#&then he paused again&as he finished up he was like 'youre very brave' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingsbychlo · 8 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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floralcyanide · 5 months

Text

ɪғ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪs ᴡʀᴏɴɢ, I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ — ʜɪꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴘʀᴏꜰᴇꜱꜱᴏʀ!ᴊᴏʜɴ “ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ” ᴇɢᴀɴ (Part Two)

john “bucky” egan x fem!reader (nsfw)

You finally have that dinner Dr. Egan promised.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23-25, Bucky is in his 40s), smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, face riding, cum eating

word count: 1.5k

author’s note: as requested, here is the second part of the fic part of the series!! I hope yall enjoy (:

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

based on this song | (If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Wanna Be Right - Barbara Mandrell

(the use of "Dr. Egan" is dropped by pov towards the end of the fic.)

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

You’re very much aware of Dr. Egan’s eyes on you, drinking in your appearance. You had decided on a nicer dress for the dinner that your superior had promised. And ever since you’ve arrived at the table he had reserved, his eyes have done nothing but wander. You couldn’t help but stare as well, admiring the patch of chest revealed by Dr. Egan’s button-down. He had some graying hair there, and from what you could see, he was still very toned. Dr. Egan had let his hair be natural today without much product, and it curled stunningly. You wanted so badly to run your hands through it. You had not forgotten why he had offered dinner in the first place. And apparently, neither had he. After you had finished your meals and glasses of wine, you felt a hand on your knee.

“What do you say we get out of here?”

So here you are, walking into Dr. Egan’s home yet again. This time, the purpose is different, and the tension is thick. He walks over to the record player and puts on something before sitting on the couch. He pats a hand on his thigh, motioning for you to sit. You nervously walk over to where Dr. Egan sits and slowly perch yourself on his thigh. His hands find your hips, comfortably massaging your flesh through the fabric of your dress. You look down at him- there’s a small smile resting on his face and something gleaming in his eye.

You boldly take hold of Dr. Egan’s face, eagerly pressing your lips to his. You can feel his light stubble underneath your palms. He moves you up further along his thigh until your knee is flush against him, and the contact makes him groan into the kiss quietly. You take the opportunity to slip your tongue through Dr. Egan’s lips, battling him for dominance. You willingly let him take over, nearly jumping out of your skin when he presses your hips down against his leg. But your shock is quickly replaced with pleasure as Dr. Egan guides your body against his thigh. The movement of your hips brings your knee into his slowly hardening bulge at a delicious angle.

“Just like that,” Dr. Egan sighs, “So pretty sitting on my thigh like this.”

“I’d be prettier sitting somewhere else,” you say out loud, not entirely meaning to.

But your words hang in the air like a promise.

Dr. Egan pauses his movements, his grip stilling on your hips, “Like where?”

You gulp, bravely running your hands across his face and through his hair, “Here.”

“My face?” Dr. Egan smirks, and you feel your ears burn.

“Yes,” you bite your lip, “Is that okay?”

“Couldn’t imagine anything finer,” Dr. Egan grins, moving you off his lap so you could stand up and he could lay down on the couch.

He takes a pillow and shoves it under his head as he makes himself comfortable, his hand reaching out for yours, “Ready?”

You slip your fingers underneath the band of your underwear, letting it slide down your legs before you step out of them and your shoes. You carefully climb over Dr. Egan’s face, planting your knees on the sides of the pillow as you hover. He grabs your thighs, pulling you down flush against his mouth, where his tongue immediately darts out to lick a stripe up your slit.

“So wet already? All for me, hmm?”

“All for you, Dr. Egan.”

He pulls away momentarily, “I told you to call me John, sweetheart.”

You chuckle, wiggling your hips against his nose, “Okay, John.”

John hums contently as he laps up your wetness, moving his tongue to swirl your essence around your clit before he suckles it gently, making you moan quietly. He does the action again, suckling a little harder to make you moan louder. He succeeds, and your hips buck against his face as you grow louder with every sharp suck of your bundle of nerves. John starts fucking you with his tongue, letting his nose prod your clit. as you ride his face without shame. Your fingers grip his curly hair harshly as John eats you like he’s starving, and your cunt is his first meal in forever. You feel yourself growing close to the edge as the older man doesn’t let up on eating you out.

“I’m close,” you warn, panting as you snap your shaky hips forward.

John moves his head from side to side, flattening his tongue against your clit as he brings you to your orgasm. You feel yourself gush on his tongue as you ride his face slowly, letting your orgasm fizzle into a high. John licks you clean of your cum and arousal, despite your mewls of overstimulation.

“Your turn,” you say, catching your breath as you climb off John’s face and settle on his lap.

You palm him through his dress pants, causing him to grab your wrist.

“I wanna ride something else now, John,” you say, a mischievous smile taking over your features, “Is that okay?”

John’s grip on your wrist loosens, and he allows you to unzip his pants and pull him out of them. You lazily stroke him a few times before moving up on his lap, gathering your wetness on the tip of his length before slowly pushing onto it. John hisses at the feeling of you enveloping him, your cunt swallowing every inch of him greedily. His hands grip your hips as you take him fully.

“Been thinking about this view for a while,” John admits, and you can’t help but smile.

“Really?’ you ask, letting yourself adjust to the feeling of him inside you before pulling off and slamming back down, “How is it?”

“Fuck,” John curses, “It’s good, very good.”

His hands move to squeeze your breasts through your dress, and much to John’s delight, you aren’t wearing a bra underneath. His thumbs brush over your pebbled nipples as you gain a steady rhythm, rocking yourself against his hips. John runs his hands all over your clothed body, wishing he could see you naked. But he’s too distracted by the dragging of your walls along his length to think about doing anything else.

“I’m glad to impress you, John. Or should I say Dr. Egan?”

John growls lowly at that, snapping his hips upward to match your pace.

“I hope my performance is everything you hoped for,” you tease, your hands finding the buttons to his shirt and popping them open. You let your palms move across his chest, your nails grazing the hair that scatters the expanse of it.

“Never thought I’d see the day that my star pupil would be riding me,” John plays along to your professor-student comment, “I’d like it even better if she came on my cock like the good girl she is.”

Your moans are audible by now, the pleasure becoming too much to remain silent. The feeling of your older counterpart hitting your cervix dead-on is dizzying. Your nails start to press into the skin of John’s chest as you feel your second orgasm creeping up into your abdomen. You raise your stuttering hips up almost entirely off of John’s body before pushing back down as hard as possible, fucking him with what energy you have left.

“You relax, baby. I got the rest,” John flips the two of you over, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder as he pounds into you.

This maneuver takes you by surprise, but you allow him to take you on the couch like you dreamed of ever since you felt that spark between you. You never would have guessed your pursuit for your M.A. would end up like this, but the feeling of you sinking deeper into the couch with every thrust makes it worth it. John feels himself losing control as your cunt flutters around him, on the edge of convulsion as your orgasm begins to take hold. You cry out, gripping John’s biceps as you feel him hit the spot inside you perfectly, and it sends you to the point of no return. You cum around him hard, causing him to finally spill inside you with a groan.

You’re gasping for air as John pulls out of you, rushing to the restroom for a hand towel to clean you with. He’s gentle and waits for you to come back to Earth on your own time.

“You alright, doll?”

You nod, putting a hand on his cheek as he leans down to give a soft kiss on the lips.

“I just thought I’d remind you your thesis is due to me next week,” John cracks a smile, and you throw the pillow behind your head at him.

“Ruined it,” you roll your eyes, “Ruined my high, John. But thanks for the reminder.”

Then you realize you have another year and a half to spend working alongside John- Dr. Egan. And you wonder how that will work out after all of this.

#mota #masters of the air #masters of the air au #john bucky egan #john egan #bucky egan #john bucky egan x reader #john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #masters of the air fanfic #callum turner #callum turner x reader #john bucky egan smut #john bucky egan x reader smut #john egan smut #john egan x reader smut #bucky egan smut #bucky egan x reader smut #floralcyanide writes

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piratefishmama · 10 months

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Fake it 'till you make it | Part 19

They did eventually get to the closet, but only because Lynda knocked on the door and followed up with “Steven, when you’re finished unpacking we should really do some grocery shopping, the kitchen is… a little barren. Your father is getting peckish and you and I both know what he’s like when he’s hungry.”

Eddie had looked up at him from where he’d rested his head atop Steve’s chest, big brown eyes curious but the question wasn’t voiced. It didn’t have to be.

“He gets… bitchy, it’s not pretty.” Steve looked back toward the door and responded a little louder with “We’ll be down in about thirty! Got a little… side-tracked!” Eddie’s forehead hit his chest again, and Steve could feel the smile on Eddie’s lips appear against his chest.

“We haven’t been to a drug store, Steven, you better be being safe in there.”

“Not like that!” The drawn out ‘uh-huh’ that Lynda replied with told him that she believed nothing. Guilty until proven innocent, and the pretty set of hickies lining Eddie’s throat were prime evidence that Steve knew she’d eventually use against him. “I was thinking getting something delivered anyway”

“Well, whatever we do, hurry up, plenty of time to kiss your boyfriend later.” And the click of her departing heels down the stairs ended that conversation. They got the closet figured out shortly after. They only had a week at the chalet, and Eddie would have probably just lived out of his suitcase for that long, but unpacking was a thing the Harringtons did, so he got to see his clothes mixed in with preppy polos and extremely soft dark green and maroon sweaters that he had every intention of stealing while there.

He got to see what it’d be like to share his space with someone else. Someone who wanted to share their space with him, not by necessity, not because it’d simply ‘save space’, but by desire to.

He was being very brave about how much that affected him. Very brave indeed. Didn’t even get choked up. Not even a little bit. And sure, Steve may have, after looking at him for a second, felt the totally unrelated need to pause, lift Eddie’s bangs up and plant a kiss atop his forehead that made Eddie’s poor little queer heart do loop de loops.

But that was definitely unrelated.

And then it was back to the ruse. Back to the company of the senior Harringtons downstairs. Lynda taking one look at Eddie, her eyes clearly dipping down below his face, then looked to Steve with the most ‘I know what you’ve been doing’ expression Eddie had ever seen in his life.

He pitied the people who had to go up against this woman in court Jesus H. Christ.

She said nothing on the subject though, content to continue on as if she hadn’t just been telepathically yelling I KNEW IT at her son. It wasn’t even aimed at him yet Eddie still felt the urge to hide behind his own hair in embarrassment. “Have you boys decided on what you want to do? Groceries or delivery?”

“Delivery” Steve wasn’t even flinching. The confidence on that man was astounding. Although seeing the people he came from? Not surprising. “We can go for groceries tomorrow and I haven’t had Tony’s in over a year.”

“Tony’s?” Eddie whispered curiously.

“Pizza” Steve supplied without looking, just leaned a little closer before pulling away again.

“Oh Steven no, it was nothing but grease last time!”

“That’s the best part!”

“I refuse to have a break out at my age Steven, especially one caused by pizza grease. So, unless you can think of another place for delivery, we’re going for groceries and we’ll cook something.” It was like a battle of titans, Steve hands on his hips, cocked in that judgemental mother kind of way, and Lynda with her arms crossed, expression making her appear a cold immovable force of nature.

Neither of them budging.

“Eddie” Eddie jumped as John caught his attention from the left, the man leaning around his wife to address him “tie breaker, as our surprise guest, what do you think we should do?” And then all eyes were on him.

He liked Pizza. He loved pizza, pizza was great, but—but despite his entire life being led going against rich people and their bullshit, he… actually wanted these people to like him. Plus, groceries would be a good idea! They could get snacks, drinks, things they wouldn’t have for the evening if they just settled with Pizza. Could stop at the drug store for. Reasons.

“Uh—Uhm—well… Pizza is good, I like pizza” Steve smiled at him, and he felt bad, just a little, for what he was about to do “but—” the smile fell betrayal, he was betraying his faux boyfriend. He’d pay for that one, undoubtedly. “Groceries would be a better idea, right? I mean if we want food or snacks later we’ll be shit out of luck. So maybe we save pizza for later in the week? So if someone doesn’t want pizza… they have other options?” He was making a very mature decision, thinking very hard, all while Steve looked at him like he’d just kicked his puppy. “Stevieee, baby, don’t—”

“You agreed with my mother—”

“Well as usual, I am right, Steven.”

“Lynda please.” John chastised quietly.

“I am!” Both parents went largely ignored by Eddie in favour of focusing on Steve, who looked appropriately devastated to have been voted against by his own boyfriend.

“Eddie, you—this is just—the betrayal.” And people called him the theatre kid. Eddie, in all his years DMing in Hellfire, had seen many a stubborn meltdown, and so he could have predicted what was about to be said long before Steve voiced it, but it didn’t make him internally judge the man any less, because wow. “Well I’m not driving.” And there it was, the pout. His arms relocating from his hips, to cross over his chest, mirroring his mother. Gone was the need to make it up to him, gone was the feeling of letting down the man who’d rapidly gone from ‘fake boyfriend’ to ‘man of my dreams’.

Eddie just kind of wanted to dunk his head in some snow. Maybe go throw him in the nearby lake.

“Oh that’s really mature, Steven.” Lynda rolled her eyes, and once again, Eddie found himself agreeing. God who was he? Since when did he agree with peoples parents?

“Fine, I can drive.” John clapped his thighs, then rose from his seat “Eddie, since you’re clearly the only other adult in this room, how about you come with me.” It may have put the eldest of the Harringtons in the hot seat to say, both his son and his wife turning the daggers on him, but Eddie felt a sliver of respect for the man just creeping up on him because damn, maybe he was bitchy when he was hungry. “Let the children cool down for an hour or so.” Good lord almighty, why was this attractive?

Oooh don’t go there, brain.

“O—okay, okay yeah, uhm… will… will you be okay, Steve?” Steve gave him an exaggerated eye roll that absolutely did nothing to make Eddie feel bad. In fact it did the exact opposite. “Fine you big baby. And people call me dramatic.” He was going to give Steve a quick peck goodbye, but Steve didn’t deserve one!

So, he left with that, following John to the car leaving the mother and son duo seething in the living room. Glorious.

Part 21

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU #they're honestly as bad as each other

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ltash · 4 months

Text

Carrying his child.

Finding out you're pregnant with Simon's child.

"I saw that you were perfect, and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more." – Angelita Lim

After finishing breakfast, I followed Ghost to his room. He was packing.

"So you're leaving me finally!" I said.

"It isn't like that. I am getting deployed. Will catch up with ya later." He said while folding his clothes and putting them neatly in his suitcase.

I started helping him.

"Soap will teach you how to shoot a sniper while he is here," he said.

"But he cannot fulfill the void, your void, Simon!" I said, my voice tinged with a mix of frustration and sadness.

He paused, looking up at me, his eyes softening for a moment before he resumed packing. "I know, love. But duty calls. You understand that, don't you?"

I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "I do. But it doesn't make it any easier."

He straightened up, closing the suitcase and pulling me into his arms. "I'll be back before you know it," he murmured against my hair. "And until then, remember that you're never truly alone. I'm always with you, in some way."

I buried my face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, trying to commit it to memory. "Just come back to me," I whispered.

He kissed the top of my head, holding me tightly. "I promise," he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "I'll always come back to you."

Tears started to well up in my eyes. I broke out in sobs. "You know these walls, this huge space I call home, they gnaw at me when I am alone. One day Johnny will have to leave. What would I do without you, my love?" I sobbed.

He cupped my face and wiped my tears with his thumb. "You are my girl and I need my girl to be brave. Do you understand?" he said, his voice steady but full of emotion.

I nodded, trying to pull myself together, feeling the warmth of his touch anchoring me. "I'll try, Simon. For you."

"That's all I ask," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Just hold on. I'll be back before you know it."

He took his sniper case and opened it on the bed, removing the sniper and presenting it to me. "Here, Nora. Take care of it. It's yours now."

I took it from his hands, my fingers trembling as I felt the weight of it. "I have fought wars with it, and it's very close to my heart. That's why I'm giving it to you. Use it on your enemies, just in case. Johnny will teach you," he said, his voice steady yet filled with emotion.

I looked at him, tears blurring my vision. His presence, his strength, everything about him was etched into this weapon. My trembling hands gripped the rifle, feeling its cold metal against my skin.

He rolled his balaclava up to his forehead, revealing his face. His lips touched mine in a gentle kiss, filled with love and longing. I didn't want him to pull away, wishing time would stay still, keeping us in this moment forever. But reality was relentless, and he eventually drew back, leaving me with the rifle and the memory of his touch.

"Come, take my hand. The helicopter's waitin'," he said, taking my hand into his.

We climbed the stairs to my roof where Captain Price, Soap, and Gaz were already standing.

"We're leaving now, kid. We had a very good time here," Captain Price said.

"Captain Price! After my father's death, you've been like a father to me. I'm grateful you came here and spent time with me." I hugged him tightly.

Gaz came over and hugged me too. "Thanks, Nora, for all of that," he said.

"Mention not, Gaz," I replied.

Simon still held my hand, a comforting presence by my side.

"See ya again, LT!" Soap said, punching Simon's chest playfully.

Simon stood with me as they all boarded the helicopter. The blades started to move, creating a deafening roar.

"See you again, sweetheart," Simon said, turning to go, but I grabbed his hand and hugged him fiercely.

"I love you, Simon," I whispered.

"I love you too, Nora," he whispered back.

Captain Price couldn't hear our conversation, but I could see the suspicion in his eyes, his doubts about us beginning to take form.

I touched my lips with my fingers and then pressed my fingers against his masked lips, not caring about what Captain Price might think. Simon pointed his fingers towards his eyes and then to mine, gesturing that he would be coming back for me.

With that, he stepped inside the helicopter. Johnny and I stood there, watching as the helicopter ascended and flew away. I stood there long after it had disappeared into the sky, feeling the emptiness settle in.

Tears were flowing from my eyes, and Johnny noticed.

"It's awright, Nora. He'll be back when he's free. Until then, I'm here. Ye won't be bored, I promise." He chuckled.

"Thanks, Johnny," I said, climbing down the stairs with him following after me.

"Make yourself at home, Johnny," I said as I entered Simon's room and closed the door. His room felt empty without him.

I sat on the bed holding the sniper he gave me, touching it and thinking about how he had used it. It was a piece of him which he gave me. I noticed his grey hoodie lying on the bed. He left it there.

I held it close, taking in his scent, the musky cologne. It smelled of him. I laid on the bed holding it close, my face toward the balcony door where rays of sunlight entered the room. The bed, the sheets, everything smelled of him, and I wanted to envelop myself in his vibes.

I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep again with him on my mind.

It was almost lunchtime when I woke up.

I stood and opened the door. The faint voice of laughing grew nearer as I descended the stairs. There I saw Soap standing in the living room, talking to the chef and laughing at his own silly jokes.

"What's going on here?" I asked.

"Ach, nothin'. I was just tellin' her some jokes that I tell LT," Soap replied.

"Aye, Nora! Ye play games? Uno, Ludo, Monopoly?" he asked.

"Only Ludo, but nobody is here to play with me."

"Ye go tae the gym?" he asked.

"Yes, I have my own gym here. I haven't worked out in a while as Simon was here."

"Sure LT would have used it. He loves tae work out," he said.

"No, he didn't either," I replied.

"I'll show you the gym after lunch but let's eat something first," I said and went inside the kitchen to help the chef.

"Hey Johnny! Tell me anything about Ghost," I asked.

"Aye, lass! Ghost? Ah, he's a fine listener, ye ken? No one for idle chatter, but when he does speak, it's worth listenin' to. And when it comes to crackin' jokes, he's a right laugh, especially among us," Johnny replied in his Scottish brogue.

"Well! Simon said you'll show me how to shoot a sniper," I said.

"Aye! I'll teach ye," Johnny confirmed.

As the day progressed, I found myself immersed in conversation with Johnny. He was quite the charmer, with an infectious smile that lit up the room. He had a great sense of humor and was incredibly friendly.

"Aye lass! Let's play a game. Whit were ye sayin' before, which game ye play?" Johnny asked.

"Ludo," I said.

"Let's play Ludo then," he said.

"Sorry Johnny! I have to attend an online meeting. You can watch TV if you are getting bored." I said.

"Aye, lass, which meeting are ye off to?" Johnny inquired.

"It's my father's company, a pharma business. I'm running it now. I'll be joining the office from tomorrow, so you'll be on your own," I explained.

"I'll come wi' ye. Would love to see yer company," he offered.

"You sure? You won't get bored?" I asked.

"Nah, it's fine. I'm here tae keep ye safe," he replied confidently.

A month later,

I was sitting in the meeting room of my company. It was almost time to leave. Johnny did not accompany me today.

As I stood up, my head spinning, I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me. The room seemed to blur, and I struggled to maintain my balance. I reached out to steady myself, grasping the edge of the table as I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

"Are you okay, Nora?" my colleague asked, concern evident in their voice.

I nodded weakly, forcing a smile. "I'm fine, just feeling a bit lightheaded. I think I need some fresh air."

With shaky steps, I made my way out of the meeting room and into the corridor. Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. The world spun around me, and I felt a sense of unease settle in the pit of my stomach.

I sat in my car, the wave of dizziness and nausea was overwhelming.

As I arrived at my mansion, exhaustion weighed heavily upon me. Johnny was there, waiting for me. But as I entered, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over me, and before I could react, darkness enveloped my vision, and I fell unconscious.

When I woke, Johnny was kneeling beside me, concern etched on his face. He had caught me before I hit the ground, his strong arms supporting me.

"Are you alright, lass?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.

I groaned softly, my head throbbing with pain. "I... I don't know. I felt dizzy and then... everything went black."

Johnny helped me sit up, his steady presence a reassuring anchor in the midst of my confusion. "We need to get you checked out, Nora. This ain't normal."

I nodded weakly, grateful for his concern. With Johnny's support, I managed to stand, albeit unsteadily. Together, we made our way to the nearest couch, where I sank down, feeling utterly drained.

As Johnny fetched a glass of water, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered within me. Something was wrong, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. All I knew was that I needed answers, and fast.

"I think I should call my doctor," I muttered, dialing his number.

Dr. William arrived within half an hour. "How are you, young woman? Aren't you taking care of yourself?" he asked.

"I don't know what's happening. I think it might be iron deficiency," I replied.

"Where's your friend, Nora?" he asked.

"You mean Simon?" I asked back.

"Yes," he replied.

"He's in the army, so he had to go back," I explained.

"And who is this gentleman?" Dr. William pointed towards Soap.

"He's my friend. Like a little brother," I said.

"Hmm. Low blood pressure, low sugar... What are you doing, kid?" he huffed.

"I'm taking a blood sample. We'll run some tests and I'll send you the reports ASAP," Dr. William said.

Dr. William took my sample and left.

"You should tell LT about this," Soap said, concerned.

"Tell what? It's just normal, nothing unexpected," I replied. "I should go rest." I headed to my room.

Sitting on the bed, another wave of nausea hit me. I rushed to the bathroom to vomit.

"I think I caught a stomach bug," I messaged Simon.

After messaging Simon, I rinsed my mouth and returned to my room, feeling utterly exhausted. I laid down on the bed, trying to ignore the lingering nausea. My phone buzzed with a reply from Simon.

"Are ya alright, love? Do ya need me to come back?" Simon's concern was evident even through the text.

"No, I'll be fine. Just need some rest," I typed back, though I wished he could be here with me.

Johnny knocked gently on my door. "Nora, you okay in there?"

"Yeah, Johnny. Just feeling a bit off," I said, my voice weak.

"Need anythin'? Some water, tea, maybe?" he offered.

"Water would be nice, thanks," I replied, managing a small smile.

Johnny returned quickly with a glass of water. "Here ya go. Rest up, alright?"

"Thanks, Johnny," I said, taking a sip.

As I settled back into bed, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. The nausea, the dizziness, the fatigue—it all felt too much to be just a stomach bug. But for now, all I could do was wait for Dr. William's call with the test results.

Hours passed, and I drifted in and out of a restless sleep. Finally, my phone rang. It was Dr. William.

"Nora, I got your results. Can you talk?"

"Yes, Dr. William, please tell me," I said, my heart pounding.

"Your iron levels are indeed low, and you have low blood pressure and low blood sugar, which explains your dizziness and nausea. However, there's something else. Have you missed your period recently?"

My breath caught in my throat. "Yes, I have. What does that mean?"

"Nora, I think you might be pregnant. We'll need to do a confirmation test, but the symptoms and your blood work suggest it."

Pregnant? The word echoed in my mind. I thanked Dr. William and ended the call, feeling a mix of shock, joy, and fear. How would I tell Simon? What would this mean for us?

I decided not to share this with Johnny yet. It felt too personal, too raw to discuss with anyone before Simon knew. I needed time to process this on my own.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed when Johnny knocked on my door again. "Nora? Ya look like you've seen a ghost. Everythin' alright?"

"Just tired, Johnny. Thanks for the water," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Johnny, I've got to go see Simon," I told him as I hurriedly threw some clothes into my suitcase.

"Everythin' alright, Nora?" Johnny asked, concern etched on his face.

"Yeah, just...something important came up. I need to talk to him face-to-face," I said, avoiding eye contact.

"Alright, if ye need anythin', let me know," Johnny replied, his worry evident but respectful of my need for privacy.

I had told Johnny not to inform Simon that we were coming to see him. Dr. William had emailed me the test report, and I had it ready to show Simon. When the helicopter landed on the base, Johnny stepped out first, offering me a hand to help me down.

I wore simple white joggers, a long figure-hugging jersey dress, and a denim jacket. As I stepped onto the base, I could feel all eyes on me. Johnny grabbed my suitcase and led the way inside the building. The stares followed me as I walked, my heart pounding with anticipation.

Johnny carried my suitcase inside while I continued my search for Simon. I found him in the briefing room with Captain Price and Gaz, all of them engrossed in a discussion over a map. Simon was leaning on the desk, his focus on the map. I stood in the doorway, crossing my arms over my chest, waiting for him to notice me.

Suddenly, his eyes lifted and met mine. A look of surprise and concern flashed across his face.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley," I said, my voice steady but carrying the weight of the news I was about to share. "We need to talk."

He straightened up, his expression shifting to one of immediate seriousness. "Nora? What are ya doin' here?"

Captain Price and Gaz exchanged curious glances but remained silent. Simon quickly walked over to me, concern evident in his eyes. "Let's go somewhere private," he said softly.

We walked out of the room and found a quiet spot outside. Simon turned to me, his eyes searching mine. "What's goin' on, love?"

I took a deep breath and handed him the printed email from Dr. William. "Simon, I'm pregnant," I said, my voice trembling slightly.

He looked down at the paper, then back up at me, his eyes wide with shock. "Pregnant?" he repeated, as if needing to hear it again to believe it.

I nodded. "I wanted to tell you in person. This is big, Simon. It changes everything."

He stood there for a moment, processing the news. Then, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. "We'll get through this, Nora. Together. I'm here for ya, no matter what."

Tears of relief and joy welled up in my eyes as I held onto him. "I was so scared, Simon. But hearing you say that...it makes everything better."

He kissed the top of my head, his voice full of love and determination. "We'll figure it out, love. One step at a time. Now, let's get you settled and take care of ya and our little one."

#cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #task force 141 #task force x reader

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m-jelly · 6 months

Note

Hi, Jelly!! I have an idea for a request based on a movie i watched once. I also love Dragon Levi theme. So…

Reader is s Princess who marries the some hero. During the wedding ceremony, in memory of the feat of his ancestor, she sing a ritual song with which they used to summon the dragon; to everyone's surprise and horror, the dragon actually flies in and carries away the bride. She finds herself a prisoner on a sea island, where she meets a strange young man names Levi.

She is very soon finds out that Levi is the dragon who kidnapped her. He lives in human form, but sometimes against his will he turns into a dragon, and at these moments he cannot control himself.

Levi wants to be human and is afraid of harming reader. She communicates with Levi, teaches him to live like a human being. Meanwhile, Levi falls in love with a girl and trusts her more and more; she, torn between sympathy for man and fear of the dragon. Levi lets the girl go, deciding for himself that he should not be a man, and not understanding how to live further.

Reader returns home. Her wedding is being prepared again, but the girl already understands that she does not want this marriage, since she does not love the groom. At the last moment, the princess begins to sing a ritual song. Levi, on the island at this time, manages to turn into a dragon, flies in and takes princess.

The dragon Levi and reader fly away. On the island, the dragon throws the girl on the altar, but she shows no fear, kisses the dragon and confesses her love to him. The dragon stops... and carefully places his head on her lap.

Several years have passed. Levi and reader live together on the island, their daughter is growing up; since the island is enchanted, they are safe. Reader flies on her dragon husband: he is no longer dangerous to her.

A maiden's call

Levi x fem!reader

Dragon Levi, royal AU, fluff, romance, falling in love, becoming a couple, multiple sections.

Most of the plot is in the ask.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously

After the last bit of your outfit was put on you, a long sigh escaped you. The more you gazed at yourself in the mirror the more your heart ached. It was the princess's duty to marry a just and courageous man. A man had been selected for you and today was the day you would marry him.

As you went to the outdoor temple for your wedding, you couldn't help but think when you saw birds flying. What you wouldn't give to be free like them and fly away. The man you were marrying was handsome, brave and a beloved hero who held a deep affection for you.

The hero gazed at you as your union was spoken about. All eyes were on you when it was time for you to carry out tradition. With a deep inhale you started singing a song to honour the ancestors of yours and the hero's family. The sweet lyrics and your voice drifted through the warm breeze and moved across the ocean to a sleeping beast desperate for love.

Once the song was finished the room was left in silence due to the pure awe the audience was in. A part of you hoped that maybe an ancient dragon would be summoned to take you away, but you knew it was false hope. You turned to the hero right after you sighed.

He offered his hand to you. "Princess."

You reached for his hand but a distant and deep roar made you pause. Both the hero and the King called for you, but you ignored them because more roars were getting closer. A chill went through your body as a deep and loud horn was blown, it was a horn that hadn't been blown in countless years.

A dragon was coming.

Madness and panic set into the people at your wedding. You watched as people began sprinting out of the temple. The hero pulled out his sword and declared to protect you before racing out with the other knights outside the temple. You remained though.

A gust of wind went through the temple as a deep blowing growl rumbled the building. As soon as you turned around you cast your eyes upon a huge black-scaled dragon with the most beautiful steel-blue eyes. It landed on the top of the temple and stared at you.

Warm air surged from the dragon as it breathed out. Entranced by the creature, you slowly reached out for it as you began singing the summoning song to it. Whether it was your imagination or something else, but you could have sworn its gaze softened for you.

The moment was so calming and gentle, but it was ruined by the cry of the hero. The dragon was instantly irritated by seeing the armoured man and launched into action. Its big claw wrapped around you before it pushed up with its wings and shot up into the sky.

You gazed below at your father and the hero shouting for you, but you weren't scared. As the claw of the dragon held you so gently and you travelled across the land, you felt free.

Island life had been rather nice for you. Levi had been sweet as anything to you. It seemed like he was the only other human on the island. When you gazed at him you felt a fire inside you, but there was just something so wonderful about his eyes.

Today was a day out together. There was a sparkle in your eyes as Levi held your hand and pulled you along the path. The way he cared for you moved your heart. All the clothes he made for you were so flattering and flowing on you.

As you rounded the corner you felt breathless at the views before you. Sunlight glistened off the waterfall and pool. Life around the pool was vibrant and hypnotic to you. It was so peaceful being here you weren't sure if you ever wanted to leave.

Levi pulled you closer. "Sit, enjoy."

You sat down and let your aches wash away. "Levi, do you want something to eat? I made sure to pack plenty."

He sat close to you. "Please."

You handed him food you had made just for him and smiled as he tucked in. "You like it?"

"I do."

You reached over and cleaned his cheek. "Cute."

A pink blush covered his cheeks as he stammered your name. "You...I'm...ah..." He panted a little before clutching his chest. "Ngh."

You cupped his face. "Talk to me, Levi. I'm here for you."

He ripped himself away from you and began panting. "I...I'm sorry."

A blast of hot air hit you and sent you into the pool. As you sank slowly you gazed up to see something big and black grow up before looking down at you. Pressure built up in your lungs as you struggled to breathe.

You shot up and gasped in air but felt like the air was sucked out of you right away when the black dragon stared at you. An urge pushed you to reach out towards him, everything was telling you to touch its face.

The dragon pondered your actions before snarling and snapping at your hand. Just as it snapped, you pulled your hand back just in time. With quick movements you started swimming fast and towards the waterfall. Panic and fear burned into your body as the dragon stomped behind you and snapped at the air.

You dove down under the water and began swimming as fast as possible. With a burst of strength, you threw yourself out of the water and through the waterfall. Rocks cut up your legs and hands as you crawled through the cave at the back and pressed yourself against the wall.

The racing of your heart was deafening, it even overpowered the roaring of the waterfall. Even though you placed your hands over your mouth, you felt like he would still hear you and kill you. Tears filled your eyes as you stared at the water.

The black snout of the dragon parted the water. Next, its whole head pushed under the waterfall. Its face moved closer and closer to you. The blue eyes of the dragon were locked onto you. It terrified you to see it get closer. The dragon paused a moment as it seemed to register you.

Smoke wrapped around the dragon and then dissipated to reveal a tired-looking Levi. He stumbled closer to you and dropped to his knees. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he bowed to you.

Levi gripped fit fulls of dirt and sand as he lowered his head further. He mumbled your name. "Forgive me. I cannot control myself in that form." He shook a little. "I don't want to hurt you."

You shifted closer to him. "It's okay, Levi. It's okay."

He lifted his head. "I just want to live like a human."

"I'll help you."

The laughter that came from you was like music to his ears. You had walked into his life and made it better. All he wanted was to keep you with him. His heart was filled with adoration and love for you. It was becoming clear to Levi that he had feelings for you.

It'd been a month since he revealed he was the dragon that took you from the hero. Guilt had consumed him for a while about keeping you here. While living with him, he had you teaching him how to be more human. He loved every single lesson that you gave him.

Today you were reading a book to him as he lay with his head on your lap. He was enjoying every single moment as he read to you. After reading a little, you would stop and ask him about his thoughts. Each answer you gave him made it clear you cared about everything he said.

You closed the book and placed it down on the grass. "Levi."

He sat up and gazed at you. "Yes?"

You smiled at him. "Are you the only dragon?"

He shook his head. "There is an island full of my kind, but I left because I cannot control my transformation. I didn't want to hurt anyone." He lowered his head. "I don't want to hurt you."

You leaned closer and kissed his cheek. "You've never hurt me." You smiled sweetly at him. "Your form scared me at first, but I've managed to keep safe."

He gazed deeply into your eyes. "I don't deserve you."

You hummed a laugh. "Says who? I like being here with you. You make me happy. I've never been happy like this before. For so long I was just drifting through life. When you arrived as a dragon, I felt so excited and free. Thank you for bringing me here."

Levi caressed your cheek. "I wish you could stay with me."

You frowned at his words. "I don't understand what you're saying. What do you mean by that?"

He was in love with you, that was very clear to him. "You need to go home."

Tears filled your eyes as you felt your heartbreak. "You...you want me to leave?"

"It's not safe for you." He stood up. "I'm not safe. I'll end up hurting you."

You shot to your feet. "Please, Levi, don't make me leave." You wrapped your arms around him. "I don't want to go back."

Levi hugged you tightly. "I'm sorry."

You had a thousand-mile stare as you stood before a mirror dressed up in a wedding dress. A week ago you were brought back home and as soon as you arrived, the wedding was put back on track. It hurt your heart to be back and you longed to be back with Levi.

There was no denying it, you had fallen in love with Levi. Marrying the hero was a mistake and you didn't want him at all. You wanted Levi.

Walking to the temple again was all a blur. Seeing the hero next to you with a bright smile made you feel sick. He was handsome and sweet, but he wasn't Levi. No matter how much you tried to think about loving this hero, you couldn't.

As the ceremony started a knot formed in your gut. Everything inside you was telling you to run. Your body began to shake as you felt desperate to flee. You dropped your flowers, turned on your heels and then ran out of the temple as people shouted for you.

You skidded to a stop and began singing the ancient song as loud as possible Deep in your heart you called to Levi. After the song you gazed longingly out at the sea hoping the man you loved would come to you. A gasp escaped you when the hero grabbed you from behind and pulled you back.

You tried to fight the grip that was on you, but it was too strong. Everyone was saying you'd lost your mind or that the dragon had wrapped your mind, but it wasn't true. You were just in love.

A roar rumbled across the sky, your saviour was him. As soon as the hero loosened his grip, you shoved him off and sprinted away. You waved your arms and called out to Levi. A smile spread over your lips when he swooped down, grabbed you with his claw and flew off.

You wrapped your arms around his leg and hugged him tightly. "Levi."

He flew back to his island and cast your body onto a large circle covered in blankets and cushions, it was like an offering spot. He landed before you and crawled closer to you. A deep growl rumbled inside him as he stalked closer to you.

You reached up and cupped his face. "Levi." You smiled at him as tears rolled down your cheeks. "I missed you so much." You leaned closer to his snout. "I should have told you before you sent me away. I'm not afraid of you."

The dragon paused and listened.

"I think you are the most beautiful and wonderful being in the whole world." You hugged his snout. "I love you, Levi. From the bottom of my heart and soul, I love you."

As soon as you kissed his snout smoke wrapped around him and his human form appeared. Levi pulled back a little and gazed at you. "You love me?"

You nodded. "I do."

He tackled you against the covers and cushions making you giggle. "I love you so much. You are my life."

You tangled your fingers in his hair. "I'm never leaving you again."

You held your daughter's hands as she slapped her little feet on the sand. "Good girl, be careful."

Daisy looked up when she saw her dad in his dragon form fly over and land. "Dada!"

Levi lowered his large head and hummed as his daughter hugged his head. "Little flower."

You hurried over and took the bags off him. "Was my father okay?"

Levi became a human. "He is still mad that I kidnapped you." He picked up his daughter. "But he is happy to help because I protect them. Your negotiations were impressive."

"Well, I am a princess and I was taught how to rule."

Levi looked down at his daughter. "Your mummy is so cool."

Daisy clapped her hands. "Mama!"

He chuckled. "She agrees with me." He kissed her puffy cheek. "We should visit my mother soon."

"Sure." You nodded and took your daughter from Levi allowing him to carry the heavy bags to your store room. You danced with your daughter a bit before twirling around with her and into Levi's arms. "Hello, handsome."

Levi leaned down and kissed you. "Hello, my darling." He growled a little and nibbled your neck. "Can we go to the nest tonight?"

You hummed a laugh. "Someone is frisky. Yes, I would love that." You kissed him before looking down at your daughter as she made a little noise. "I think it's playtime first, right?"

Daisy giggled. "Ba, boo!"

#levi ackerman #levi #aot levi #snk levi #aot fanfiction #levi x y/n #levi x you #fanfic #levi fanfiction #levi x reader #levi x yn #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman fanfiction #jelly fanfics #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n

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kiryoutann · 9 months

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At his ripe age for marriage, Emperor Shiva ought to be more concerned with finding a wife than he is with a letter he held between his thumb and forefinger while standing in a state of shock. His birthday banquet is in two days; he should have busied himself overseeing the décor preparations and entertainment for the overseas guests, not clamping his jaw, crumpling the paper into a ball, and throwing it angrily.

"Childe.. how dare he..!" Shiva shouted, turning to face his confidant. "How dare he do something so... vile!"

From his outraged reaction, the confidant deduced that Emperor Childe had done something as awful as stab him in the back. That seems to be what he would do. But he recalled the rumors that the Snezhnayan ruler had put to death a number of his nobles for grave defamation of Liyue. He was young, yet brave enough to take drastic measures for the crimes committed during his reign. If he still harbored secretly wicked intentions toward the great Liyue empire, he shouldn't have bothered to do that, right?

So, the confidant ventured to ask: "Your Majesty, is everything all right?"

“Are you blind? Of course not!" He shoved the paper against his confidant's chest and paced back and forth in uneasiness as he waited for him to finish reading.

The handwriting was neat, still easy to read even though the paper was crumpled—thanks to Shiva. Although Liu—the poor confidant's name—kept sweeping his eyes, he couldn't help but feel guilty for reading private letters written by other people to other people. Thinking that this should only be a conversation between the Empress of Snezhnaya and the Emperor of Liyue didn't help either.

Nothing you've written is unfavorable; nothing even remotely resembles a threat or your mention of any mistreatment. It merely contained your sincere apologies to Shiva for having to send someone to attend on your and Childe's behalf, and for being unable to go due to severe morning sickness, which is typical of pregnancy's second trimester. His eyes widen. That's surprising, nonetheless, not a bad thing. He congratulated you in his heart.

Liu furrowed his brows, lowering the letter to stare at the Emperor. “Your Majesty?” he called.

Shiva halted in mid-step and fixed him with piercing eyes. "Have you read it?" His voice was firm, demanding.

“Yes, I have, but I..” When Liu sensed Shiva's intense gaze, he paused and let his words hang. As he once more held the letter up, he forced a hard swallow. “Apologies, perhaps I missed a point—”

"She's pregnant.”

Liu paused once more as his mind tried to make sense of anything. "She's pregnant." His mind went over the two phrases, trying to find something vile out of it. He stopped thinking when he felt his scalp heat up. Was this supposed to be a riddle? Before he could answer (and risk himself for failing to understand once again), Shiva blew a harsh breath from his mouth. He clenched his fists tightly, popping the veins under his skin. His handsome face were tarnished by a wrath that Liu couldn't place.

"She's pregnant. He impregnated her.” Shiva made sure to emphasize the “he” part.

From all the emphasis on his words and the movement of his fingers to accentuate everything, Liu still couldn't understand; at this point he believed he had suddenly lost his intelligence and was left with only one very overworked brain cell. He would grow wrinkles from furrowing his brows for the umpteenth time. Shiva took another sharp breath before pacing back and forth.

"Congratulations to the Emperor and Empress of Snezhnaya..?" Liu said doubtfully.

Shiva shook his head vigorously. So, it wasn't a congratulation he wanted to hear. Liu followed the Emperor briskly into his dressing room, where he saw him pick up a luggage and place it on the crimson couch. Like a madman, he took most of his clothes and stuffed it all in without even bothering to fold it properly. His confidant hastily stopped him.

“Your Majesty, what are you doing?”

The long-haired man grabbed his sword from the display and swung it open too fast that he nearly struck Liu. "I have to go to Snezhnaya." He spoke while looking at the steel and his reflection in it.

"What?!" Liu's heart skipped a beat as he hadn't expected his intonation to be that loud. He cleared his throat, then corrected: “Apologies, Your Majesty. But, are you sure?"

"Yes. Bring the maids here to prepare my belongings.” Shiva gave up trying to get all of his clothes into one luggage. He slowly placed his sword on his bed and rested his palms on his hips.

"But what of your birthday banquet in two days' time?”

“Ah, you're right.” Liu almost breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that Shiva had returned to his right mind. Shiva's next words dashed those expectations, however, as he chose to open his mouth and utter, "Send out a letter to everyone, informing them that the banquet is canceled! I shall spend my birthday week in Snezhnaya."

“B-But, Your Majesty!”

“Now, fetch me the maids. I must cleanse myself and my belongings require to be packed.” Shiva commanded as he took off his robe, leaving only his trousers on. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror but noticed that Liu hadn’t left the room. In response, the Emperor’s head rotated sharply, and his gaze went over to him with an intense expression. “What are you waiting for? Hurry and summon the maids!” he snapped.

With a huff, Liu hastily left the room and almost slipped (he cursed himself for being so unfortunate today). Maids came soon after in a rush, some preparing a warm bath for Shiva, while other maidens packed his belongings quickly and efficiently without daring to ask questions; no one ever dared to question the things Emperor Shiva did, even if they were rather illogical to the normal mind.

The news of your brother’s impromptu visit was relayed to you by Countess Sasha, who entered your reading room, bowed, and stated that Emperor Shiva was now residing within the Emerald Palace. You raised your eyebrows in surprise as you considered this revelation. Previously, during every trip to Snezhnaya, Shiva had always decided to live in the mansion he owned rather than the palace grounds. As you set down your book, you attempted to stand upright from your seated position with the assistance of Ksenia and Laura, who were each clasping one of your hands.

Your face remained puzzled, with questions about the sudden change. Why? Wasn’t there a birthday banquet scheduled for the very next day?

The sound of Sasha’s footsteps came closer before she knelt down next to you. “How are you, my lady?” Sasha inquired softly. “Does the queasiness still trouble?”

You paused for a moment to feel your body, then shook your head with a smile. “It has subsided,” you replied. Taking Laura’s hand for support, you rose from your chair.

Sasha noticed your movements and straightened respectfully. “Should you wish an audience with Emperor Shiva, may I suggest inviting him here instead of embarking on the long journey to the Emerald Palace?” Her voice was full of worry, but you couldn’t help but sigh at her words.

“Sasha, I’m with child, not on the verge of perishing,”

The Countess swiftly shook her head as she spoke. “Of course, I did not intend to imply that it was otherwise,” she hurriedly said. “however, it was His Majesty who had directed me to look after you well.” She explained, her tone coming across with genuine care and concern.

“Oh, fantastic. I can hardly break free from his shackles, can I?”

You conveyed your protest half-heartedly. The Queen Dowager had informed you that it was normal to feel dependent and in need of help while pregnant (it is an extremely significant and sensitive time for women). However, there was a stark contrast between her words and reality; it was Childe who irritated you with how much he always wanted to be by your side more than was necessary. You failed to keep track of the innumerable instances he told you that you needn’t be concerned since he possessed the knowledge and experience from his mother's pregnancy when she was expecting Teucer; however, he continued to perspire and ordered Dmitri to call for the healer each and every time you throw up from the morning sickness in the early hours.

You grimace. Upon further reflection, Dmitri deserves to receive a full year of paid leave. Even under Childe's pressure, he had performed admirably.

“Your Majesty.” Sasha stepped closer to the door and gave a warning, her frown deepening and dipping in displeasure at your defiant behavior. She was certain that if this kept up, she would age faster.

“Come now, Countess, there’s no need to worry,” You soothed, glancing down fondly at your growing belly. “You seem to forget that this child's father is Tartaglia – do you truly believe a stroll through the gardens would cause us harm?”

You caressed your swollen middle affectionately. “However, do pass me my coat, won't you? It seems the babe has inherited their mother's weakness for this country's chill autumn airs.” You continued, watching as Ksenia hurriedly grabbed a coat for you.

Ultimately, despite her doubts and a heavy heart, Sasha let you walk to see your brother. You slowly made your way out of your room and down the Golden Spire palace's lengthy hallway. Indeed, the building where the emperor and empress lived was beautiful, with the ceiling covered in intricate gold filigree work and light streaming into the hallway, illuminating the entire area. Even the pillars, which have stood for hundreds of years, still looked strong and exquisitely polished. However, the everyday scenery is quickly replaced by the stunning autumn setting as soon as you reach outside. Golden rays of the sun filter through the colorful trees and bring a warm glow to the imperial grounds. You stopped after you stepped on dry leaves, the pleasant crinkling sound of them causing a smile to tug at the corners of your lips.

“Is something the matter, Your Majesty?” As you guessed, Sasha hurriedly approached you.

“No.” You answered her while stroking your growing stomach greeting the small kick inside. With your eyes squinted from the glare of the sun, you catch another two dry leaves falling tossing and turning before they hit the ground. “Autumn is coming to an end.”

Your remark caused the three ladies-in-waiting to glance at the garden's big oak tree. “Indeed, Your Majesty.” Sasha replied to you.

“Winter is coming.” you mused again, the imperial physician's words echoed once more - the child would be a winter-born. Soon, very soon, you would hold your son or daughter in your arms at last.

Sasha nodded. “That's right,” she paused, then furrowed her brows, curious and concerned. “Is something wrong, Your Majesty?” She watched you smile before suddenly resuming your steps, requiring your ladies-in-waiting to hurriedly follow you.

The Emerald Palace building comes into sight. You noticed the vibrant blooms had faded, their petals falling to join the fiery leaves carpeting the grounds. The gurgling of water from a three-tier fountain could be heard. Your footsteps slowed at a polished figure seated solitary, chin raised with calm pride over steaming tea under a shady tree—from his posture, you easily recognized your older brother and proceeded to approach him.

“Brother.”

From that familiar voice, the young emperor turned his head sharply. (Y/N). He raked his gaze over her starting from her head—not much had changed from her hair being longer than the last time he saw her; her face was still as beautiful as before. Those luscious lips of hers should have been proof enough that somehow that bastard Tartaglia wasn't treating her badly (but Shiva knew he couldn't be too sure, after all this was Tartaglia he was talking about). His gaze, cold and flinty, traveled lower.

There, roundness was unmistakably forming where antes there had been flatness. Shiva’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as confirmation of his worst fears stared back at him—the telltale swell and curve of your belly, stretched taut with new life. His scowl twisted into a snarl.

“(Y/N).” Your name came out as a growl. “So the news is true. You carry that cad Tartaglia's spawn.” His lips curled in disgust.

A sigh escaped your lips. “His Majesty the Emperor is my husband, brother. Did you come all this way without a word, disrupting your duties, just to weigh down the father of your future niece or nephew?” You replied calmly.

Myriad full moons have come and passed, yet you remain the epitome of a lady who possessed the control and mastery over her emotions. In the past, it was a source of pride to Shiva from how you refused to break under any pressure—that if anyone wanted to find a flaw in you, their failure was all that could be found. But, now that he met your gaze with a flare of his own eyes, it irked him how you could remain so infuriatingly calm when he wanted to stir strong emotions.

“You concluded correctly, sister. My purpose is precisely to weigh that tyrant," he replied tersely. “He is unworthy of one like you. To think, my esteemed sister reduced to bearing the offspring of a mere war dog."

You gazed steadily at your brother, trying to keep a reign on your rising frustration. As Empress, you are well-practiced in diplomacy. But with family, diplomacy sometimes feels like a losing battle.

Taking a measured breath, you speak in a soft yet unyielding tone. “Ajax may have been a warrior in his youth, but he is so no longer, his battle-days are behind him. As the Emperor of Snezhnaya, he is a skilled ruler and has treated me with nothing but love and respect.”

If Shiva insists on continuing this argument, you swear—oh, you swear on God's name—to turn and walk away from him. No matter that he traveled all the way from Liyue and abandoned the birthday banquet that he called off (based on the information that Sasha brought), you're feeling the effects of the physical changes on your body and worry that you won't be able to handle much more. The babe is restless and your patience wearing thin. Another cutting remark and you might do something unwise.

Shiva was about to part his lips, and you braced yourself to hear more nonsense from him. He puffed himself like a pufferfish ready to strike, his facial expression wild and you wondered what was going on inside his head.

“I shall demand Tartaglia face me in single combat at once! For putting you in such a condition without my consent!”

You release a long-suffering sigh, one delicate hand lifted to press gloved fingers against furrowed brow. “For heaven's sake, brothers, husbands and wives tend to produce children without their siblings' approval. It's the natural way of things.”

“But you are the princess! And my sister!” Shiva sputtered. “No man touches you without my say-so!”

You massaged the bridge of your nose. “Shiva, I was married off with full blessings; and I'm an Empress now, with duties and affections of my own. Must you act stupid all the time? The child kicks as we speak, eager to meet the world, and you insist on this nonsense?” Your patience drips faster with every word Shiva says.

“He must answer for impregnating you!”

You throw your hands to the sky with failing patience. “For the love of—I'm just as responsible, you twit! Now either you end this stupidity or board the next ship before I brain you with this teapot.”

The Liyuean emperor was about to respond once more when you shot him a pointed look that silenced him for a thousand words. Shiva—the imposing and menacing Shiva—now visibly deflated like a sad balloon; anyone watching might have mistaken him for a large, pouting child rather than the mighty emperor of Liyue. His looming form seemed to shrink in on itself, broad shoulders curling forward and thick eyebrows kitting into a hurt frown.

Feeling your anger subside, you exhale bringing the last of your irritation out of your body, ready for a calmer, more reasonable conversation. “Come now, brother,” you started. “Stop sulking like a child. While you are here, I want to spend some good time with you. I've missed your company.”

Reaching out, you grabbed his larger hand trying to cheer him up. “Now then, why is it you've stayed inside the palace this time, instead of your favorite mansion as usual? Did something happen there?” You asked, your eyes narrowed with curiosity.

It was unusual for Shiva to leave the privacy of his mansion, settling at the Emerald Palace instead. It was always his habit to keep himself as far away from the radius of the Snezhnaya royal—imperial, now—family as possible. Or perhaps, as difficult as it was for your towering brother to admit, he simply wanted to spend more time with you during this visit. With a child soon to arrive, everyone will need the bonds of kinship to thrive; Shiva may have long assumed that your parents would not be on your list of expected family members, judging by your complicated relationship with your Liyuean family—duty and tradition often take precedence over emotional bonds. Shiva is the only one left as that anchor of familial closeness now more than ever.

Shiva cleared his throat gruffly, tugging at his ornate collar as if suddenly feeling confined. “Well, you know how it is. Can’t have you and that man multiplying willy-nilly before this one’s arrival, now can we?”

Your eyebrows fell in the flat, annoyed face you showed him. “Shiva, I say this with affection—producing children does not work that way.”

A hint of pink surfaced on his stately cheekbones. “Nonsense, I know precisely how these matters work. My informants keep me well-apprised.”

"Do they?" You raise a slender brow. “Somehow I doubt your informants' ‘updates' covered the specifics of pregnancy.”

Shiva harrumphed. “But, how then do twins come to be if not two planted at a time?”

You stifled a laugh. “The seed of twins quickens together through some quirk of nature, not… repetitive activities, as you suggest. One pregnancy, two babes—a blessing, not a strategy.”

The imposing Emperor of Liyue—tall and broad-shouldered, with chiseled features any sculptor with covet; yet, for all his power and prestige, in some ways, Shiva would always be the same. Small wonder the ladies of the court were forever vying for his attention, with but a glance and rumbling baritone, Shiva could make even the most steadfast knees quake. His valor in battle was legendary throughout Teyvat. As Emperor of Liyue, he commanded absolute obedience through dominance, vigilance, and cunning.

Yet for all his strength, domestic minutiae proved his bane. You have long grown accustomed to gently schooling him about the softer side of life. Babes, intimacy, and vulnerability were mystical puzzles to your pragmatic brother. They reminded you that for all his power and influence, at heart he remained your big brother. The same big brother who skipped etiquette class to play with you.

"Hmm.." Shiva stroked his imaginary beard. “There is still the matter of your… husband.”

You sigh. “Again?” This time, you turn your shoes to turn the other way. The wind was too cold and your legs were too sore to have this conversation anymore.

Shiva walked quickly to catch up with you. “He had best treated you well in your condition.” He grumbled, eyes hard as granite.

“Ajax dotes on me, as always.” Sometimes it's even too close to smothering; you wanted to add anything but didn't, out of concern that somehow Shiva will magically take this as a literal complaint. "But I thank you for your concern, brother."

The last rays of sunlight were fading fast as clouds deepened its shades of gray across the Emerald Palace gardens. You gazed around appreciatively, taking in the seasonal beauty of falling leaves. Auburn and scarlet leaves swirled upon currents of chilly air, coating lawns and paths in a blanket of faded color. Your breath misted before your plump lips in the dropping temperatures. As if sensing your discomfort, the babe within shifted and stretched, seeking warmth.

"It grows dark, and this cold will not do for anyone in my state," You looked at Shiva with a soft smile. “Walk with me back inside, brother? I believe a nice cup of hot tea by the fire is in order.”

The Liyuean emperor glanced down with a concerned frown, noticing the loss of color on your lips. Gently, Shiva opened his powerful palms to receive your smaller fingers upon his forearms. Even through the fabric, you could feel the waves of his inner furnace warming your skin.

“Fragile as a newborn bird.” He grumbled, though care dwelt in his stern gaze.

Leaning upon his sturdy frame, the two of you began the slow walk back to comforts within. The sunlight was getting dimmer. As shadows engulfed the gardens, the wind howled more fiercely through emerging tree branches, abandoning its playful mood. You bury your nose into your upturned collar, breathing in its lingering scent of sandalwood and spice. Despite all of that, Shiva still makes sure that his steps are not so wide that you struggle to match his. Slow and careful is better.

"Watch your step. Lean upon me if you're worried—it's better than the chance of a stumble or fall.”

Your heart swells at his fussy care, unsurprised though deeply touched. Fierce emperor he is, yet where family is, lies the same tender heart of your childhood, still beating sure and strong. This was far from new—from your earliest memories, it was Shiva who swept you into strong arms when storms raged, telling tales until even lightning's flash seemed like a play.

Little Shiva often gets reprimanded for "teaching" his sister to climb the ancient pine tree to retrieve his favorite celestial crab toy that got stuck high in the branches. Naughty girl climbs like a little monkey, but then too scared to come down. Big brother Shiva climbs up to save you, and you both end up having ears pulled by the caretaker Gong Gong for damaging boughs older than even their venerable dynasty.

The final step up the steps of the main palace is taken and closes your long journey to reach here. Home at last. You sigh contentedly, rubbing your belly where a new life stirred. Gazing up at the towering figure who has guided you since birth, you feel a surge of gratitude and safety wrap around you like a cashmere shawl.

Rain began to pelt the earth outside the window. A faint, untamed wind entered through the open door and caused the fire to dance before it was shut.

No matter what storms life sent your way, you knew without a doubt that your steadfast brother would always stand like a great pine, sheltering you under the boughs of his protection. Some things, it seemed, did not change even with time's passage. As you are led to refresh yourself by the fire, you send up a silent prayer of thanks for the brother who was, and always will be, your greatest protector under heaven.

It was raining outside.

Being a Snezhnayan-born, he was unaffected by snowstorms even. He recalled boyhood winters where ice-cold feet covered in white had become a habit, and hypothermia had repeatedly passed by his mother's reprimands because little Ajax had played outside for too long. He often said the cold didn't bother him, and the Queen at that time responded with another string of stern lectures about mortal limits. "You may have thick skin and tough bones, but no man can contest with nature in her fury," she always said.

It was raining outside.

As the council droned on around discussions of trade routes and border disputes, the Emperor's focus wavered again to the pounding rain. Some part of him will always find solace in storms' primal rhythms, recalling simpler days playing in the palace white gardens.

But now another occupied his thoughts, and this autumn downpour no longer held nostalgia—just a chill that he knew she wasn't bred to withstand. His wife, you, the Empress, possessed a Liyuean's preference for temperate climates and was not so adapted to cold and damp. Frown found him easily. And with child too now, each storm brought new cause for concern.

Childe wonders what you're doing as the heavens open their floodgates. Resting as suggested, tucked cozily by the fire under layers of blankets? Or do you insist on wandering, eagle-eyed handmaidens fretting while you trailed damp slippers through resplendent halls? Childe knows how stubborn you are, and he also knows your ladies-in-waiting have laid down life itself if harm threatens their empress or babe. Still, he is unable to subdue his inclinations.

Perhaps a visit was in order.

As the discussion continued, Childe glanced at his confidant, Dmitri. The young, diligent, man lends a keen ear to the proceedings, a pen scratching next to a pile of notebook paper.

Childe knew that if he was suggested to leave the council meeting to see his empress, he would be met with disgruntlement from him. Dmitri took his duties as confidant seriously, and interrupting state affairs for personal reasons went against propriety. Sure enough, he could already hear a series of protests. “Your Majesty, the generals are presenting vital information. This is not the time for idle social calls.” Or perhaps, “The Empress will understand your devotion to duty, sire. Go to her when business is concluded.”

But Dmitri's words would fall on deaf ears as always, anyway. If it came to you, Childe was ruled by heart far more than head. And his heart now beats in worry for your comfort in this unruly weather. So, let Dmitri shout until he was hoarse. Your smile is worth any scolding. And the baby… oh, how he longed to feel those tiny kicks against his big palms.

Just as General Gorin slowly rose to present his next point, Childe waved his hand and smoothly cut in. “Gentlemen, I am grateful for all the insights that have been shared so far. However, more pressing matters now demanded my attention. Let's end today's meeting and continue planning tomorrow.”

Surprised murmurs filled the room as the Emperor rose, meeting already ended without warning. Dmitri shot Childe a pointed look asking clearer than words – “Pressing matters, Your Majesty? What matters could possibly arise now?” He asked full of confusion, but a suspicion and guess was hidden underneath.

Childe merely flashed his confidant a guileless smile and shrugged without a care. “Family matters. You understand this.”

Oh, Dmitri understands it all too well. The confidant has long been accustomed to his emperor's whims wherever it concerns his empress. How he understood the depth of Childe's devotion to you.

Like that inspection of new naval defenses, where one of your ladies-in-waiting's arrival brings news of your headache turning Childe on his heel, meeting forgotten. General Gorin’s rage at disrupted schedules took moons to subside.

Or that time, yet another council meeting was thrown into disarray by Childe's protectiveness of you. The advisers had gathered to discuss border security when suddenly, the Emperor shot up from his seat said an urgent matter had arisen, and they should continue the discussion among themselves. Sure enough, they soon learned the “urgent matter” was that you insisted on taking a walk around the garden that afternoon. One of your maidens had come to notify Childe, worried you might tire yourself from the early stages of your pregnancy.

Not that Childe neglected his duties—somehow he always resolved imperial affairs with his usual flare, despite his distracted heart. But propriety and practicality demand that protocols be adhered to! What if an urgent vote is needed, or a treaty is signed, in his hasty absence? He understood, truly understood his emperor's loyalty to the family. But, as a confidant, it grew tiresome to have to have strategic discussions interrupted at vital moments just because the Emperor “just wanted to check on her.”

With a tired sigh, Dmitri forced himself to speed up his pace to match Childe's determined strides through the palace halls. “There is one other matter requiring your attention, Your Majesty.”

Childe threw him a sideways glance, blue eyes sharpening. “Out with it, Dmitri.” He demanded.

“Emperor Shiva of Liyue is presently within the palace walls,” Dmitri stated.

The Emperor halted abruptly, whipping to face his advisor with eyes like a blade drawn. “And you didn't tell me sooner, Boyar?”

Dmitri bowed in contrition. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I just received word upon leaving the council chambers. It seems that the Liyue ruler came unannounced, desiring an audience solely with Her Majesty the Empress.”

Childe’s scowl spoke volumes on his fraught relationship with your overprotective brother. While necessity forged an alliance, personal warmth was lacking between the proud rulers. Shiva saw himself your guardian first, diplomacy second. And the prospect of his beloved sister bearing children for an “outsider” emperor did little to endear. Many cold stares had passed between the men in your presence.

The young emperor resumed his long strides, lips pursed in a hard line. “Where is he now?”

His confidant hastened to keep up. “From words of the guards, the Empress welcomed her brother into the Emerald Palace gardens. But seeing storm clouds gather, they retired to Her Majesty's private drawing room for tea indoors." Dmitri answered.

The scowls on his handsome face deepened. Childe made long, purposeful strides down the gleaming palace halls, cape billowing behind him like the stormclouds overhead. Servants scattered from his frigid aura, wise people try to avoid his presence. Dmitri behind him followed hurriedly, trying to catch air with ragged breaths.

Poor young man. The more they approached the chamber, the more Dmitri's mind raced frenziedly considering all potential scenarios and consequences. While his Emperor maintained cordial smiles in public, that gleaming blade swung beneath could destroy the unwise. He knew well Childe's mercurial nature—charming one moment, savage the next if challenged. Combined with Shiva's openly imperious streak, this encounter has disaster written in its stars.

By the time the duo reached the chamber doors, sweat dripped down Dmitri's pale face. Taking a moment to compose himself, he sent up a fervent prayer to any deity listening.

All his diplomatic prowess seemed like tattered silk amidst the hurricane that was about to collide in the drawing room. Only one held the power to steer these storms to calmer waters—Her Majesty Empress (Y/N). Time and again, Dmitri has seen you easily maneuver the most stubborn of men to your will, employing but a look or word. If fortune is on his side, perhaps your radiant presence has calmed their ruffled quills within.

The guards straightened as Childe's purposeful steps stopped right in front of the towering door. With a practiced announcement, the first cried:

“Announcing the arrival of His Majesty, Childe, Sovereign Emperor of Snezhnaya!”

Instantly, the heavy portals swung inward under the straining muscles, hinges moving as smoothly as the tides. Inside, soft lamplight bathes a tapestry scene of tranquility. Marble floors gleamed ahead, inviting new visitors into the drawing room.

From the presence of two new people, you looked up from your tea. "Ajax, you've come!" Your beautiful face lit up with joy upon seeing Childe enter.

Your beaming smile helped ease tension from Childe's rigid frame. Walking over, he went to your side and took your hand in his. “Wife,” he greeted, smiling lips placing a kiss on your knuckles. You truly are his sun, chasing away all the shadows in his soul and decorating his heart with gold carvings.

Ah, right.

Although resentment still simmered within at Shiva's unwelcome visit, Childe knew very well the game had to be played. So, with considered effort, he molded his expression into a faux friendliness. The smile rings the bells of falsity to those closely observing, but to the untrained eye, it may pass.

Turning to Shiva, Childe addressed him in smooth tones, “Brother,” he said, feeling like cutting off his own tongue. “It's been too long.”

Shiva's return greeting comes short with an absence of warmth. Leveling Childe with an unwavering stare, he replied, “Indeed. Though some absences feel shorter than others.”

A hint of irritation flashed across Childe's features at Shiva's sly jab. But, years of training to become Snezhnaya's future successor had schooled his temper. A mirthless chuckle rose from his throat as he replied.

“Brother, ever the lapdog snapping at anything that moves without caring for the mess left behind. Is solitude wearing on you? No wonder you ache for stimulation.”

Shiva’s eyes flashed at the provocation. “Careful little wolf, your words reveal more about yourself than I,” he retorted coolly. “At least I don’t go snarling rabidly at any who threaten my fleas. Liyue has prospered without incident under my watch. Can the same be said for your frozen wasteland?”

Childe's faux-smile vanished, the mask evaporates revealing the devil beneath. “Snezhnaya has thrived despite constant meddling from supposed ‘allies.’ Perhaps if certain neighbors attended their own affairs instead of sniffing mine, they'd find less cause for petty complaints.” He gritted his teeth.

Shiva scoffed. “It must sting that even your neighbors consider you an annoyance.”

As the emperors' argument grew more heated, your expression changed from beaming joy to stern annoyance.

“Enough, both of you.” Your voice rang clearly, cutting through the tension and instantly capturing their attention. Those beautiful eyes, usually warm as spring sun, now glinted cool. “Honestly, I expected more maturity from my husband and brother. If you have problems remaining civil, remove yourselves from my presence.”

At your sharp words, both Childe and Shiva looked abashed, like puppies being scolded from tearing pillows, tails wagging between their legs. You had united two nations through their marriage where once only hostility stood; yet now the proud rulers of two empires are quarreling in what should be a quiet evening full of warm tea and fires. With a weary sigh, you massage your temples as if you were physically hurt by their foolishness.

You see Shiva about to open his mouth to deliver another biting retort—always wanting to have the last word—but, with a sharp stare, his jaw closes again.

"Say another word and you will regret it." you are warned in a low tone laced with threats.

With a lovely smile on his lips, Childe turned to you, hoping to win you over to his side. “Angel,” he purred, brushing a tender kiss to your knuckles—Shiva wanted to spill his guts at the sight. “You know how your brother enjoys provoking me. I meant no disrespect.”

Shiva scoffed but dared not test his luck with your anger still on him. Childe ignored the sound, focusing completely on appeasing his wife.

You narrowed your eyes. "You're not completely innocent in this, Ajax." You reminded him.

“But, love—”

Childe was interrupted when you raised your index finger to shush him. "And I've thought about it for a while," you say, pausing to get both men's attention with your poignant tone. “We'll use the duration of Shiva's stay here as time for you to reconnect without titles between you. As family, not rulers. Which is why you and Shiva will accompany me on my trip to Zelenossosh.”

Immediate protests erupted from both men.

“Spend leisure with him?” Childe grunted, jerking a thumb at Shiva. “You ask too much, love.”

Shiva sneered. “As if I wanted some time alone with the mongrel Emperor and his ilk.”

“Gentlemen, peace, please. And I've decided," you said firmly. “This trip is not optional. We will leave in three days, and you will spend the entire time there bonding over the activities of my choosing. No politics or policies are allowed to be discussed.”

“But sister! This is—”

“(Y/N), anything but—”

A dramatic gasp came out of you, surprising both of them. “Oh my, is it that time already?” You mused, stretching your muscles gracefully, pretending to be tired of your duties. “Ajax, Shiva, please excuse me as I retire for my evening bath. My handmaidens, help an exhausted Empress to her chambers, if you please.”

Your two handmaidens appear, hurry to aid you in your “weariness.” But, the twinkling eyes said otherwise as you smiled over your shoulder.

“Try to get along without me, won't you, Your Majesties?” you said in faux-innocence.

With barely veiled amusement, you watch them tense up at the prospect of forced solo interactions. Chuckling softly to yourself, you walk out with a satisfied smile, escorted by your lovely ladies-in-waiting.

The atmosphere in the room grew thick like sour milk after your absence lifted the veil of politeness. The two men managed to maintain the first ten seconds in silence, avoiding each other's gaze like tomcats dropped in a sack together. Jaws locked. Teeth were gritted and the last bit of patience was running out.

Shiva sat tensely, fingers clenched, creating crescent prints in his palms as he glared daggers at Childe from the corners of his eyes. "This is your doing, Wolf."

Childe snorted, delicate eyebrow arched. “My doing? Tell me, how so.” He met his gaze.

“You intend to poison my sister's mind against me with your honeyed lies,” Shiva hissed.

An ugly sneer curled Childe’s lip. “The only poison here is your constant meddling in affairs that don’t concern you. If you hadn’t come nosing around Snezhnaya again—”

“Nosing around?” Shiva bellowed, face turning purple. “You got my sister pregnant without my permission! How dare you impregnate her without my blessing. What if something had gone wrong, huh? It’s all your fault!”

Childe gritted his teeth, growing frustrated with Shiva's overprotective attitude. “She is my wife, not some decorative pet you own. And do I need to remind you that children are a normal part of marriage, or is it not like that where you come from?”

“Don't twist this to your advantage, wolf,” Shiva stood up from his chair, pointing a slanderous finger at Childe. “I see your game—you made her so early with child to tie her to you forever, admit it!”

Those dull blue eyes gleamed with fury directly above a grin. "Ha! Is this what your deranged mind contemplates consistently?" He crossed his arms and reclined on the couch as his gaze trained on Shiva's emotional turmoil.

“You think to use her body for your ambitions of an heir!”

Breaking through the restraint he possessed, the ginger-haired man swiftly rose to his feet and prowled towards the Liyue Emperor. Though nearly equal in height and build, his explosive temper made him seem to tower over Shiva in that moment. A cruel, wrathful smile twisted his lips as blue orbs darkened with barely contained fury.

“Say that to my face again,” Childe dared in a deadly quiet tone. “It would be my honor to educate that foul tongue of yours once and for all.”

Shiva met his furious gaze, steady as stone. “Withdraw your implication or face the consequences, dog.”

A loud scoff came out of Childe, his famed patience was dragged wildly and almost completely evaporated. Fists clenched tightly, knuckles bleached, straining with the effort to resist lashing out—he knew it would only benefit Shiva, that the Liyue dog would use it as an opportunity to take your sympathy to his side. But every pore and disciplined muscle screams for release, to put this peacock in its place through whatever it takes.

“I've wanted nothing more than to rearrange that handsome face of yours since we met,” Childe threatened, cracking his knuckles with malicious intent.

To his surprise, Shiva threw back his head and laughed—a deep, ironic chuckle. The Liyuean bent over to select a dessert fork laid out on the table. Twirling the utensil dexterously between his long fingers, Shiva straightened his back and shot Childe a look from under lowered lashes.

“Is that so? Well, you’re not entirely wrong—I am rather easy on the eyes.”

“You really want to do this, don't you?” Childe's query didn't seek confirmation, rather, it served as a last warning before he enacted his plan to "resculpt" that stunning jaw into something no better than the monument commemorating the demise of the last Duke of Krykiye, a statue that ultimately ceased to exist due to being considered government treason.

Shiva flashed a shark's smile, dessert fork now hidden in his fist. “Then come – take your best shot, little Emperor. Let's see if your skills live up to that big mouth of yours."

The sly words were the final shards to break Childe's crumbling restraint. Damn it! To damnation with patience and consequences! He vowed, in the name of his late father, to pummel Shiva's appearance, rearranging it until it remained unrecognizable to the point where he could never return to Liyue and rule the empire again. The ideal circumstance is that he would be deported and branded as an impostor claiming to be the Liyue emperor who had “abruptly” disappeared after traveling to Snezhnaya. Go to hell with it all. With a wordless snarl, he lunged, fists flying—

“Sir Dmitri arrived just in time, it seems. His Majesty and Emperor Shiva appeared quite.. animated in their exchange.”

From the news delivered by Sasha, you opened your eyes and raised an eyebrow, not completely surprised. Laura's efforts in lifting your burden all day with her slender fingers massaging your temples and head are wasted on the confirmation of Childe and Shiva returning to their squabbles almost immediately after you departed from their presence. The bathing chambers are luxuriously designed to soothe tired muscles. Floating flower petals in warm water soaking your naked body does little to ease your stress.

"Was anybody hurt?"

You look at Sasha and receive a shake of the head. "Fortunately," you are informed, "Sir Dmitri is quite skilled in managing those types of situations. The two have retired to their personal quarters."

You sigh. “Those foolish men. Put them in one room and watch the entire house burn down.” You said.

Sasha nodded in agreement. “Men will be men, I'm told.”

You relaxed into the pillowy embrace of bubbles, warm water soaking your shoulders, while Laura rinsed the last of the shampoo from your long hair. With a gentle hand, you begin stroking your swollen belly, silently musing at the child growing inside.

“Please don't take after your father and uncle, little one,” you said wryly. “I pray you inherit my calm rather than their hot tempers and their thirst for contention and chaos.”

Countess Sasha chuckled softly at your candid words. “Fate itself knows what traits Snezhnaya's successor will claim. We can only hope that their generosity and diplomacy will outweigh their recklessness.” She spoke, and the ladies shared a grin.

Maybe it's time for you to journey to a temple and make an offering that your pleas would be accepted by the gods. If, by some stroke of luck, your child inherited Childe's free-spirited and spontaneous nature, you were practically certain your hair would turn white within a single night's rest. The capital would be unable to withstand the chaos, and Snezhnaya's enemies would be thrown into confusion by the fall of the empire in a short time—sealing their years of fantasizing about its downfall.

Just then, Ksenia entered the bath chamber and rushed to your side carefully. “Your Majesty, the Emperor requests an audience.” She spoke softly as she knelt beside your bathub.

You raised an eyebrow, sharing an amused glance with Sasha. “Speak of the devil..” You mumbled, then sighed. “Fine, let him in.”

Soon, Childe was swept into the bathroom, still dressed in his royal clothes. His face softened at the sight of you, but then he frowned in confusion at the others. "Why are they all in here?" he asked.

"They kept me good company, unlike certain emperors who desired to declare war every time they met."

Childe huffed. “It wasn't entirely my doing—Shiva provoked me, you know that. If it weren't for my wisdom, we would've come to blows.” He tried to reason.

You raised a skeptical brow. "I was under the impression that Dmitri was the one who intervened and separated you two?"

“Through Dmitri, yes – but his position comes from my leadership. Therefore, the credit is mine.”

A fond yet tired sigh escaped your lips. Truly, managing this Emperor and all the nonsensical things he does is a feat in itself. When others only see him as nothing more than his pretty surface, you take the time to discern what's bothering him underneath, allowing your steady voice to help guide him to calmer ports. His charisma and strategic mind have garnered a lot of respect; but beneath, his soul still yearns for adventure on the battlefield where he excels. It stirs wild impulses that defeat calmer and rational thinking in heated moments.

But you see, Childe was trying to grow out of his old self to become a better emperor for the empire. Where violence was once his first tongue, patience and diplomacy now speak louder through his efforts. He'll continue abandoning rashness like battered armor outgrown, and you'll be there every step of the way.

“You know how he plucks my strings, angel.”

As Childe spoke those words to you, his hand rose to his collar. Slowly, deliberately, he began to unbutton his royal shirts one by one. He eases the heavy fabric from his broad shoulders in a single, practiced motion, revealing his numerous scars—a history that is reluctant to be forgotten on his skin. And he was beautiful precisely because he was battle-tested yet unbroken.

Your ladies-in-waiting took the cue to discreetly gather towels and depart with flushed smiles. Childe unbuckled and threw the belt behind him without a care. He approached you, and your gaze roamed over your husband's nearly naked body in awe. The skin is smooth and light, muscles defined yet free of excess bulk. Years of combat had honed his physique to its peak.

The chiseled 'V' leads down from his waist to where his trousers clung low on his hips. Blocks like smoothed stone make a square on the stomach, not overly large but firm under the touch. You remember fond nights tracing their lines with fingers or lips, feeling them contract at your actions.

"But for you both, my love, I will try to keep a calm head."

With feline grace, Childe stepped into the bath, causing the waters to surge. You smiled and shifted forward invitingly to give him room. He settled behind you, long legs flanking your form, and circling your swollen middle with strong yet gentle arms. The warmth is placed on your exposed shoulder as he kisses it affectionately. You lean back with a sigh, nestling your damp hair against his collarbone. He kissed your temple, one large hand spread protectively over the unborn babe within.

“Don't worry, your promise will be put to the test when the three of us leave for Zelenossosh later.” You said and Childe let out an exaggerated groan and buried his face in the crook of your neck, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

Within three days, the three of you will head for Zelenossosh. A rational individual would say that it would be unwise to proceed with this plan - Childe is a troublemaker, and pairing him with Shiva's fiery temper is a risky undertaking. Even if you decide to travel to Zelenossosh, a location known for its tranquil appearance, composed of pretty hills and beaches, it will probably turn into another loud argument – just with a prettier backdrop this time!

Only time will tell what the fate of their traveling party will be, and you can only pray that it will end with more joy than murder.

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION.

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strangersatellites · 1 year

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Eddie’s zoned out as he prattles off care instructions and wraps up the man’s (very strong) bicep, careful to tug it tight enough as to not hurt him.

He’s distracted. Has been for the better part of the past hour.

Steve’s been the ideal client. Perfect, he might even say.

Hardly nervous at all as he climbed into the chair and made himself comfortable. No flinching at the needle, and he’s been as easy-going as anything.

His eyes were heavy lidded and fluttery as the needle pressed into his skin, a soft smile gracing his face as he watched his spitfire little girl flip through Eddie’s books for a design she liked.

“You find anything you like, baby?” He asked.

Eddie took a pause to peek up at the little redhead across the room. Her hair in two little braids, eyebrows furrowed, and tongue poked out in concentration.

“No, I wanted a dinosaur but these are all flowers and stuff,” She pouted.

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh.

“Tell you what kiddo,” He stole a glance at Steve, blissed out in the chair. “Since your dad has been such a good sport and you’ve been so good, I’ll draw you up a dinosaur when we’re finished okay?”

Max’s eyes lit up and she giggled behind her hands and nodded.

Now that Steve’s tattoo is done, a pumpkin on the inside of his bicep, he sits up and calls her over.

“Come see, pumpkin.”

And Eddie hadn’t asked, but now, as he watches her bounce across the room and gasp at her dad’s tattoo he feels his face split into a smile.

“Daddy it's me!”

Steve laughs and it's so so lovely. He drops a kiss to the top of her head before he stands.

“It is you, bug.”

Eddie peels off his gloves and puts his hands on his hips.

“Alright miss lady. Let’s draw you a dinosaur. What kind are you thinking? Stegosaurus, pterodactyl?”

She jumps up with her arms bent to her body and roars.

“I’m a T-Rex!”

Eddie laughs and gets settled at his table.

“Alright firecracker, let’s draw you a T-Rex.”

*****

After he’s sketched the outline, a little cartoon dinosaur, he runs it through on his temporary tattoo sheet and sets to “prepping” his station.

He sprays down the chair and tugs on more gloves.

He sits on his stool and pats the chair.

“Come on up Red.”

She squeals and runs over and Steve hoists her up onto the chair.

In the meantime, Eddie rolls over to his mini-fridge in the corner and grabs the cold rag he’s had in the freezer.

He can hear Steve whisper as he tucks a loose hair behind her ear.

“You excited, huh? My brave girl.”

And Eddie’s heart melts.

He rolls back over and puts on his serious face.

“Okay Max. You’re gonna feel a sting but you’re a tough girl, aren’t ya?”

She furrows her brows and nods. She rolls up her own sleeve.

“I’m strong!”

He can’t help but smile.

“You sure are. Look at those muscles!”

He peels off the plastic covering the ink.

“Where do you want to put it?” He asks.

She pats her upper arm.

“Here. Just like daddy!”

Eddie grins again and Steve is biting back a smile from his spot behind the chair. Eddie sends him a wink and watches the flush bloom across his cheeks.

“You ready, Red?”

Her focus face is back and she nods resolutely.

Eddie lines up the sheet and sticks it to her arm. She turns her head back towards Steve.

“Daddy? Will you hold my hand?”

As if Eddie’s heart wasn’t already a puddle on the floor.

“Here we go, sweetheart,” Eddie says as he presses the cold rag to her skin.

He hisses through his teeth and grimaces like he’s in pain. He holds back a laugh as she puffs out her cheeks and visibly squeezes her dad’s hand.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Steve tells her.

She lets out a sharp little breath as Eddie shifts and presses the rag back against her skin.

She looks up towards him and giggles.

“It’s not that bad. I’m tough like daddy.”

He flops the rag back down on his tray and goes to peel the paper away from her skin.

“Yes you are!” He says as he smiles down at her cute little dinosaur, “Do you like it?”

She looks down at it and squeals.

“Look daddy! Look!”

Steve hoists her up onto his hip and swings her around, giggles filling the space and Eddie’s heart.

“I love it, pumpkin! You’re the coolest little girl in the whole world!”

He puts her down and she runs around the chair to where Eddie is peeling off his second set of gloves and bumps right up next to him. He furrows his eyebrows and goes to ask what’s wrong when he’s interrupted.

“Look dad! Just like Eddie!”

And now that he looks at it he sees it. Max’s dinosaur is in the same place as her dad’s tattoo. But it’s in the same place as Eddie’s dragon too.

#suspend your disbelief #and just trust me that eddie has a printer that accommodates temporary tattoos #walk with me #gin writes #single dad steve #tattoo artist eddie #based on that one hc I posted about this #hcs by g #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #I once again did not proofread this #an ode to the amount of nicknames I can give baby max

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aliahm · 1 year

Text

Figuring Things Out - Crowley x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: You and Crowley talk about the confusing feelings that came up for you after going out for lunch.

Warnings: Insecurities about eating, body image issues (If I’ve left out any content warnings, please let me know).

(The moodboard above was made by me, using images found on tumblr and Google. Full credit for the images goes to the owners. Credit for the divider goes to firefly graphics, here on tumblr).

“What’s happened?”

Crowley had noticed the shift in your mood from the second you came home. You were talking, but only if he talked first, and you hadn’t looked him in the eye since you stepped into the house.

“What?” You asked, still looking straight ahead at the TV. “Nothing, I’m fine”.

“Something’s off, it wasn’t before. You can tell me”.

You didn’t say anything. Even if you tried, you didn’t think you’d know where to begin.

He snapped his fingers and suddenly the screen in front of you was blank, not that it mattered. You hadn’t been paying attention to whatever was playing in the first place.

Finally you turned to face him, and he said nothing, waiting patiently for you to say whatever you needed to say.

Another few moments passed as you tried to find words that fit whatever this was that you were feeling. Eventually you came up with:

“I just- don’t feel very good right now”.

“Not good how, love? Sick?”

“No, just- gross”.

Crowley frowned. He didn’t like hearing you say that about yourself, and it confused him. There was nothing gross about you.

“Gross? Did something happen at lunch? Did somebody upset you?”

He was beginning to worry, and that protective instinct of his kicked in immediately.

“I guess I did.” you answered with a shrug, as if feigning indifference would get rid of everything else you were feeling.

“You did? All you did was go out to eat, love”.

“I know.” You replied, your voice empty.

Crowley paused and thought over your words for a few moments. You fought the urge to look away from him, but you did. It was just too much.

Finally he asked, “Is that what’s bothering you? Going to lunch made you feel bad?”

“Not going to lunch, just…”

“Eating?”

You didn’t say yes, you didn’t even nod. You couldn’t admit it, verbally or otherwise. Instead you said:

“and it’s never happened before- I- I don’t-“

Your voice broke and trembled as you tried to push your way to the end of a sentence you didn’t know how to finish.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Crowley placed his finger beneath your chin and tilted your head towards him, “breathe”.

You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes for a moment, before meeting his eyes once again.

“I don’t know what’s going on.” you told him, and the sadness in your eyes sent a sharp pain right through his chest.

“Listen to me. Whatever this is, you can figure it out, I promise. We can figure it out”.

You hid your face in his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I feel so stupid.” you muttered.

“You aren’t stupid, and you aren’t gross either”.

“It’s just one thing after another with me, isn’t it?” You laughed bitterly. “Why can’t I catch a break?”

“We agreed to be honest with each other, that’s all you’re doing.” he reassured you, “That’s a good thing”.

“I don’t know what to do, or think”.

He held you without saying anything for a bit, then he replied, “Maybe take some time and see how you feel, then we’ll go from there.”

You nodded against his shoulder, and he pulled you away from him slightly, so you could look at each other again, then he told you:

“I want you to promise me you won’t try to struggle through it by yourself if things continue this way, alright?”

“I…”

“Baby, I know you’re scared right now, but I need you to be brave, for me, and most of all, for yourself”.

You hesitated, deep in thought, then eventually you nodded again.

“Say it.” he encouraged you.

“I promise, that I won’t keep secrets from you, and I’ll tell you if I need help”.

“Good,” he kissed your forehead. “I’m already proud of you”.

#good omens crowley x reader #anthony crowley x reader #good omens crowley x gender neutral reader #crowley x reader #crowley x gender neutral reader #good omens crowley fanfiction #anthony j crowley x reader #anthony crowley x gender neutral reader #anthony j crowley x gender neutral reader

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bird-slayer-brainrot · 8 months

Text

Who? - Ineffable Husband watch Doctor Who - crack, fluff

"Mr Bond, you're truly a hero." the blond, bespectacled women said to him. It had been quite a victory, that much was true. The girl clutched Bond's arm, blushing up at him. "Mr Bond, it was ever so brave of scramoush scaramoush will you do the fandango.......

"Crowley, is that you?"

Crowley groaned. Blinking into awareness, Crowley pressed the phone to his ear. He really should change his ringtone. Leave your phone in the Bentley once and it thinks it has the right. "Yes, yes, hello Aziraphale."

"Oh dear," the angel paused for a moment, and Crowley pulled himself out of his covers and sat up. "Were you asleep? I'm so sorry for interrupting you. I'll let you get back to it."

"No, no." Crowley cleared his throat. The angel, to his credit, sounded genuinely distressed by the prospect of accidentally waking Crowley from his sleep. Crowley grimaced. "I was just getting up. What's the matter?"

Aziraphale was silent for a moment. The static buzzing of a tea kettle, knowing him, transferring through his end was all that could be heard.

"I'm afraid it's rather silly." That got Crowley's attention. He performed a quick miracle and he was dressed. Black sweater, black sweatpants (even demon's had lazy days, and he planned on gardening) and combat boots (to make up for the sweatpants). Aziraphale made a noise over the phone. "It's really not important. There was just something I wanted to show you, if... if you're not busy."

Crowley, of course, had nothing on. But Aziraphale wanted to see him so he was obviously free. Even if he had something on, he'd try and get... okay, no, that line of inquiry is well worn. He just wanted to see Aziraphale. He was bored yada yada.

"I'll be there." Crowley said into the microphone.

"Oh, good." Aziraphale's sigh transmitted through, and Crowley really had no clue then what it was Aziraphale wanted to see him for, and the angel wasn't telling him. "I'll see you soon. Safe driving."

"Never," Crowley responded, as usual. Aziraphale hung up the phone and Crowley sprung up and grabbed his keys.

Aziraphale was pacing.

Perhaps he shouldn't have called Crowley. It was ridiculous, this whole thing. But he couldn't, in good conscious, not tell the demon. It would be simply unfair not to. And Aziraphale was an angel, so he should be the one to tell him.

The bell at the door chimed. Crowley stepped inside, miracling his clothing dry. Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief.

"Crowley," he approached his friend, smiling as the demon propped himself a bookshelf. "You look cozy. How was the drive?"

The demon tilted his head and put a hand on his hip. "Uhh, fine." he finally spoke. That was good. That was very good. "So do you mind telling me what's going on?"

"Ah, yes." Aziraphale shifted, adjusting his cardigan, "Well, I stumbled across something that might be rather interesting to you. On..." Aziraphale paused, but Crowley, who knew Aziraphale's mannerisms as well as his own, waited. "the television."

Crowley smiled.

"Aziraphale..."

"Crowley."

And the demon laughed as Aziraphale led him upstairs.

It was unexpected.

They were in the small sitting room in the flat at the top of Aziraphale's bookshop. Crowley had only been up here on occasion. The room was like the rest of the space. There was a small, brown couch with a blanket and several homemade cushions; an antique coffee table covered with books, a newspaper, two tea cups and a half finished plate of biscuits; and a slim and small TV on the bureau. The curtains were drawn.

"This is cozy." Crowley said as Aziraphale sat on the couch and reached for the remote. Crowley took that as invitation to join him. And waited.

The theme of Doctor Who began to play, and at this, Crowley looked over at the angel. Aziraphale was watching the screen, adjusting his cardigan again. Several names flashed across the screen, then, the title, The Christmas Invasion.

The episode started to play. Ten minutes in, Aziraphale paused it, and slowly turned his head to face Crowley. Crowley was already looking at Aziraphale.

"That." was all Crowley said.

"I know." Aziraphale flinched. "I was just as surprised as you."

"David Tennant?"

Aziraphale shifted. "I was meaning to catch up on the series, before it got too far away from me." he tried to explain. "And, well, there's this." he gestured towards the screen, where a still image of David Tennant's sleeping face. The resemblance to the demon at his right was uncanny.

"And you thought this was my doing?"

"Well," Aziraphale shrugged. "I didn't know what to think, but you seem just as surprised by this information."

Crowley leaned back into the couch, pondering this for a moment. Then he shrugged, and got up.

"Wait, where are you going? You can't hurt him!"

Crowley spun around on his feet. The expression on his face was incredulous.

"Aziraphale." he said in a measured tone. "That is a human man. You want to watch Doctor Who, and so do I. I'm grabbing wine." then he turned away again, and walked out of the room.

Several hours later...

Aziraphale turned the TV off. They stared at the black screen.

"That was..."

A noise broke through the silence. Aziraphale turned his head, and Crowley turned his away.

"Crowley." he said gently. "Are you... crying?"

Crowley sneered at this and turned back to face Aziraphale. His face was dry, miraculously, and Aziraphale felt a wave of tenderness wash through him.

"Well," Aziraphale's hand itched to reach out and comfort the demon. On the screen, the Doctor walked away from the wall dividing him and Rose. Well, the wall that was actually a gap in the void. The theme swelled, and Aziraphale's heart clenched. He paused the episode.

"Next one?" Crowley said gently, and Aziraphale obliged.

Later, Crowley would deny ever crying at that episode. It was not brought up again.

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pooplyface1423 · 7 months

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Nightmares

Almost every night after Lucifer was cast down to hell, you always had the same dream him calling out to you, either saying he was sorry and how he wished. ~He was there for his family~. But it always ended with you waking up all sweaty and teary-eyed, and you sometimes wondered if he ever dreamed of something similar.

He did.....

When he was first cast down to hell, he didn't really have them .After he was all alone, he started to get them more frequently it was always the same kinda you mostly called his name, then started to cry saying stuff like why did u leave me? Or did you even love me? On certain occasions, you said you loved him but would never forget all the mistakes he did.

The most recent one went like this

There, he was drifting off to sleep when he heard your beautiful voice

"Lucifer~"

"Huh?"

"Lucifer, wake up Hun come over here~"

"Y/n!?"

"Where are you!?" He said, getting up from bed

"Over here~"

He quickly walked up to the door

He opened the door, and he smelled food?

What's going on?

When he had enough courage he opened the door

There you were in you, beautiful purple dress you loved so much making him pancakes?

"You finally woke up! Ugh, I thought you were in deep sleep, baby~. " you said softly, squeezing his cheek

"Go sit down. Breakfast is almost done~"

"Th-this doesn't seem right where are we?"

"What do you mean Hun? Were at home~"

"N-no, you're in heaven. im in hell. How is this happening? "

"Hunny, stop worrying bout that nonsense and sit down~"

"I-is this real?"

A long pause filled the room until you spoke up

"Don't you want us to be a happy couple again? Lucifer~?"

"Just sit down dear the food is getting cold~"

"Answer me y/n."

"We can be happy here lucifer don't make this so difficult,~" you said. In a harsher tone, but your sweet tone still there

Lucifer started to back away from you

"Don't you want the happy life we had long ago back?" You said your sweet honey like tone gone

Everything around him started to get foggy. You walked over to him and said

"I guess I wasn't enough for you, right? Your lame lucifer, I'm ashamed I even met you. You're the same selfish little shit as always only chasing your stupid dreams, not ours. You're pathetic. And to think I loved you Ha!"

"STOP I KNOW THIS ISN'T YOU"

"But it is me Hun"

"NO, it isn't the y/n I know is caring, So STOP"

Lucifer was starting to get light headed everything was getting foggy. Then..

Lucifer woke up with a loud gasp helooked around his room. Nothing.

He bravely opened the door and looked over at the kitchen. Nothing

Everything was just a bad, very bad dream he thought

You would never talk to him like that, right? He knew you were caring for and a lovely person who wouldn't hurt a fly.

You would never hurt him, right? You used to love him

Nothing wrong would ever happen to him involving you

Right?

-------‐-----------------‐-----------------‐-----------------‐-----------------‐-----------------‐-----------------‐-----------------‐---

Phew, I finished this somehow. I remembered how the script went and just changed a few things here and there

Hope y'all liked it

Tag list

@lxkeee @yourmommylol04 @vann13 @adaizel @selvyyr @juskonutoh

#my post #hazbin hotel #x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #~the most radiant angel in all of heaven~

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lovemikage · 2 years

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— 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 ( 𝐚. 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐬 )

♡ — in which ajax needs help with his homework, and you're always a doting tutor.

♡ — wc: 748

♡ — a/n: pt. 2 maybe? i just wanted this finished i will not lie to you! but i love my cute boy <333 ty to @arachine for motivating me to finish this and @cottoncandybirdy my bestie beta i love u both so dearly

♡ — warnings: bit suggestive throughout but no explicit smut (yet), fem!reader, all characters are in college (~20 yrs old)

“No – Ajax, baby, darling, you need to carry the three or it won’t –”

“Ugh!” the beanie-clad boy has a pout on his face while he leans back until his chair is tipping off the ground, arms crossed, “I hate this. I’m not good at it, can’t we do somethin’ i’m good at?”

“And what would that be, hm?” You mimic his pose, though all Ajax can focus on is how the position pushes your tits up and how the stern look on your face is working for you way more than he thinks it should.

“I dunno, like –” He pauses, throwing his hands up in the air in half exasperation and half out of a need to stop looking at you (unfortunately, there’s no school subject he is good at, so it isn’t really helping), “Mythology? History? I’m good at those!”

“Yes, because that’s your ancestry –” You sigh, shaking your head a bit while you look down at him, “Plus, i’m literally your tutor, ‘jax, the whole point of this is to help you get better at what you struggle with –”

This time when Ajax looks up at you his frown is even deeper, brows pulled together, and for a moment you think he’s so cute you just want to kiss him silly.

Focus.

“I just have no motivation!” He huffs while he settles his head on crossed arms, looking up at you with all the sadness of a kicked puppy, “And i’m just – i’m bad at it –”

You pause for a moment as you look down at him, weighing your options. You do have an idea, one that would almost definitely work, but one that would also change the trajectory of your friendship forever.

But, again – you know it’ll work. You also know that you really like Ajax, as stupid as he is, and he really likes you, too – he’s never been too shy about showing it (plus, Xavier told you).

Ah, fuck it.

“Tell you what –” You lean over the table so you’re hovering over him a bit, tits pushed out in a way that’s making him stare intensely at your eyes in an effort not to look, “for every question you actually try on, i’ll give you a kiss wherever you want, mkay? You don’t even have to get it right, but you have to try.”

Ajax nearly chokes at that, coughing into his arm and suddenly shooting up with a nod, suddenly the portrait of a perfect student.

“Well?” You look down at him expectantly, head tilted with a soft, playful smile on your lips.

“Oh – oh, fuck, no, yeah, t-totally, um, let me just –” He splutters, quickly arranging the papers from his binder into a neat pile on his desk so he can begin working, suddenly feeling very, very motivated.

You can’t stop your giggles while you watch him work, now moving ten times as fast as he was before – he was even getting some of the math problems right.

He shows them off to you quickly, and you keep your promises for each one – he’s too hesitant to ask you to kiss him in any places he really wants, so he keeps it cute – asks for kisses on his nose, his cheeks, his forehead. Eventually he gets brave and asks for one on his lips and he feels dizzy when you pull back with a smirk.

From there it gets heated very quickly – somehow you find your way into his lap, arms looped around his shoulders and legs dangling on either side of him. He works with you there, every so often tapping your back so you can look at his work. Your kisses stray farther down – his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, even along his shoulders. You can’t help the way your hands wander, sliding underneath his hoodie and running your palms along lean muscle and smooth skin.

You feel something under you and you can’t help the way you smirk to yourself. At least you weren’t the only one getting excited. You kiss his lips again after the next problem, though this time it’s deeper, more desperate than before. You pull back breathing heavily, the little string of saliva that connects your lips making you gulp. Your eyes flit down to the papers, then, and you grin, your voice barely above a whisper when you speak, Ajax’s eyes big and doe-like looking back at you, “You’re almost done. Finish it all and I get to kiss you wherever I want.”

#ajax petropolus x reader #ajax petropolus fluff #ajax petropolus smut #ajax smut #ajax x reader #ajax petropolus imagine #hoooo boy am i rusty #anyway here u go

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vintagepresley · 2 years

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His Favorite Jacket.... PART TWO.

Okay, here's part two of that Austin requested fic for my double d babes!!!

Warning: 18+ SMUTSMUTSMUT Y'all, this is going to get dirty, nasty, etc. Oral (f and m receiving), titty fucking, spitting, dirty talk, some praise??, cum on tits, cursing, etc

Austin plopped down in his seat, avoiding eye contact with you now, staring at the movie screen, but not even paying attention to the movie, he was nervous, frantic and most importantly embarrassed, he couldn't believe that he really had said that out loud to you, his feelings had gotten the better of him and seeing you topless just pushed him so far over the edge, that even still as he sulked in his embarrassment he couldn't stop thinking about it. You on the other hand were just stunned, not even at the fact that he said that but the fact that he felt that way, that he wanted you, wanted to do things to you. You just wanted to hear him confirm that that was what he said, but you noticed that he had gone real quiet, not even looking in your direction. Which prompted you to sit back down as well, glancing over at him every so often, hoping that he would at least look at you, but he didn't. So, you turned your attention to the movie as well, playing with the collar of his jacket which felt so nice and warm, the smell of him linger on his jacket.

For the next hour you both sat there in silence, neither of you paying attention to the movie at all as the only things on your minds were each other, but neither of you brave enough to truly admitted to one another. When the movie finally came to an end you both stood up out of your seats, your doe eyes staring up at him, wanting him to say something to you, anything. "D-Did you enjoy the movie?" he asked quietly as he gathered up his trash. You wanted to roll your eyes at him. He can't be serious... "Yeah... It was great." you lied, not giving a damn about the movie. "What about you?" you asked. "Mm, it was good." he cracked a small smile, lying through his teeth, he didn't care about the movie, you were all he cared about, that and the feelings he felt the moment your top opened in front of him, the way your nipples brushed against his hand, the way you looked in his favorite jacket. He was crazy about you and those feelings became more intense.

You both gathered up your things and began to exit out of the theater, throwing your trash away and the two of you heading outside, you both looked at each other and you cleared your throat quietly, staring up at him, his eyes so soft as he looked at you. "Walk me home?" you asked him with a bit of a smile. "Of course." he nodded smiling back at you and the two of you began the journey to your place the streets becoming quieter as you both walked side by side, your hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket, that's when you took the opportunity to bring up what happened back at the movie theater. "Austin...?" you asked softly. "Yes?" he glanced over at you answering softly under his breath. "About what you said at the movies... Do you really want me? And...." you paused for a moment, biting at your bottom lip for a second before you finished your sentence. "Think about doing things to me..." you said softly as you felt yourself start to blush at the very thought.

You saw the nervousness creep back up on him and his face becoming flustered all over again, he knew there was no avoiding this question now and that you in fact did hear everything that slipped out his mouth, he rubbed at the back of his neck nervously, looking over at you as a soft exhale escaped him. "Um....Uh..." he began to stutter over his words for a moment. "Yes... I-I'm sorry I said that... I hope I didn't offend you or come off weird... It wasn't because of what happened with your uh..." he gulped a bit. "Your uh... Brea- Your top... Well, maybe that was part of it...But I uh.. I like..." he was rambling so much and just stuttering over every word as he continued to blush, you couldn't help but giggle a bit at how cute he was being, you finally arrived at your house, but you wanted him to continue with what he was going to say, so you just stood with him right outside your door. "I wasn't offended and I don't think you're weird. Now finish what you were going to say." you said smiling up at him.

He felt a bit of relief after you reassured him of those two things. "I've.. had a crush on you for some time now.. Well, a long time, I guess. I just never knew how to tell you in fear of jeopardizing our friendship in case you didn't feel the same. When I see you, I can't get you out of my head, I think about you constantly. Then tonight.. When the incident with your top happened.... I... God.. I felt like I was going to lose control." he said as his confession just poured out of him. You were smiling the entire time, chewing at the inside of your cheek, wanting to confess your feelings to him as well, but you did something even bolder than that. You stepped closer to him, reaching up to cup his face in your delicate hands, pulling him down toward you as you leaned up a bit to press your lips softly against his own. He wasn't expecting that at all, but you could feel his lips curling up into a smile against your lips and then he kissed you back, wrapping his hands around your waist, the kiss between the two of you deepening and then you pulled back from him, biting your lip as you stared at each other, his cute little smile still on his lips.

"That's my way of saying I've had a crush on you for a long time too and there's nothing that could jeopardize our friendship, ever." you beamed, knowing that you've felt this way for him probably since the first time you met, but didn't pay attention to those feelings until a few years ago, if there was anyone you would ever feel this way for, it would only be him. "Did you want to come inside? I wouldn't feel right keeping your jacket. I'll just throw a shirt on really quick." you said, taking your keys out and unlocking the door. "Sure, I'll come in." he said, smiling all of his nervous washing away knowing how you felt about him now. You got the door opened and he followed you inside, shutting the door closed and you threw your keys and your purse onto the coffee table. "I'll be right back." you said softly, making your way to the bedroom, but then soon getting an idea when you saw him take a seat on the couch in the direction that faced your room, you decided to leave the door cracked opened in an obvious way, hoping he'd pick up on your hint or would at least be looking into the room.

As he sat on the couch, it didn't take him long to notice the door was left a bit open, his eyes staring intensely into your bedroom, watching your reflection from the mirror in your room that you were purposely standing in front of as you slowly began to unzip his jacket, your breasts slowly popping out of his jacket and then you slipped it off your arms, sitting it on the chair of your vanity, smirking to yourself hoping he was watching, knowing how flushed the very sight of your d cup breasts made him, he had been watching the entire thing, practically drooling at the sight of you and the little show you were putting on just for him, he could feel the tightness in his pants soon develop. It was quite obvious that he was tit man, the very sight of them made him hard and he inhaled sharply when he watched you start to remove your jeans, making a show of taking those off too, then running your hands slowly over your panties, adjusting them a bit and wiggling your ass in the mirror just for him to see.

He smirked a bit as he watched you, shifting a bit in his seat as the tightness in his pants caused him discomfort and he let out a soft groan, he glanced down to see his cock was fully hard now, then when he looked back up he saw that you had disappeared from in front of the mirror, he was curious of where you went. You had climbed into your bed, carefully stripping off your panties, and lying back against the pillows, spreading your legs open, you weren't normally this bold but his words, "The things I would do to you..." kept replaying in your head, rather curious about what those things might be, giggling softly as you called out for him. "Austin.. Could come in here please? I need a little help figuring something out." you shouted.

"Uh, sure.. One second." he said as he got up from the couch, trying to adjust his pants in a way that his hard on wasn't so obvious and then he proceed to walk into your bed room and the moment he did his eyes widen at the sight of you, completely naked and your legs spread wide open, your pussy on full display for him and glistening already with your slick and you were propped up against the pillows in a way that your breasts were on perfect display for him as well, he licked his lips slowly, not able to take his eyes off you, his cock throbbing and begging to be released from his jeans as the tightness only made things more uncomfortable for him. "Uh... W-What did you need help with?" he said as he gulped thickly, feeling like the room was getting hot all of a sudden, his reaction causing you to blush. "Hm, y'know.. I was wondering if you'd show me those things you wanted to do to me.. Please?" you said softly, practically begging him with your eyes as you twirled a strand of your hair between your fingers, noticing the huge bulge in his pants.

"Oh... I..." he chuckled nervously, thinking this was all dream, he secretly pinched himself to be sure. Nope, not a dream... "Well? Are you going to just stand there or are you going to take what you've been wanting?" you asked, so turned on that it was making you impatient. "Oh, I'm going to take what I've been wanting, baby..." he mumbled softy, that nervous part of him gone as he was filled with so much lust for you and the way you were giving yourself to him like this. You watched with excitement as he quickly began to undress in front of you, almost struggling to get out of his clothes because he was so excited, you laughed softly, shaking your head at him. Once he was finally undress, you nearly gasped at the sight and the size of his cock, chewing on your bottom lip wanting him so bad, your toes already curling against the bed. "C'mere.." he whispered, gesturing you over to him with two of his fingers, ready to show you a few of things he's thought about doing to you.

You sat up in the bed, and slowly crawled over to him and sitting down on the edge of the bed, waiting and wondering what he could possibly want to do with you, as your eyes slowly casted down toward his cock and then back up at him, and he leaned down to kiss your lips, you leaned forward returning the soft kiss. "Can you get down on your knees for me... I want to feel your mouth around me..." he whispered softly against your lips, tucking some of your hair behind your ears a lips curling up into a grin. You nodded at his words, slowly sinking down to your knees in front of him, continuing to stare up at him with such an innocent look in your eyes, glancing down to see his cock directly in your face, you nearly moaned at the sight of it, feeling your wetness pooling between your legs, squeezing your thighs together to feel some sort of friction.

You reached a hand up wrapping it around the length of his cock, parting your lips just a bit, sticking your tongue out to swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock, keeping your eyes on him, wanting to see his expressions as you pleased him, he let out a soft groan as soon as he felt your tongue on his tip, resting his hand on top of your head, as he watched you. You smirked a bit at the sound of his moan, licking up some of the precum that coated the tip of his cock, tasting the saltiness of it on your tongue and then you parted your lips open even further, sitting up a bit more on your knees as you slowly took him into your mouth, feeling his body shudder the moment you did, his groans growing a tad louder now was your mouth was wrapped around him, getting as much as you can of him inside of your mouth, pumping him slowly into your mouth, seeing his happy expressions as his eyes rolled back. "Y/N, fuck...." he mumbled under his breath.

You moved your hand that was wrapped around the base of his cock and moved it down to fondle his balls a bit as you pumped him faster into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat the deeper you took him, soft gags escaping your mouth, spit gathering at the sides of your mouth and coating his cock, soft whimpers escaping you and coming out muffled around him. "Fuck... I love the way your mouth feels around my cock.." he grunted, he reached down to grab a hand full of your breasts, his large hands groping and squeezing them, you loved that his hands were big enough to manhandle the size of them. You relaxed your throat a bit and decided to take his cock down deep, obscene noises escaping your from your mouth as you did, gaging a bit louder and more spit gathering around your lips, dripping down your chin and onto your breasts as you held yourself down on his cock for a moment. "Oh shit..." he growled, his groans coming out in droves, and then he grabbed a hand full of your hair, pulling you off his cock roughly, and it popped out of your mouth, strings of saliva dripping from it and landing on your breasts.

You giggled softly, licking your lips as you saw his expression and he leaned down to kiss your spit covered lips. "Can I do something else I've dreamt about doing to you?" he mumbled with a smirk, watching the spit land on your chest, only turning him on more. You glanced up at him again, nodding at his words. He grinned at your response. "Sit up on your knees for me, baby." he said softly and you did as you were told, sitting up on your knees for him wondering what he could want to do, he positioned himself in a way that his cock was inline with your breasts, he grabbed them with his hands quite roughly and burying his cock in between them, holding himself in place with them as he squeezed your breasts tight around his cock, he let out a soft groan from how soft they felt around him, his cock already lubed up with your spit and the little bit that dripped on your chest, but he needed more and he spit down into your breasts where his cock was buried and you let out a soft gasps, finding all of this so fucking hot and getting even more turned on, you could feel the slick between your legs dripping down your thighs as this point.

Then suddenly he began to pump his cock right in between your breasts, his movements more steady as if he was fucking your pussy, his groans becoming louder once again the harder he plunged into them, you stared up at him whimpering softly as you chewed on your bottom lip and glanced back down to watch his cock moving between your breasts, he grabbed a hold of your hands forcing you to hold your breasts for him to keep his cock in place as he grabbed a hold of your shoulders, fucking them harder. "Fuck... they feel so goddamn good..." he managed to mumble out between his groans, your whimpers growing a bit louder the rougher his movements became, but then he suddenly pulled his cock from between them as he breathed heavily, you pouted playfully at him. "God your tits will make me cum in an instant if I don't stop.." he chuckled softly. You giggled softly. "Mm.. Would that be a bad thing?" you whispered. "Mhm... I'm not done with you yet... Now go lay down on the bed for me." he laughed.

You smirked at his words, standing up and climbing back onto the bed for him, laying down on your back, watching as he followed behind you, grabbing a hold of your thighs and parting your legs for him, he saw the slick that had dripped down your thighs, glistening against your skin. "Damn... You're so wet, baby.." he smirked, he moved himself in between your legs, laying down in between them and pressing his tongue against your right thigh, licking up every inch of your slick that coated it, you shivered beneath him the moment his tongue came into contact with your thigh, squirming a bit. "Austin..." you whimpered out softly, feeling his tongue suddenly on your left thigh licking up on the slick that coated that one. He glanced up at you, licking his lips. "Mm.. Nice and sweet for me." he grinned, not wasting a moment as you felt his lips on your dripping, aching pussy, his tongue parting your lips and licking, slurping and sucking up every bit of your juices, your legs trembling around him as your hands grasped the sheets beneath him. "A-Austin... Fuck..." you whimpered out.

His tongue pressing firmly against your clit, flicking it between his tongue and playing with the sensitive bud, sucking lightly on it and circling his tongue around it, groaning softly against your pussy as he tried to devour all of you into his mouth, wrapping his hands around your thighs and squeezing them tightly as his tongue teased your hole for a moment before he plunged his tongue deep inside of your warm wet pussy. Your whole body trembling before him, as you moaned his name out repeatedly, your eyes rolling shut and your head tilting back as you cried out his name as you felt his tongue fucking you deep, his face buried in your pussy, his nose pressed up against your clit and you slowly grind your hips up against him, feeling his nose brushing up against your clit, creating more friction, more pleasure, your moans only growing louder as your body squirmed and trembled, so ready to just cum all over his face right then and there.

But you felt him slip his tongue out of you and you let out a soft whine the moment he did and opening your eyes, not wanting him to stop, he lifted his head up with a smirk at the sound of your whine. Your eyes on him the entire time as you watched him climb on top of you, his lips pressing soft kisses against your messy breasts, showing them so much attention as your labored breath hitched a bit as you felt his mouth wrap around one of your nipples sucking softly, you were already so sensitive to the touch, that it drove you over the edge, then you felt him move over to the other, wrapping his mouth around it and sucking softly, and then he released it, kissing up your breasts and to your lips. "Ready for the next thing I've been wanting to do?" he mumbled against your lips. You nodded your head, whimpering softly as you felt him brushing the tip of his cock between your soaked lips. "Y-Yes... Please..." you begged him.

He smirked at your pleading words and he slowly guided his cock into you tight wet pussy, a soft groan leaving his mouth the moment his cock pushed inside of you, feeling you clench around him which only made him force himself deep inside of you, letting out a louder groan and you gasps softly, letting out a whimpering moan at the rough feeling of his cock. "Fuckkkk... You are so tight... I always wonder how'd you feel around my cock, baby..." he mumbled softly into your ear as he began to pump his cock inside of you, your legs wrapping around his torso and as they did he began to slam his hips into your own, every inch of him was slamming inside of you, stretching you out and forcing you to adjust to the size of him and taking him deep, your hands reaching up and clawing at his back as you held onto him tight as he plunged into you, your moans only growing louder, filling the room with your noises, your eyes rolling shut as you moaned his name on your lips over and over, like your mantra, like it was the only name you knew.

He was pushing you further and further into your bliss, and you were so sensitive and overstimulated from everything he had done to you, that you were already feeling your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, aching and begging to crash ashore, in between this amazing pleasure that you are experiencing you couldn't get over the fact that it was him Austin, your best friend, the man that you've had such a crush on for so long, the one person you trusted more than anyone and it just seemed so surreal that you were sharing your body in such an intimate way with him and how he knew just how to please you and make you feel good. Nearly having the wind knocked out of you as you felt him grab your hips as he slammed harder against you, his cock hitting places within you that had you shaking, he was moaning softly in your ear, nearly breathless as he was approaching his own orgasm. "Oh my... A-Austin.. I..." you could hardly get the words out, but you were about to cum, your orgasm hitting you with full force as your body tensed up, your body twitching. "I'm gonna cum..." you cried out against him.

"C-Cum.. for me, baby.." he managed to mumble out softly as he continued his rough movements, his name leaving your lips even louder as it felt like your body was exploding as you came all over his cock, breathing heavily and your head spinning as you finished, slowly riding out that high and he grunted lowly, his orgasm hitting him quick and he reached down to pull his cock out of you, stroking himself steadily, his eyes rolling back, his cock twitching and pulsing in his hand as aimed his cock at your breasts, warmth of his cum shooting out of him covering your breasts in the thick white liquid, milking every last drop of himself onto you, before collapsing onto the bed beside you, out of breath and his body trembling as he tried to collect himself, but you were feeling the same way, the room felt like it was still spinning as you laid there exhausted covered in his cum.

"I've been wanting to do that to you for so long...." he whispered under his heavy breath. You looked over at him, giggling softly. "That was so hot..." you said softly with a grin and and slowly climbed out of the bed, feeling his hand reach over to slap your ass and you let out a soft squeal, glancing back at him with playful glare as you made your way into the bathroom to clean the mess he made on your chest and strolling back into the room with a smile once you were done, grabbing a hold of his jacket and slipping it back on with a wide smile. He sat up on his elbows as he stared at you with a smirk, loving the way you looked in his jacket especially naked. You walked back over to the bed, playfully modeling yourself in his jacket before climbing on top of him.

"I bet you love this jacket even more now, hm?" you said softly, giggling.

"Mhm... It's my favorite, but it's my favorite on you." he said, leaning up to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, wanting to go a second round with you was tempting as ever in that moment.

Taglist: @ccab @lindszeppelin @ilovehobi101 @peaceloveelvis @infatuatedharleys @pennyroyalcreep @krissy25 @purejasmine

tagging whoever wanted the part two. sorry if I forgot anyone!!!

#austin butler #austin butler smut #Austin butler image #austin x reader #austin butler x y/n

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