowed you to be drawn to him easily

But that didn't stop him from trying

Every day, Jason made sure to get you out of your room to eat

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner

Eating was non-negotiable, even if you were used to only a bite or two a day, he wanted you to eat what you could

You felt sick for the first few days, your body unused to so much water and nutrients, causing it to think something was wrong

Jason almost went insane with worry, rubbing your back, carrying you around, and even refusing to go out when you told him you were fine

From your vomiting, you were anything but

Despite his fear and anxiety, Jason sat down to google all your symptoms and treatments when you finally fell asleep after throwing up again

Pushing the multiple deadly diseases and cancers aside, he learned that your body was just a little overwhelmed and all you two had to do was increase your meals little by little instead of shoving food down your throat

Though he still insisted on you drinking at least five cups of water every day

Then, maybe a week or two later once you two were a little more comfortable around each other

You not feeling like a bother anymore and Jason not eating himself with anxiety

The two of you started spend more time together

Jason cut some of his vigilante work, told Bruce to fuck off when he was questioned, and made sure to take you out to buy a year's worth of clothing using the old man's credit card

You started clinging a bit to him, asking him to teach you how to read and write, seeking validation when you managed to understand a whole page without needing help, asking about his life and past

And Jason always made sure to be honest with you, about the good and the bad because he wanted you to trust him

From experience, he knew that keeping things from you would only cause problems down the line

He'd tell you about his days in the slums while preparing a meal, you at his hip helping him put things in the pot

He'd talk about being a Robin with both fondness and bitterness while he helped with your hair, having done so much research to make sure he treated your type of hair correctly

He'd confess about what happened with the Joker, keeping it slightly less gory than it was

About his mother and Batman

About his death, hell, the pit, the after

He'd tell you everything as the days went on

And you'd sit by his side, cuddling with him, hugging him close when his voice trembled

Jason's hold would often tighten around you when he talked about something that made him sick to his stomach

Especially when it was a story about almost losing someone

Like he thought you'd disappear even in his arms

Like that, the trust between the two of you only grew as weeks turned into months and soon enough those months turned into a year

Jason had returned to his normal patrol hours once you were finally caught up with your studies and managed to put you in middle school

You were so damn excited and Jason knew exactly why

For a kid who was deprived of seemingly boring things since forever, school is a place filled with knowledge and wonder

The very first thing you did when you got home was show him a drawing of your hero the art teacher asked your class to make

Jason cried when he saw a poorly sketched version of Red Hood

He put it up in the fridge after printing it twice

You two definitely started matching, by the way

Jackets, shirts, shorts, hats, even phone cases

Jason never thought he'd be so lame as to buy stuff like that but once the two of you wore the exact same ugly christmas sweater, it was over for him

It was a little embarrassing, especially for you

But when you two went out with the same jackets and an elderly couple complimented the father and kiddo duo, you couldn't help but love it too

It was jarring for Jason, for sure

He didn't really consider himself your father, maybe your guardian or your older brother, but... it wasn't too bad

No, in fact, he kind of liked it

You are his kid

God, the restaurant dates

He'd take you to every food place in Gotham

From the ones that made you two throw up for the entire weekend

To the ones that made Bruce call him after spending eight hundred dollars on golden lobsters

It would be no surprise if you ended up liking burgers the most though

Like kid, like father

If you had any problem in school, Jason wouldn't try to hide away

He got himself a fake identity for the sole purpose of making himself your guardian through more than illegal terms

Doesn't even matter if he was in the middle of a meeting with other rogues, heroes or even his family

Jason would drop everything for you

Especially when you punched the fuck out of little Timmy for saying something bigoted

The dean and the teacher would probably try to make him scold you, telling the two of to you that this violent behavior is unacceptable and should not be rewarded

And Jason would look at them, at little Timmy's infuriated mother, and tell them that if Timmy didn't want to get his shit rocked, he should've kept his mouth shut

Of course, he also threatened them saying he'd let all of Gotham know that they protected and encouraged bigoted behavior from ten year olds

Needless to say, little Timmy didn't bother you after that day

And you also got ice cream after getting a two day suspension

"Did he make a noise?"

"Squealed like a fucking pig."

"That's my fucking kid."

Jason wouldn't let you act spoiled

Sure, he'd spoil you rotten, give you everything he wanted as a kid and what you want

But he knows the important of humility

That doesn't mean he'll let anyone ever try to bully you, though

To be continued...

#jason todd #red hood #red hood x you #jason todd x gn!reader #platonic jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #platonic red hood x reader #red hood x gender neutral reader #platonic #jason todd x y/n

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lumosinlove · 6 months

Text

Vaincre

June part i

Hope you all enjoy! Maybe all of Finn's superstitions in this chapter can go towards helping me beat this cold I've got...

Also, it's beginning to look a lot like ficmas...doo doo doo doo doo...:)

Ain’t it funny how I’ve wanted this all my life?

It started with a no look pass. That’s when Remus felt the buzz. Sirius had nearly put one in from James, who had kept his eyes straight ahead, drawing Saint’s attention. And it had almost worked. At least it had brought the promising feeling of a win. The click of the team. Remus shouldn’t be thinking like that. They were six minutes away from the first period's horn and this game changed at the drop of a hat. Logan had collided with Kota at one point, and there was something there now. Quiet hostility. A they were mine first type of deal. Remus could see it all over Logan’s face, no matter how much Kota loomed over him.

Now the Rangers had a high sticking penalty. Remus took his mouth guard out as the whistle blew and shoved it into his glove. Sirius was on the other side of the ice, on the tail of one of the referees and talking a mile a minute, gesturing to James and his bloody lip. There was a kid at the glass just behind him with a sign that said Nuts for Knutty! and he was still clutching the puck Leo had thrown him earlier. Remus almost wished the game would just pause for a moment so he could take it in properly. If this was to be the last game of his first season in the NHL, he wanted to remember it.

“Ouch,” Remus said to James as they circled close for the face-off.

“You bet,” James said, dabbing at his mouth.

Coach kept him on for the penalty kill. Sirius faced off against Zibanejad and Remus darted backwards when he won it. It had that game six feeling: All of them just wanting it to be over already, the slog of knowing that, if the Lions wanted it to go their way, they had one more full game stretch after this one to push through. Maybe more. Play-offs meant there was no over-time, and no shoot-out, just endless periods until someone gave in.

The puck was stuck in their zone and Thomas was beginning to look gassed. Kasey was up in the net, shifting with every ebb and flow of the Rangers’ passing. Remus poked the puck out from Kakko’s grasp and hoped it was clean—he’d nearly felt like he’d hooked it, but the whistle didn’t go. He managed to get it out of the zone and saw Thomas and Olli race off towards the bench gratefully.

He and Sirius didn’t say anything once they were seated next to each other, just caught their breath and watched. Pascal delivered a sound slap-shot, but it went just wide. Logan got the rebound, easy, and sent it to Fox. The horn went just before they put anything real together.

“D’accord,” Sirius said, tapping Remus’ thigh. “We’re not good, but we’re not bad.”

“What an endorsement.”

Remus handed off his gloves off to be dried as they walked down the tunnel. He could hear fans shouting their names as they passed by the glass that looked into the VIP lounge. There was a small girl standing there in a BLACK jersey. Remus watched as Sirius smiled down at her and touched his glove to the glass. The girl grinned and a woman who Remus thought must be her mother promptly burst into tears.

“Jesus.” Thomas laughed from behind him.

“Just me, actually,” Sirius said, and Thomas shoved him.

The locker room already had music playing so Remus guessed that Coach had decided to let them be, or perhaps Sirius had requested a players only break. Remus sat back in his stall and yanked his helmet off. He cut through the beat up tape of his stick with a short blade and sent a look towards Leo, who had a towel around his neck. He was leaned in close to Kasey, who was talking quietly to him.

“Kind of thought Coach was going to say something,” Thomas said. “Is Cap…”

“I didn’t hear him ask,” Remus said, but looked towards Sirius. He was glancing towards the door, too. It opened, and Remus expected Arthur or one of the assistants, but to his surprise, Alex O’Hara slipped through. He was in full gear, only a backwards hat replacing his helmet.

“Oh,” Remus breathed. He looked towards Kasey and Leo. Oh.

“What the hell,” Thomas said. He opened his mouth, obviously ready to shout something at Alex, but Remus put a hand on his thigh to stop him. Thomas looked over at him. “What?”

Kasey had already seen Alex and Remus watched his chest rise and fall in a quick, uneven breath. He put a hand on Leo’s knee, gave him a short smile, and then stood just as Alex reached him. Alex put a hand on his waist, but they said nothing. Kasey simply held his gaze for a long moment, and then turned to the room.

Oh.

“Hey, boys,” Kasey said, voice raised. “Boys, can I…” He’d taken some of his padding off, his hair pushed back from his face. “Can I talk for a second?”

It took everyone a moment to quiet down. They were a little surprised, maybe. Kasey wasn’t one to make speeches, even if it was a players only meeting, but he walked slowly to the center of the locker room.

“Sorry,” he smiled, but it was shaky. “I know we’re all focused on the W. I’ll be quick.”

“Don’t worry, Bliz. What’s up?” Sirius said, and Remus saw that his gray eyes were already somber. They darted to Remus’. If Remus had to guess, Kasey had asked Sirius to keep the room clear for him. Maybe even to have someone get Alex.

“Well. Thanks, Cap.” He looked around at them all. “Look, I know our season’s not over, boys, but I just wanted to say…God.” Kasey cleared his throat, looked down so his hair fell back into his face some. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Kase,” Alex said softly from just behind him.

Remus couldn’t describe how difficult it was, watching Kasey, Kasey of all people, get choked up. Watch him work to speak around tears. He watched some of the others realize what was probably about to happen. Thomas’ face fell. Leo stood, like he was going to go to Kasey.

“There, uh,” Kasey cleared his throat, tried for a smile. “There isn’t much I love more than you guys. Really. These years have just been the best of my life.”

“Bliz…” James breathed, took a step forward. The realization was slow around the room, but it was there. This had been in the air for so long that it felt strange to see it properly.

“Really, they have.” Kasey said. “I mean…God, lock me in this room, see if I put up a fight. I won’t. But. But it’s not good for me. I don’t want out of this game, I really don’t, I just—my body can’t do it anymore, boys. And I have to see that. I have to respect it.”

Remus put a hand to his chest. It was the strangest thing, he couldn’t remember ever having any sort of conversation like this one with his college teammates. Sometimes, he thought he had forced himself to forget moments from that time. Pushed them out of his mind. Now, he tried to remember. He tried to think of saying goodbye, or good game, or even being in the locker room with his sling. He couldn’t remember, but he wanted to help Kasey and so he tried. All that came was a blur of pain and dark rooms and a young, young Julian.

“I just…I have a feeling that…” Kasey wiped at his eyes. “Fuck. I know I shouldn’t have done this in the middle of a fucking—elimination game, oh my God.” It drew a small laugh out of most of the team. “You know, this isn’t gonna be our final game of the season, no fucking way, but it could be mine because it’s hard out there and—” His voice pitched up and he cleared his throat. “And I didn’t want it to happen, I didn’t want it to end, without everyone knowing, which is probably—maybe at one point in my life I would’ve called that selfish but I don’t think it is now.”

And then Leo was at his side, hand on his shoulder. He was crying, too, blue eyes vivid.

Kasey smiled and wrapped an arm around him. “And look whose fucking hands you’re in, all right? You’re good as golden.”

There was a heartbeat of silence. No one seemed to know what to say. Leo hugged Kasey, eyes closed and fisting the back of his jersey. Sirius walked forward next, and it seemed to break the spell.

“Don’t tempt me about locking you in here, Bliz,” Thomas said as he strode forward. “I just might do it.”

Kasey laughed as Thomas pulled him into a tight hug. He thumped Kasey on the back. “You going back out with us, right?”

“I want to,” Kasey said. “I think I can.”

“We’ll get this for you,” Sirius said. He put a hand on Kasey’s shoulder. “This is still yours, all of it. No matter what. You know that.��

Kasey looked at Sirius for a long moment. “Cap. Thank you. I don’t think my career would be the same without you.”

Sirius brow drew together and he shook his head. “Non. It’s all you, man.”

His eyes went behind Sirius. “And Dumo…” He pressed his lips together, unable to finish. “I…You’re…”

“Bliz,” Pascal smiled softly. “I’m probably not too far behind you in this case. I know that.”

Remus walked forward and put a hand on Sirius’ back.

“All I can say is that it’s an honor to play with you at our backs,” Pascal said.

Someone let out a whoop, and then they room was sort of clapping, sort of crying, and at least one strand of tension broke.

“I’m feeling a group hug,” Thomas said. “No, Cap, don’t pull that look on me. C’mon. Everyone, get your ass up.”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh, tearful as it was as he let Sirius wrap him up on one side, Thomas on the other. Timmy, Olli, Kota, Leo, Kris, Pascal.

There was a little jostle after a moment as a final person enthusiastically joined.

“Alex,” Pascal said without opening his eyes. “You should absolutely be here, but get your elimination game Ranger blue out of our hug.”

“My bad.”

Finn didn’t like being home alone. He didn’t like that he couldn’t watch the game. He didn’t like saying goodbye to Leo and Logan, knowing they weren’t going to the same place—or even if they were, to different teams. He wanted to be in the room. He wanted to play, he wanted the burn of his muscles. He wanted to press his shoulder up against Logan’s, or Alex’s, he wanted to defend Kasey and fight anything that even touched Leo.

Instead he was sitting on the couch with all the lights off and the shades down, listening to the crackle of the radio broadcast come from his computer with the screen turned away from him. He was waiting for period two to start, not in the tunnel to the ice, but when a a plate of what felt like the first truly solid food he’d eaten in weeks. Logan had given him a big kiss when he’d asked for Leo’s spicy chicken and rice burritos. Leo and hummed away happily in the kitchen making them and served him one with a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Okay, being taken care of wasn’t that hard.

His phone rang and he knew it was his mom without having to check.

“Hi,” he said around a mouthful, flipping the screen down towards the couch.

“Hi, baby. Just checking in. Fast game, huh? You doing okay? Eating dinner?”

“Mhm, I’m good. I mean—you know. As good as I can be. Listening.”

“Aw, sweetheart. I know.” He could hear the buzz of the stadium behind her, picked out Natalie’s laugh. “I know this isn’t how you pictured it at all.”

Finn sat back against the couch. “Yeah. Did you see Al?”

“For a second before the game. And Logan. He said that if we talk to you during the game to say he loves you.”

Finn smiled. “Mm. Good. How’s Leo looking on the bench?”

“Oh, they showed just the cutest shot of him like a little turtle—well, no a very tall turtle, with his mouth and nose in his jersey. But he seems good. Kasey seems good, too. He’s made some incredible saves.”

“They sound incredible,” Finn said. “Got your whiskey?”

She laughed. “Oh, you know it. Oh, baby, we’re starting. Gotta go, but I love you very much all right? Your dad, says so, too.”

“Love ya, bud!” came his dad’s voice from a little farther away.

Finn, honestly, felt a little choked up. He blinked the tears away and looked around the dim room. They would only make his head ache. “Love you guys, too.”

He heard the phone disconnect and rested his head back against the couch, suddenly not so hungry anymore. He wrapped his plate up for later and squinted an eye shut at the bright refrigerator light. He put the kettle on—could nothing be easy while using one hand?—and steeped some mint tea. When he came back to the couch, throwing a blanket over his legs, the commercials were over.

No, let’s be honest, if Kasey Winter hadn’t made those saves in the first—I don’t know where the Lions would be right now. Sitting in their dressing room and making fucking long summer plans, that’s for sure. Instead, this is a close game, a competitive game, and most importantly, both teams are still in the game.

I agree with you, Matt. Let’s go to the bench now, for an interview with Rangers’ Logan Tremblay.

“Oh, hi, baby,” Finn said softly.

Thanks, Matt. This is Cassie Baker here with Logan Tremblay—

Finn sat bolt upright. He knew—He knew that voice. Cassie. God. Cassie fucking Baker.

Logan, how do you think this period is going to shape up based on how aggressive that first period was so far?

“Holy fuck.” Finn couldn’t help but laugh. “Holy fuck?”

To Logan’s credit, he sounded just as shocked, as if he’d simply turned around and found Cassie there waiting for him. Cassie Baker. Finn remembered bouncing blonde curls and that god-damn Greek temple of the girl’s sorority house at school. Logan kissing her neck in the hallway. Harz, can we have the room for a bit? Coming back from a cancelled class and hearing—

Finn put a hand over his mouth and laughed again. “Okay. Oh man.”

I think we are two teams that want this badly, Logan was saying. Oh, he sounded so good. It’s going to be a fight, but hopefully entertaining for the fans.

How does it feel to possibly have the chance to eliminate your old team?

“Oh no,” Finn let himself fall sideways into the couch, right onto his shoulder. “Fuck.”

Logan’s laugh, disbelieving, still surprised, filled the room. Um. Intense.

Thanks for the time.

I—thanks.

Finn sat back up, holding his shoulder. Never had he ever wanted to talk to them more. He wanted to see Logan’s face. He wanted to see Leo with his chin tucked down against his chest. He didn’t want Leo sitting on the bench alone all game, watching the others work.

Zibanejad and Black on the face-off. The Rangers have a majority of these under their belts now, but Black wins in and it’s knocked back to Lupin. Remus Lupin, quite the surprise, the secret weapon, there are Olympic rumors, and Walker brings it right to the net—and scores! Oh, this game finally has some action!

“That makes one of us,” Finn said aloud to the room. He wasn’t sure he usually talked to himself this much. Maybe it was only that he couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d been alone. The hospital room, he guessed, but even that had been for mere minutes, not hours. He tugged the blanket farther up his chest and pressed his nose into his sweatshirt. Leo’s. He held his mug close to his face. The mint. Logan’s.

Dumais to Reyes, oh, in a near miss! It’s pitched out of the zone by Fox and picked up again by Goodrow—

Finn winced as the thought that he didn’t care who won the game filtered into his mind. He just wanted them to come home.

Luke caught onto Logan’s look the second he was sat back on the bench, breathing hard.

“What,” Luke said. “What the fuck’s that look?”

Logan wasn’t sure where to begin. He risked another glance towards the ice tunnel. Cassie was standing there with the cameraman. She looked the same. Her hair was a shiny dark blonde, blue eyes bright, forget-me-not. She carried herself the same. She was talking fast to the cameraman, directing him with her hand that wasn’t holding her microphone. Confident. Easy. She dressed differently. Smart, well-tailored navy suit that made her short frame look taller. Their eyes met, and she sent him another nervous smile.

“Fuck,” Logan said. He flashed a quick one back and turned away.

“What?” Luke asked.

Paul, Rangers PR, had said nothing more than, Tremblay, you’re ESPN’s interview and then Logan had looked up to find…

Hi, Logan. Yeah, probably should’ve warned you a little better… It’s been a while.

Luke punched him in the arm. “Logan.”

“Ex-girlfriend.” Logan swallowed.

“Girlfriend?” Alex asked, perking up. “You, girlfriend?”

“Ouais.”

“Oh my God, show me.”

“The ESPN reporter.” Luke and Alex both whipped their heads around and Logan closed his eyes. “Don’t look.”

Alex ignored him. “The blonde?”

“She’s cute,” Luke said.

“Stop looking.”

“Didn’t she just interview you?” Alex asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you know?”

“Obviously not,” Luke said. “Dude, you look fucking rattled, what did she do to you?”

Logan didn’t really want to think on it now. They had been good. Happy. For months, really. But she hadn’t had all of him, and she’d figured that much out quickly, if not who the rest of his heart was with.

“It’s more… It’s more what I did to her.” Logan shared a glance with Alex. “Or what I felt like I did to her.”

“Huh,” Luke said. “This is transcending bench talk.”

“Ooh,” Alex said. “Big word.”

“Fuck off.” Luke smiled a little, though. “Can you play with your ex-girlfriend watching, Tremzy?”

Logan hit Luke’s helmet with his stick. “Fuck off.”

Alex snorted as he pushed off the bench with Logan when Coach tapped their shoulders. “Are we gonna talk about the Leo Knut tendencies you seem to have always possessed?”

“Big word.” Logan shoved him so hard that he actually fell over, laughing all the way down. That was sure to be on Twitter somewhere later.

And Tremblay shoves O’Hara down. Laughing. Wonder what was so funny.

Finn sighed. “You and me both, bud.”

“Dev!”

Logan caught Luke’s back-pass and found himself trapped in the corner with Pascal, the puck between their two stick blades. Logan laughed a little, thought he heard Pascal do the same, but it was over too quickly to say anything. Logan knocked it out to Luke again who drew his stick right back and slammed it towards the goal. Kasey lunged for it, the odd, acute angle, but it went right under his glove.

“Yeah!” Logan put his hands up with a grin. He tried not to look at Pascal out of the corner of his eye.

He tapped his glove to Luke’s helmet when he skated into the celly, Percy slamming into their other side.

“Fucking finally, eh,” Percy shouted. He bumped his fist against Luke’s chest, then Logan’s. “Killer pass. Gorgeous.”

There was a buzzing in Logan’s ears. The crowd. Faces that were familiar but not from now. It was like someone had put a filter over his life and all the colors were different. His eyes found Leo on the bench. He was watching the replay on the big screen.

With ten minutes left in the second period, it did feel right that they had finally scored. Tied up, one-one. Logan skated to the bench and hauled himself over it, watching Panarin’s line go out.

He squirted water down the back of his neck and hit Luke’s thigh. “Good.”

“Yeah, well.” Luke wiped his visor clean with a towel. “Let’s just try and keep it up and end this round.”

Logan didn’t say anything. There was that feeling again. The one he couldn’t quite admit to himself. It was real once this round was over—or even realer than it was now. He wasn’t a Lion anymore. He was someone who ended the Lions’ season.

Panarin’s shot went wide twice and Trouba shot one over Kasey’s shoulder that got overturned for interference. Kasey stood with his back to the ice while the referees reviewed it. He had his helmet up and his water bottle in hand, but he didn’t drink. Logan knew Alex had gone into the Lions’ room. He knew what Kasey had announced. He wished he had been there. He wished he had known before Alex went so he could come. Kasey might not be on his team anymore, but he was still Kasey. He had wanted to stand next to Leo and hold his hand.

Six minutes left in the second. 1-1.

Logan jumped the boards right as the puck soared into the netting above the glass and the whistle went. Logan headed towards the Lions’ zone, but stopped when no one else did. He looked around.

“What’s up?” asked Will.

“I don’t know,” Logan said, frowning as Coach Arthur held up a T with his hands and Kasey started skating towards the bench. “They’re calling a time out.”

“Come on,” Finn said aloud to the dark room. “Come on.”

The more time went by, the more superstitious he seemed to get. He kept switching up his position on the couch. He’d even taken the computer into the kitchen while he finished his dinner, hoping they might have more luck if he was in a different room. He was putting his plate in the dishwasher when—

And looks like Leo Knut is taking Kasey Winter’s place in goal for the second game in a row.

Finn turned. “Le.”

Why the sudden switch, we’ll have to wait and see but one could only guess that it has something to do with Kasey Winter’s injury struggles this season. Well, recent seasons, I should say. I gotta feel for the guy, he’s one hell of a goalie.

Finn shut the dishwasher with a beep and cursed. As the final minutes of the second period wound down, he tried to picture Leo there. Wary of Logan. Trying to forget that it was Logan. Just number 71.

Tremblay with a high shot. Finn closed his eyes. —Goes wide of Knut. Kakko picks it up.

Finn listened to the third leaning against the kitchen island with his fingers against his lips. Waiting to hear Logan’s name, or Leo’s. LoganLeoLoganLeo, forced to go against each other.

Instead, it felt like all he heard was Remus’.

Lupin has had ten shots on goal alone in these last two periods. None of them have gone in mind you, but that fact is impressive and—oh that’s from Walker straight to Lupin’s tape and carrying, carrying, back to Walker, no look—and he scores! Remus Lupin with a five-hole on a beauty of a no looker from Thomas Walker! He brings it up to 2-1 Lions.

“Yeah!” Finn shouted, rising to his feet. “Fuck yes!”

He wanted to turn on the TV. He wanted to see. He wanted to watch them celebrate, he wanted to skate across the ice and hug Remus because he would have been on the line. He would have. He could have helped.

“Fucking sling,” Finn whispered, tugging at the elastic strap. Most of tea had long gone cold, and he wanted a popsicle to suck on and dull out the ache in his head a little. Or, really, he wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep but he couldn’t do that. Not before the game was through. It was only 9:30 for fuck sake. Though he did find himself wishing that it wouldn’t go to any OT periods. If he stayed standing he’d stay awake.

He paced to the window as the puck battled between zones. Logan was feisty tonight. He’d come close to blows with Kota twice it sounded like. The Rangers went up on a power play when Kota tripped Logan and Finn nearly cheered before remembering that it was the Rangers. Finn walked around the couch as the whistle blew for another Rangers icing. Whoever kept dumping was only doing the Lions a favor.

“C’mon,” Finn mumbled. “I’m tired and I miss you, c’mon.”

Logan on power play one. Logan, Alex. Back to Logan. Finn was too tense, he really wasn’t supposed to be this tense, he was supposed to be firmly relaxing. But Leo. God, Logan and Alex in front of Leo’s net, glove save against Alex, Logan’s shot going wide. Logan was pulling back, Finn could feel it. He was trying, trying, and then seeing Leo. And he was going to get so much shit for it. Finn sat down, rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He should have been praying for a win, but he was praying for this game to be over.

O’Hara to Tremblay, back to O’Hara—and he scores!

“Yeah!” Finn said then cursed. “I mean, no.” He groaned. He had to stop doing that. “Fuck.”

Alex O’Hara with a very clean tip-in off of an assist from Tremblay, Knut didn’t have a chance. 2-2 now this is a tight game and the scoring has picked up tremendously. The puck drops Jesus Christ, Lupin again! Christ almighty! Lupin again! Right off the face-off! 3-2 Lions!

“Loops!” Finn stood and laughed through the word. They were ahead now. God, the announcer was rambling, the pile up on the ice must be insane, celebrating. There was a short enough amount of time that this could be it, it could be, especially with the crowd the way it was, God, Finn could hear it, he could see it, even if he couldn’t. The pounding of hands on the glass and his teammates shouting right beside him. The way Thomas and Evgeni jumped up and down, making the bench rattle.

There was three minutes to go. They were ahead, and Logan was trying. God, Finn could feel him. The way he moved, the way he breathed. He’d spent his entire career watching him, waiting for him, tracking him even when he couldn’t see him. Catch a pass, catch a mistake. Finish a goal, pretty or dirty. Alex was trying his best but twice they’d gotten their pocket picked by Sirius and it made Finn hide a smile. No one could play with Logan as well as him.

It didn’t stop him from scoring though. Of course it didn’t.

That is one slick wrap-around by Tremblay.

Finn closed his eyes. He wanted that highlight. He wanted it bad.

Knut didn’t look like he even knew where the puck was.

Finn put his head in his hands. He could hear the celebration. “Le. Aw, baby, it’s okay, it’s okay…”

The Rangers even it up again with forty-six seconds on the clock. Oh, the Lions don’t like that. Arthur Weasley doesn’t like that, but he’s used his timeout. Gryffindor will have to figure something out.

“Come on,” Finn whispered. “Come on, boys…”

It was a blur of phrases and images playing behind his closed eyes.

God, impossible save by Knut! He’s gonna get famous for that poke-check of his, we saw it last play-offs, and look’s like we’ll be seeing more of it—

Finn wanted to be there to scoop the puck up from Leo’s waiting stick, clear of the blue paint. He wanted to feel Leo at his back, defending him, letting him risk a more risky pass.

The clock had to be dangerously low now and Finn’s head ached with how he was squeezing his eyes shut, but he couldn’t help it. He was so tired.

Knocked away by Knut, hard shot by Trouba—

“Good.” Finn whispered, thumb nail between his teeth. “Good, Le…”

What a take away by Black and he’s going—Lupin catches up with him and it’s two on one, Black and Lupin against Luke Deveaux—Black sends it over to Lupin, Lupin back to Black, and a third time—GOAL! Goal! Goal!

Finn shouted. There weren’t any words in it, but a sheer sound of relief and joy.

Lupin with the hat trick! Hat trick! With twelve seconds on the clock! Twelve seconds! Three goals all scored within—Jesus, how long?—that’s insane, that is just magnificent, insane—

Remus heard the crowd. Deep, collective—for a split second, he thought they were booing. But then he pieced it together, right as Sirius slammed into his chest and shouted right in his ear. Not boos.

Loops.

My God, Remus Lupin is on fire tonight. God, what a shot! What a shot, this place is going wild. This place is on its feet because the Lions are going to a game seven. I repeat, the Gryffindor Lions are taking the New York Rangers to a game seven—

Long, drawn out, Loops and then reorganizing into a chant, and then dissolving into cheers. Hats showered them. Completely, it felt like. Raining, pouring, drenching the ice in hats. So many Remus wondered how all of them made it to the ice. He couldn’t stop laughing. He thought maybe he was crying a little.

“Game winner!” Thomas was shouting. “Game fucking winner, fucking winner, fucking natty hatty, oh fuck, Remus!”

“Jesus, what’s in your water, Lupin!” Percy Marshall shouted from near Saint’s goal.

He just looked up at Sirius. Sirius laughed and then ducked down and kissed Remus’ cheek—or tried, but it was really just their visors knocking together. “I love you. I love you, love you, I love you so much—”

“Julian,” Remus said. “You think Jules saw?”

Sirius just pressed their visors together, while Thomas all but crowed to the sky. “Yeah, baby, Jules saw.”

Remus looked up towards the Lions box as he skated towards the bench, as he skated down the line tapping gloves. He couldn’t see much, but he would have been able to pick out that wildly jumping figure any place, any time.

Logan went looking for Cassie. He wouldn’t deny it. He smoothed his wet hair back from his face and tugged at his tie. He smiled shakily at a few members of the press who passed him on their way to the pressroom to write their stories. Post-game interviews had been rough. You guys could have had it, what will you do differently to pull through next game?

It was a fairly normal question. Definitely expected. The hard part, Logan guessed, was answering it truthfully—even to himself. Pulling through meant taking the Lions out, and Logan couldn’t think about that too hard.

But even worse: You seemed to have…bad puck luck when Knut came into goal. What do you think happened?

Logan could have punched the guy who asked that. He’d stared at him hard enough to make him take a step back anyway.

“Tremzy!”

Logan turned fast. Katie, flying towards him full-force, in Rangers blue with TREMBLAY on her back. Pascal had sent him the video—Katie bawling her eyes out and refusing to move until the removed her father’s jersey and gave her a Tremblay one.

Pascal wasn’t too far behind her and grinned as Logan caught Katie up in his arms.

“Salut, Petit. Oh, what are you wearing?” Logan propped her on his hip and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Is that all for me?”

She patted his tie. “You didn’t win. Papa won.”

“C’est une tragédie, apparently,” Pascal said. “We cannot go home until she finds you, you know.”

“Non, me neither.” Logan smiled at him and tilted his and Katie’s heads together. He switched to French. “I need my little cabbage fix before dinner…”

Katie shrieked out a laugh, knowing what was coming, and Logan dipped her upside down to kiss her cheek with nom noises before bringing her upright again.

“Didn’t you like the Lions hat trick? All the hats on the ice.”

Katie shook her head, brandishing the wrist with her charm bracelet at him like a sword. “Non. I like when you get goals.”

“Ouch,” Pascal said wryly.

Katie put a hand on top of Logan’s head. “Is Harzy okay?”

“Ouais,” Logan said. “He’s doing much better. He misses you.”

“Where’s Leo?”

“I’m going to find him right now.”

She squished Logan’s cheeks between her small palms. “Does he have banana bread?”

“Not with him, I don’t think.”

Katie frowned. “Oh.” Then, she promptly squeezed her arms around his neck and put her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Aw,” Logan said. “I love you, too.”

Pascal mouthed, she’s going to fall asleep, and Logan nodded, half-sure that she already was. He put a hand on her back. She was so warm, so delicate in his arms. He used to be afraid of that, holding onto her too hard. “Past your bedtime, hm?”

They stood silently in the hallway together for a moment. Logan thought of the warm living room at the Dumais house. The boys muting their video game on the TV. Katie sleeping against his chest. Noelle passing him embroidery floss colors to pick out so she could make him a bracelet.

“I don’t think I’ll get used to seeing you in blue,” Pascal said softly, stroking back Katie’s hair, then, after a moment of hesitation, mussing Logan’s gently.

“Me neither,” Logan replied roughly. God, how many homes could one person be homesick for at once?

“No matter what happens next game,” Pascal said. “We love you. You know that, right?”

“Ouais.”

“You won’t beat yourself up.”

“Non.” He sighed. “Well, not too bad. I’m worried about Leo.” He sighed. He had to tell someone. “It’s been hard. This, Finn, Kasey…”

“Archer,” Pascal finished hesitantly.

“Logan?” said a voice.

Logan looked to see Cassie at the other end of the hallway. She gave him a small wave, looking uncertain as to whether she should approach or not.

“Ah,” Pascal said. “I thought you knew her.”

“Quoi.” He smiled back at her, held up a finger. One second.

“You looked, ah, how did Sirius put it…Freaked.”

“I’m not.”

“Here,” Pascal said, reaching out for Katie.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Logan began to say, but Pascal just arched a brow.

“You do not need to hold my daughter for every tough conversation you have.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but eased the sleepy Katie into her father’s arms.

“Go talk to a girl. That can’t be too difficult for you.”

“Dumo.”

Pascal just smiled. “Oh, and guess what?”

Logan sighed. His arms felt cold and too light without Katie in them. “What?”

“Leo is going to be okay. You three are going to be fine.”

Pascal touched Logan’s cheek briefly, then turned away, murmuring softly to Katie.

“Remus!”

Remus dropped everything he was holding—his glove, a roll of tape, a tennis ball, and his mouth guard—to turn around and get a stumble-inducing hug by his little brother.

“Did you get any of the hats!” Julian asked. “Oh my God!”

“I think they’re in a bunch of buckets somewhere,” Remus said, and held on tighter even when Jules made to pull back. “No, one more second.”

“I have to see Sirius, too!”

“He didn’t get a hat trick.” Remus squeezed Julian until he gasped for air.

“Death by hug,” Julian coughed out, but he squeezed Remus just as tightly back. “It was so cool, Re.”

“Thanks. It felt pretty cool.” He put his hands on Julian’s shoulders and pulled back. “I can get you a hat if you want a hat. Can’t promise to know whose head it was on, though.”

Julian laughed. “I don’t need a hat.” Remus still sort of wanted to get him a hat. He wanted to get Julian anything he could ever possibly want.

Julian shook Remus lightly by his shoulder pads. “Game seven! Did you always think you were going to go to a game seven!”

Remus shrugged, patting his stall for Julian to sit in. “I don’t know if Captain Superstitious over here would have allowed such a thought to cross my mind.”

“Wow,” Sirius said, stripping off his chest pads and grabbing his towel for a shower. “You make me sound insane.”

Julian and Remus shared a look.

“You might be a little.” Julian pinched his fingers. “Tiny bit insane.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but tussled Julian’s hair before walking away.

“Hey.” Remus nudged his his foot against Julian’s shin. “You okay here for a second if I shower so we can all get some ice cream before it’s after midnight?”

Julian’s eyes lit up—either at the mention of ice cream or at the prospect of being left to his own devices in the locker room.

“Oh, I’ve got him,” Thomas said. He was wearing his suit pants and shrugging on a white button down. “Noelle chose to go see the Rangers so I, too, am abandoned.”

“Oh my God,” Jackson said from beside him. “She said she’d be back in two minutes after seeing her loser brother.”

“Watch it,” Leo called, passing by.

“Two whole minutes.” Thomas tisked. “Nado, I don’t know what to do with myself without that girl around anymore. Copy?”

“Good luck,” Remus said to Julian, and stripped off his own padding to head to the showers.

James was singing—horribly—but Sirius had secured them the two corner showers. Remus’ favorite. The hot water felt good, but Sirius’ gaze on him felt better. Remus smiled as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back to wash his hair.

“I can feel you thinking,” Remus said.

“If we were alone, you could feel—”

“Oh I’m sure.”

“Well, I was thinking about taking you into another private corner but your little brother was looking at me.”

Remus reached for the shampoo. “This is true.” He looked over his shoulder. “I don’t see him anywhere now.”

Sirius sent a pointed look at James and the few other of their teammates showering around them.

“What?” Remus said with a grin. “I just want a kiss.”

Sirius watched him for a moment, and Remus let himself admire the way the water made his dark hair and eyelashes ever darker. The way the droplets made his tan skin shine. Finally, Sirius went so far as to settle a hand on Remus’ bare, wet hip, and kissed his cheek.

“I love you,” Sirius whispered against Remus’ skin.

“I love you, too.”

“The noodles!” Evgeni shouted, ducking beneath a shower head across the room.

“He means canoodle,” Jackson said.

Sirius ignored them. “I want to re-watch that game.”

“Is that all?”

“No. It’ll never be all with you. I’ll always want you more.” Another soft kiss to his temple. “And more, and more.”

“You fucker,” Alex said into his phone, wedged between his shoulder and ear as he tied his dress shoes.

“Ha-ha,” Finn replied. “It was all me.”

“Oh, we’ll get your boys next game.” Alex said.

“Will you now?” Finn said. “You sure about that?”

“Pretty damn sure, I’d say. Lupin can’t be that hot every night.”

“Ha, but Sirius Black can.”

“Bleh.” Alex straighten with a sigh. “I hate how true that is.”

“Hey, Al?”

Alex took his phone, switching ears. “Yup?”

There was a bit of a pause, long enough that Alex looked at the screen to make sure that Finn was still there. It made him nearly miss his first couple words.

“If you can,” Finn’s voice said. “Try not to let Lo take any winning shots against Leo.”

Alex’s smile dimmed. His eyes moved over to Kasey, who was leaning against the wall through the locker room doorway with Natalie, waiting for him. She said something with a smile and he nodded in his soft way, playing with the diamond ring on her finger.

“It’ll hurt them both, I think,” Finn finished softly. “Maybe ask Deveaux, too. If you can.”

“I don’t know if I can help that, Finn,” Alex said.

“I know.” Finn’s sigh crackled like wind. “I know. Yeah, I know.”

“Hey,” Alex said. “But I love you, little Fish.”

There was a beat of silence. “All right, I’ll let that slide just this once.”

Alex smiled.

“Love you, too.”

“Hi,” Cassie said.

Logan’s words got stuck for a second.

She had taken her suit jacket off and her white shirt underneath was crisp and clean. Logan remembered her in low tank-tops and knee-high boots. His Harvard sweatshirts and tiny cotton shorts, stretching in his bed and going to his window to check if it was raining. Yes, he had loved Finn for most of their time together, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t appreciated Cassie. She was kind and fun and, God, had she ever taught him what he liked. She had been a little wild like that. He had a flash of a steamed up car window, her uneven breathing against his cheek, her hand fisting the hair at the back of his neck.

“I…hi.”

She smiled, then shrugged and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hi.”

He laughed. “Hi.” She felt the same and he automatically squeezed her waist like he used to. “I—sorry about—I mean on the bench.” They pulled apart. “I was—I wasn’t expecting—”

“No, that’s so on me, I didn’t give you, like, any warning. This is kind of a new promotion for me. I mean, not kind of.” She rolled her eyes, laughing. “It is.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

“Well—wow, I have to tell Finn.”

“Oh, Finn. I always adored him.”

“He’s good. Uh and, oh, Will and Percy are here, did you…”

“Saw them on the bench, but haven’t gotten to say hi yet.” She tilted her head, teasing. “Didn’t think I was just waiting for you, did you?”

Logan laughed. “Uh, non, definitely not.”

“But it is really good to see you. Really, really good. Seriously, though, is Finn doing okay? That was really hard footage to watch.”

Try being there. “Yeah. He’s—he’s better. He’s getting better. He might be at the next game in New York, if he gets cleared. Not dressed, but, still. Not having to sit in the dark.”

“Right.” Cassie nodded sympathetically. “God, that happened to him in college, didn’t it?”

Twice. Logan nodded. He didn’t expect her to remember. They’d been broken up by the second.

“Well, then I hope I get to say hi.”

Logan wasn’t sure how to talk about Finn with Cassie. She’d broken up with him over Finn, even though she hadn’t known it was Finn at the time. She’d thought it was another girl, just someone else taking up Logan’s attention. By the conflicted look on her face, it looked like she knew now.

“Um.” Cassie tucked her hair behind her ears then crossed her arms. “Listen. This is probably not the time and definitely not the place but I’m not sure—I kind of just have to say this if you don’t mind.” She glanced down the hallway, but they were alone. “I think I was kind of…I know I was hard on you when we broke up…”

Logan shook his head. He swallowed, trying to force the words out quickly. “Non. Non, I don’t think you were hard on me. If anyone was hard on someone, it was me on you. I mean…now you know that…that Finn and I?”

“Were you together then?” she asked, then her eyes widened. “God. No. Jesus, you don’t have to tell me that. That was so rude, wow. I’m sorry.” She laughed a little. “We don’t see each other for years and—”

“We weren’t,” Logan said, but then it was his turn to laugh a bit. “Well—Merde. I mean. We were… We loved each other then. But we…” How to even say it? “We thought we couldn’t.” No, that wasn’t it. “I thought we couldn’t.”

“You seriously don’t owe me an explanation,” Cassie said. “Logan, I was trying to apologize. The second I heard about you and Finn—I mean, I think I just saw a photo of you two on Twitter or something, or Instagram?—but I remembered our fight like it was yesterday and…”

“You thought I was cheating on you. And in a lot of ways you were right. You had ever right to be mad at me.”

“I…I know that now. But I loved you, and I shouldn’t have said all those horrible things.” She let out a breath. “I didn’t mean them. It’s just that I really, really loved you.”

Logan wouldn’t have said any of his heart still belonged to Cassie, but right then it felt like part of it might, in some way. It broke all over again for the two of them. For the quiet mornings and for looking up into the bleachers at games and seeing her there, wearing his sweater. For all the times she’d gone quiet and let him think about what he wanted to say, when she was always so bright and sudden for everyone else.

“Anyway,” she sighed. “I just didn’t know when I would see you again and, you know, knock on wood you’ll be too busy celebrating next game, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry. And that I’m happy for you. You and Finn.”

“I��m sorry, too,” Logan said. “I didn’t deserve you. I was trying to figure me out and…and I feel like I used you but, for the record, I did love you, too. Maybe not like you loved me, but.”

Cassie smiled. “Yeah?”

Logan smiled back. “Ouais.”

“Oh.” Cassie shook her head fondly. “God, I missed your French.”

Logan was laughing when he heard Leo’s voice from behind him.

“Lo?”

Logan turned and found him standing there, handsome in his navy suit. He looked between them hesitantly.

“Le,” Logan held out a hand to him. “Soleil, this is Cassie. Cas, this is my boyfriend, Leo.”

Cassie smiled, then looked alarmed, then smiled again. “Uh. Wait. Um. I mean, hi.”

“There’s two of them,” Logan said and took Leo’s hand. “Finn. Leo.”

“Two?”

“Two.”

Cassie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged. “Jesus, I can’t even find one. You were so great in the third, Leo, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh,” Leo said, a little dazed. Logan tried not to watch too closely as Leo looked Cassie up and down. “Well, thanks, pleasure to meet you. How do you two…”

Logan squeezed Leo’s fingers. “Cas and I were at school together—we…well, we…”

“Dated,” Cassie finished for him with a grin. “For a little while. But then again, I never got called the sun by this one so who’s counting it really.”

Leo looked down at Logan and Logan was so proud of the happy look in those blue eyes he could have kissed him. “No?”

“Nope,” Cassie said. “But I can see why you do.”

“Casss-ieee,” came Percy’s voice from behind them, and then the thump of him running down the hall. He didn’t even hesitate, not even when it had been years, before scooping her up in a hug. She shrieked, but let him spin her once and press a kiss to her cheek.

“Oh my God, will you not ever grow up Percy Marshall?”

Percy just grinned at her. His suit was wrinkled, as usual, and he towered over her, but he looked down at her smile like he was looking up to the blue sky. “Not a chance, Cassie Baker. Not with you to impress.”

“It’s been too long since I’ve been subjected to your flirting.”

“Well.” Percy released her and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Who knows. Maybe I really mean it this time.”

Logan felt Leo nudged him, hip against hip, and Logan leaned his head against his shoulder.

“Home?” Leo whispered.

“Ouais.”

Logan thwacked Percy upside the head as they passed by. “See you next game, Cas?”

“Count on it,” Cassie called, and when she wasn’t looking, Percy mouthed Cassie fucking Baker to him over her shoulder with a lovesick expression on his face.

“So, you dated her,” Leo said. He was trying very hard not to smile.

“Oasis,” Logan said. “But…” He reached up as they walked and traced a blond wave of Leo’s hair, then the gray streak. “I was obviously looking for you.”

“You know Hannah looks just like you, right?”

“What? Non.”

Leo laughed. “Logan Tremblay. Look alive, hot stuff—oh.” Leo’s phone pinged. “Gee, wonder who that could be.”

Please come home I talking to myself (sent with Siri)

Also the doctor is emailed I clear for traveled with to you so New York! Sirius send happy emoji no smile emoji no send smile (sent with Siri)

Leo snorted, Logan let out a loud laugh, then they had to take a minute, leaning against each other with silent laughter.

“What’s wrong with you two?” Remus asked as he passed by with Sirius and Julian.

“Sirius,” Logan gasped. “Send smile emoji.”

Leo crouched, hiding his face against Logan’s hip as his shoulders shook.

Sirius just shook his head and tugged on Remus’ hand. “You need to go home.”

“Send smile emoji!” Logan shouted after him.

Sirius just looked back at him. “What the fuck, Tremz.”

“I’ve got him,” Leo laughed, wrapping an arm around Logan’s shoulder. “C’mon, Harz is talking to himself, we better go save him.”

“He always talks to himself.”

“I don’t think he knows that.”

Leo just hummed in agreement. “She seemed nice.”

“She is,” Logan said.

“This is the girl you mean when you say college girlfriend, right?”

“Mhm,” Logan nodded, and took Leo’s hand again as they walked into the stairwell that led to the parking lot. It smelled like summer. Heat and humidity. Leo stripped off his suit jacket to drive and threw it in the back seat with their bags.

When they were turning the engine on, Logan put a hand over Leo’s. “Le.”

Leo looked up from adjusting his mirrors.

Logan took a breath. He wasn’t sure he actually wanted to talk it all through, but maybe it would get easier. Maybe. And he at least had the short drive home to start. “Want me to tell you about it?” Logan asked softly. “Cassie.”

Leo’s lips parted, surprised. His hair was darker, the ends starting to dry from his own shower. He had taken his tie off, too, and his shirt was open at the neck. Logan reached out and touched the indent of the fleur-de-lis necklace beneath his shirt. It had been passed back and forth between them— Finn had been wearing it for a few days there when he was mostly just sleeping and in pain, but Logan supposed at some point, Finn had slipped it over Leo’s neck again.

“Yeah,” Leo said softly. “I’d like that.”

Logan leaned back in his seat as Leo pulled out of their spot. “I met her my very first night as a Freshman. I didn’t know what I was doing, I didn’t even have bed sheets. I had met Fish, là, twenty minutes maybe before. I scared the hell out of him in our room. But you know that, anyway, Cassie saved me from sitting by myself all night…”

#vaincre lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #sports au #wolfstar au #o'knutzy #lumosinlove #finn o'hara #Logan tremblay #sirius black #Leo knut #remus lupin #go lions go

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andvys · 2 years

Text

Love will tear us apart // part two

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, mentions of sexual harassment (old men being gross but dw Eddie comes to save the day)

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Eddie’s eyes keep flickering back to the notebook laying on his table, your notebook. He tried to find you after class so he could give it back to you but you were nowhere to be found. He knows he shouldn't have taken it home, he could've just left it in his locker and give it back to you tomorrow morning but he didn't, instead he put it in his backpack and took it home with him.

He hasn't looked inside yet, not wanting to invade your privacy and maybe find something that you don't want anyone to know about but his curiosity was killing him.

He went as far as grabbing it out of his backpack and he stared at it for the longest time, contemplating looking inside but then he decided against it and threw it on his messy table. The notebook fell right next to something else that belonged to you once. Something that he never gave you back again. A black scrunchie.

You gave it to him during PE once, his hair kept getting in his face and he kept brushing it back every few seconds, huffing in annoyance. You came up to him and offered him your scrunchie. He looked at it with a puzzled expression on his face before his eyes met yours, you looked at him with a soft smile on your lips “for your hair.” you said before pushing the scrunchie into his hand and walking off again, leaving him blushing and confused.

You were always kind to Eddie even though he was an absolute asshole to you, you never gave him back the energy that he gave you. It confused him.

Sighing, he sat up on his bed and leaned over to grab your notebook. You would have looked inside if it was his, at least that’s what he tries to make himself believe. His fingers ghost over the flowers that are engraved into the brown leather. Eddie is fighting himself, on one hand he wants to look inside and find out more about you but on the other hand, he knows that it’s wrong and that he would probably hurt you or anger you, he would invade your privacy but he wanted to look inside so bad.

“Fuck it.” he huffs as he opens it.

The first page is just a drawing, a drawing of a landscape, a landscape of Hawkins? His eyes widen in surprise, he has seen you drawing during classes but he has never actually seen what it was or how good you actually are.

Furrowing his brows, he realizes that it’s not Hawkins how he knows it. You made up your own version of it. The sky is blood red, an even darker shade of red paints the lightning in the sky. Black vines cover the ground in your drawing. It's only a drawing but for some reason he feels shivers running down his spine, it’s not real though right?

Flipping the page, he presses his lips together, the next two pages are filled with your handwriting, he looks away for a moment, a guilty feeling settles in his chest. He shouldn't be reading this, he shouldn't have opened it in the first place, it’s not meant for his eyes to see and yet he finds himself looking back at it, just as he is about to read the first sentence, the ringing of the house telephone interrupts him, startling him.

“Jesus.” he mumbles, jumping back as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn't be doing. Throwing the notebook on his bed, he doesn't notice the picture that slipped out between the pages as he jumps of the bed, rushing into the living room to pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey kid, it’s Dean.”

“Oh hey what's up man.” Eddie relaxes at the sound of the bartenders voice, the sound of loud music and chatter gives his location away.

“Listen, I got a situation here, I gotta leave the bar for a few hours. I got someone here but I don't want to leave her alone with all the drunks-”

“I’ll be there.” Eddie interrupts him. It’s unlikely for Eddie to come by the bar for anything other than his weekly gigs but the older man was always generous and kind to him and Eddie helped out before to make some extra cash.

“Awesome, thank you Eddie. My niece is here, you won't even have to do anything. I just don't want to leave her here by herself.”

You are his niece, a few hours ago he wouldn't even know that but thanks to Dustin, he now knows a few things about you.

“D-Don’t mention it man, I’ll be there in a few.” he speaks into the phone before hanging up.

“Well fuck.” he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He pushes himself off the wall, walking back into his room to grab his jacket. He suddenly was overcome by a feeling of nervousness. He has never been around you out of school, it left him with an anxious feeling in his stomach.

Your headache seemed to be getting worse by each passing second, you didn't blame the loud music in the bar, you never had a problem with that but the loud chatter and laughter of the group of men at the big table next to the bar started to give you a migraine and as if that wasn't enough, they also made you feel extremely uncomfortable with their lingering stares and their stupid whispers whenever they would look your way.

“Hey sugar, get me another beer.”

Clenching your jaw, you throw the kitchen towel over your shoulder “sure” you mumble, giving the man one of your sweetest fake smiles as you grab a fresh glass, filling it to the top.

“Here.” you mutter, placing it on the table.

“Thanks.” he grins, eying you up and down with a sick smile on his lips, making you shudder in disgust “why don't you grab yourself a drink and join us?” he smirks.

The other men at the table snicker, nodding in agreement.

Your face twists in anger and disgust, these men are twice your age, one of them looks old enough to be your grandpa and yet all of them except for one, eye you like you were some shiny new toy for them to play with.

“No thanks.” you scoffed as you whirled around, making the men laugh even more. You would love nothing more than to throw their drinks into their faces and throw them out of the bar.

“Oh come on don’t be like that, sweetie-”

“Don’t.” another voice cuts in, you furrow your brows as you turn around, eyes falling on Eddie, there’s an angry expression on his face as he holds the wrist of the man that hit on you, who was clearly about to grab you, the thought makes you shudder in disgust “don’t touch her.” Eddie warns, glaring at him.

You could have handled him yourself but you were thankful that Eddie was here to stop him from touching you. ‘This was the wrong day to wear a skirt this short’ you think to yourself as you look down at yourself, feeling too exposed all of the sudden.

“Didn't know she was your girlfriend, Munson.” he chuckles, ripping his wrists out of Eddie’s hand.

“Girlfriend or not, you don’t touch what isn't for you to touch. Keep it in your pants old man and have some fucking respect.” Eddie speaks in anger.

You swallow as you watch him nervously, you have seen him angry before but never like this.

“Listen kid, you-”

“Hey, hey no need to fight fellas, we’re all good here.” another one from the group stands up, you recognize him, he comes by often and usually sits by the counter talking to your uncle, he has never made you uncomfortable before so you’re surprised to see him surrounded by a bunch of old assholes “no one here is going to touch your girl.”

Neither you or Eddie acknowledge the fact that you have been called his girlfriend, twice. You look down to hide the flustered look on your face as Eddie turns around to look at you.

“I’m sorry, kid.” he offers you an apology, glaring at his friend who tried to grab you.

You nod at him before you look up at Eddie, who is still glaring at the man in front of him “it’s okay, Eddie, I got it now.” you sigh, not knowing how to act around him.

Eddie surely didn't do it for you, he would've done this for anyone.

You step away from him and turn around, getting behind the counter again. You didn't expect to see Eddie here today, you know his band only plays on Tuesdays so you usually avoided being here when you knew that he would come by.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him getting behind the counter as well, shrugging his jacket off.

With a confused expression on your face, you turn towards him “what are you doing?” you ask with a raised brow.

“Uh, working?” he mumbles.

You watch him with a puzzled look on your face, he grabs a towel, slinging it over his shoulder, rolling his sleeves up before he crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the counter and looks at you.

The confused expression doesn't leave your face as you stare at him. You blink, eyes trailing down his body before you look back up at him, you have to admit, he looks good, really good. If he just wasn't such an asshole.

“I thought your band only played on Tuesdays.” you mutter.

“That’s not why I’m here, your uncle called, asked me if I can play your bodyguard.” he explains with a teasing smirk on his face.

“I don’t need a bodyguard.” you scoff as you put your hands on your hips. You should've known that your uncle wouldn't leave you to close the bar by yourself, too worried about some drunk getting the wrong idea.

Eddie chuckles as he inches closer to you “I think you do, that asshole over there would’ve shoved his hand under that little skirt of yours if it wasn't for me stopping him.”

You shudder in disgust, the thought of it makes you sick but you play it off, not showing him how uncomfortable you felt earlier.

“My hero.” you say dramatically, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. Your breath hitches in your throat as you realize how close he’s standing, you can feel his breath on you, you can smell his cologne, his dark eyes scan your face, lingering on your lips for a moment “I had it under control.” you say, rolling your eyes as you back away from him, putting your hands one the counter behind you, you jump up to sit on it.

Eddie clenches his jaw as his eyes fall on your lap, your skirt rode up, exposing more of your skin to him. As much as he claims to hate you, he can’t deny the fact that you are the prettiest girl he has ever seen, he has spent too many hours admiring you from afar.

He watches as you adjust the knee high socks you’re wearing, bending down a little, Eddie takes a sharp breath as his eyes flicker down to your cleavage, fuck.

Blinking, he takes a step back, cursing inwardly both at himself for being a creep and at you for being so fucking hot, one thing is for sure, you are making things very hard for him.

“Didn't seem like you had it under control.” he mumbles as he looks back at the group of men, glaring at them, anger is still rushing through him as he looks at the creep that tried to touch you.

“I can protect myself, trust me.”

Eddie snorts, turning back towards you he finds you looking at him with a serious expression on your face “right, you can protect yourself, you can’t even come up with something mean to say, sweetheart.” he scoffs, chuckling as he eyes you up and down, eyes lingering on your thighs for a moment.

You squint your eyes, glaring at him “I can fight.” you shrug, making him laugh even more.

“Really? ‘Cause I remember you always running away from fights.” his eyes meet yours again.

It’s true, every time you had gotten into your little banters, you would just scoff and turn away from him the moment it got too intense. You hated the fights, you always did.

Shaking your head “no I only drop the meaningless ones.”

A halfhearted laugh leaves his lips. The meaningless ones, you mean the ones with him. Because he means nothing to you right? Why should he? He was an asshole to you most of the time you have known each other and yet it hurts.

“And I never run away from things.” you add.

“You ran away today.” he points out, talking about how you ran out of class earlier “I was looking for you after class.”

You raise your brows, looking at him in question. Eddie was looking for you? Why?

“W-Why were you looking for me?”

‘To give you back your notebook’ is what Eddie should have said but he doesn't want to give it back yet even though he knows that it’s wrong “I wanted to see if you’re okay.” he says. It’s not a lie, he did want to see if you’re okay when he was looking for you.

Your eyes widen slightly, Eddie wanted to see if you are okay? You almost want to scoff at his words, he doesn't care about you, there's no need for him to act like he does.

"That happen often? The nosebleeds, I mean.”

“Uh no, not really.” you mumble, you didn't even think about it before, you figured the nosebleeds had something to do with the headache or some weird anxiety symptom.

He nods, neither of you say anything for the next few minutes but Eddie’s eyes keep finding yours. He seems different tonight, less hateful.. Maybe it’s because you’re out of school and there's no one else around or maybe he just figured out that you’re Dean’s niece. You know they’re friends, your uncle always talks about him, gushing over Eddie and his band.

“I never knew Dean was your uncle.” Eddie says, breaking the silence between you.

“Again, you don’t know anything about me, Eddie.” you mumble, repeating your words from earlier today. And yet you chose to hate me you think to yourself as you look into his brown eyes, leaning further back on the counter, you tear your eyes away from him.

“Yeah.” he speaks lowly, trailing his eyes down your body, eyes stopping at your thighs once again, your skirt rode up even further and his jaw almost drops as his eyes fall on the large scars on your upper thigh, a shiver runs down his spine at the claw marks on your skin, what the hell happened to you? “Yeah. I guess I really don’t huh?” he mumbles, averting his gaze from the scars.

Did that happen when you went missing? Did someone do this to you?

He has so many questions that he wants to ask but he knows he can't, not after everything that happened between the two of you. You would never tell him anyways and he would never ask. He could ask Dustin or the other boys, they know what happened, they know where you have been when you went missing.

They didn't tell him that but their weird behavior gave it away when he asked some questions about you. Mike just shrugged and pretended to be clueless, Lucas stuttered like crazy when he tried to convince Eddie that they know nothing about what happened and Dustin, he got very quiet which is weird since he usually can't shut up about you.

“Henderson talks about you a lot, you know?”

Looking back at Eddie, you find him staring at you, a weird expression on his face. His eyes look warm, almost inviting.

“Yeah?” your eyes soften, at the mention of Dustin.

He nods. Well, Dustin also talks about Steve a lot but Eddie doesn't want to think about him right now, he hates Steve with a passion. Is it because he was one of those stuck up rich kids that everyones loves or because Steve has something that Eddie will never have? Whatever, the reason might be, he just hates him.

“Well, the boys in general, you’re like some superhero to them or something. Did you save the world while you went missing?” he jokes, watching you closely for a reaction.

He almost expects you to get mad at the word ‘missing’ but instead you snort at his words.

“They talk about you just as much, it's kind of annoying.” you lie. You don't actually mind them talking about Eddie, if you were being honest with yourself, you love it when they talk about him, you love learning new things about him but it makes you sad every time.

Hearing them talk about how funny he is, how kind and sweet he is to them is just a reminder of how much he hates you and it hurts, even though you would've never admit it to yourself or to him- it hurts how much he hates you.

The person that saved your life was also the person that hated you with a passion.

Of course he doesn't know that he is the reason that you are still alive, that he is the one who kept you sane, who helped you stay alive. He was the one that gave you comfort, the one that made you feel warm when you were surrounded by nothing but the freezing cold and the darkness that would've taken over you if it wasn't for him. He doesn't know any of that and he never will. You tried to keep your distance from him because it hurt to be around him when he kept looking at you like that. When he would sit across the room and glare daggers into you, when he shows you how much he hates you while you-

“They do?” Eddie asks, surprised, a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah!” you nod, the surprised look in his eyes almost makes you sad. It’s like he can’t believe that someone likes him this much “especially Dustin, he never shuts up about you, always talking about your campaigns and your band.”

“Yeah, how come I’ve never seen you here?” he asks now that you have mentioned his band.

“Well, I don’t work on Tuesdays.” you shrug.

“Why not?”

Seriously?

“I don’t know, I don’t want to ruin your nights since you already have to see me at school everyday.” you say, tilting your head, you watch his expression change from curious to confused, almost making you chuckle.

“What?”

“Don’t you remember what you said to me once?” you ask as you look at him expectedly but he only shrugs in response, waiting for you to keep going “nothing ruins my day more than having to see your fucking face every day- that’s what you said to me, so... I'm doing us both a favor.” you shrug, masking the pain with a sarcastic smile on your face, he doesn't need to know how much he's hurting you.

Fuck. Eddie stares at you, as much as you try to hide the pain in your eyes, he can still see it. He knows that he is too hard on you sometimes, that he’s too much of an asshole, that you don't deserve any of the shit he gives you but for some reason he never thought about how you feel when he gets so cruel. He actually thought you didn't care, considering you don't even pay attention to him anymore.

“Thought you’d say you’re busy with your boyfriend or something.” he mumbles, not knowing what else to say.

“What?”

“Steve, isn't he, your boyfriend?” he asks, annoyed.

You furrow your brows in confusion “w-what, Steve and I, we aren’t-” you pause, staring at him with even more confusion on your face as his eyes widen. Everything moves so quickly, you don't even realize what's happening until his standing right in front of you, between your parted legs, hand reaching out to cup your face as he gently holds the bandana under your nose “you sure those don't happen often?” he mumbles.

Your eyes are wide, your lips are parted as you stare at him, he’s right in front of you, his hand is resting against your cheek as he wipes the blood away. You don’t even care about the blood right now or what might cause it, you are too surprised by his actions. Your heart is beating against your rip cage, your skin feels on fire from where he’s touching you.

The annoyed look in his eyes was replaced by something else, something you can’t fully make out, was that concern? No. It can’t be.

“Seriously, you should see a doctor or something, this is getting weird.” he mumbles as his eyes meet yours “here.” taking your hand in his, he guides it towards the bandana. You gulp, closing your hand around it, you almost miss his touch when he pulls his hand away.

You stare at each other for a moment, you are confused by his actions, you are confused by him.

His eyes you slowly, you are close enough for him to smell your sweet perfume, close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off you, your skin feels soft beneath his hand, being so close to you makes him feel weird and he hates it, he hates how much he likes it and he hates the way you always look at him. There’s always this look in your eyes, the one that makes him feel all confused and weird. When you’re not annoyed with him and his rude behavior, you always stare at him so.. so longingly. Your eyes are filled with sadness and pain and somehow it gets even more intense when you look at him and it’s so intense.

Blinking, he steps away from you, clearing his throat.

“It’s gonna get all dirty, Eddie.” you mumble, pulling the bandana away from you but he stops you and pushes your hand back against your nose.

“Doesn’t matter, just keep it.” he mumbles, coldly, not meeting your eyes. He shouldn't have gotten this close, he shouldn't have touched you.

“I’ll give it back.” you say as you pull it away, cringing at the blood stains “after I washed it.”

“Just keep it, y/n.” he says almost angrily.

He doesn't know why he’s so angry all of the sudden or who the anger is directed at, is at you or at himself?

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson angst #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines

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