#because this sort of reaction would not be common at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

secretsandwriting · 8 days

Note

heyyyy ryyyyy <333

since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?

obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this

hope you have a great day bb

Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.

Earned Position

5.3k words

You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that.

Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama.

When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you.

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.

You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.

While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were.

Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death.

Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow.

The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone.

Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed.

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders.

“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back.

The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.

Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger.

When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections.

Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there.

6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him.

“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.

“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.

“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating.

“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.”

A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.

Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would.

It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself.

Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once.

So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.

“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”

“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited.

“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting.

“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!”

“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”

“Maybe..”

“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”

So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores.

Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving.

Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.

Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird.

One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was.

When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.

When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind.

When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning.

So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.

“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.

Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it.

When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped.

You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.

While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last.

“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”

Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe.

The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you.

Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to.

So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough.

When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence.

Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.

When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.

Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear.

“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”

That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that.

Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.

She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky.

What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you.

When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.”

Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”

And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were.

Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.

So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it.

War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.

“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable.

“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.

Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.

Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.

Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.

Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left.

Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.

Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.

Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had.

He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.

Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.

He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.

Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother.

He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too.

Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her.

He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size.

Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much.

“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”

Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.

#dc #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #fem reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #Damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #batfamily x reader #batmom reader #batmom #request #cipheress-to-k-pop

424 notes · View notes

ma1dita · 6 months

Text

about you

this was a request! read it here

words: 4.3k (longest one yet ohmy)

summary: james potter takes ‘easier’ for granted and finds out he now has a living reminder of that

warnings: none! sort of au, everyone lives and they win the war— angst angst angst, maybe open ended!!! groveling james and reader is a MOTHA (afab!)

a/n: guys i missed writing angst…i’m a deeply sad soul at heart so i enjoyed this a lot. I listened to ‘night shift’ by lucy dacus writing the first half, and ‘about you’ by the 1975 for the second half,,,,, both on repeat. i don’t mean to post at ungodly hours but i hope you enjoy!

posted: 11/11/23

—-

Insecurity is an ugly thing. It tugs at your frame, holding your shoulders hostage and your countenance shriveled in a scowl as you slink forward in your seat. But what should the rational reaction be when your boyfriend, the one you’ve planned out the rest of your life with— takes you out to dinner on a random Tuesday and then decidedly backtracks on everything you’ve built together? Your ears are ringing loudly, and you dumbly ask him to repeat himself when he says he wants to take a break.

“So that’s it then. You’ve made your decision and I just have to be okay with losing a year and a half of my life because you aren’t sure if you love me?” Your tone cuts through the fraying tether that holds you two together in the corner booth.

James for once, is at a loss for words. He wasn’t really sure of what to expect when he brought you here tonight, but any reaction to his admission was bound to hurt the both of you. You had to have known about his hesitations. Graduation was three weeks away, and everything was about to change, whether either of you liked it or not. Stupidly enough, James does love you, but that’s not the problem. The proximity he’s had as Head Boy working with Lily Evans makes him wonder if the life he lives is what’s meant for him. It keeps him up at night, gnawing at his resolve and comfort in being with you. He feels ungrateful to have it so easy. Loving you is easy. But the imposter syndrome sneaks into his room late at night in the form of ‘what if’.

“I…it’s just the timing of it all. We’re about to leave Hogwarts, and I don’t want to tie you down if I know I’m unsure of my—our future.”

He reaches out to grab your hand, and many a time ago, his sense of awareness was what you admired about him. You’d both get this familiar feeling of needing comfort, and within a minute, your fingers would intuitively find the other’s like it was second nature. Now, the thought of his touch might make you break his hand off to serve on a silver platter.

“Fuck your timing. If you think it’s as easy as making the decision to just quit while we’re ahead…. I love you. Don’t you…Is that not—”

You clear your throat, the fire in your indignation being stifled by the whimpering feeling of knowing this was going to happen. The understanding of his plight, the knowing that he wants more. You could see it in the way his eyes wander when you all hang out, and you could feel it when he needs time to himself before bed, letting you back to your common room in the late hours alone. Screw your heart for appealing to his indecisiveness, his fear, when the final blow is aimed at the relationship you both once wanted together. Head Boy and Head Girl share living quarters after all. What chance did you stand against the girl he fell asleep a room away from? Maybe he dreams of her too, what you couldn’t give and what more she has to offer.

“Tell me something James,” you choke as your body heaves with something akin to nausea. Being lovesick isn’t as romantic as it seems. The hopeless feeling in your tummy throbs as you clench your fists to keep it all down.

“Whatever you want.”

His reply makes you laugh, desolation gripping your esophagus. Who knew feeling empty would feel like drowning? There is no more air left in your lungs that it almost incapacitates you, your last breath spilling out your final ask of him.

“Do you love me? What did I do?”

The noise and chatter around you seems to fall silent as he zeroes in on your face, crestfallen from the words that leave your lips. It isn’t your fault, but how can he tell you that? At 18, he’s feeling stifled by the privilege of having his life all planned out for him. He knows people spend their lives searching for contentment but James can’t decipher if he’s right for all of this pressure falling upon his shoulders. The societal heir of his father’s business empire. The face of the upcoming war, bringing in a new generation of soldiers to fight.

Deep inside, he’s a wild spirit just wanting to live, to be free. And it scares him that you’d follow him to the ends of the Earth, that there isn’t much thinking involved, just doing. The lack of autonomy stifles his soul. How does one know if they’re meant for more? James doesn’t want you to have to suffer the consequences if he can’t figure it out himself.

“I love you honey. So much it hurts me. I just wonder if it’s enough.”

Your hands clatter onto the table, bumping your half-empty pint of butterbeer as you gather your things, shoving them into your knapsack as his final blow hits your senses. And all he does is watch you, face transfixed as if he sees nothing, like he isn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.

There’s no going back after this, you think silently as you steady your trembling hands. There’s also no way in hell you’ll let him see you cry. Fuck that. Your eyes fall over the curls that drape over the frame of his glasses, his face cradled by candlelight and dear Merlin, do you love this boy. All of him, even the parts that don’t reciprocate the feeling. This is the final snapshot in your memory of him, because this fleeting moment will have to be enough.

“I hope you get everything you ever wanted James. For my sake, I hope I never hear a thing about it.”

Perhaps having the last word will absolve you of the feeling that desecrates your entire essence as you put one foot in front of the other, pushing past the door of the Three Broomsticks and out into the unknown. But it’s not enough.

—

The break in routine absolutely shatters you, if we’re being honest. A year and a half of loving him, and three more before that of liking the slow steady burn that is James Potter…. It’s like looking at the world with new eyes and this window of opportunity with graduation nearing is your chance of starting anew. There’s also the custodial aspect after the end of a relationship, and it’s hard to separate the rest of what’s yours and his in your mind. Your friends are his, and his are yours. It makes quite a predicament to not have things so easy as they consider who to eat lunch with, or who’s dorm to hang out in. Hopefully, things get easier with time but you’re not as confident as you once were.

A part of you feels like you don’t belong anywhere anymore. James is the sun, after all; a natural leader— everyone revolves around his ingenious ideas and the light he brings. He’s the one who always has a plan, and everyone follows in his stead. Where do you fit in all of that? Where do you go?

His parents are likely the loveliest people to ever grace the wizarding world. Euphemia catches you by the arm after the graduation ceremony as you’re about to take the 7th year boat back across the Black Lake. With no family in attendance and no boyfriend to dote on, niceties were expended quick enough to want to run out of there and never look back.

“Darling, are you leaving without a goodbye?” Mrs. Potter smiles, calling her husband over both with grins made of sunlight.

Somehow it resonates in your brain that it’s finally over, and your lip trembles when they pull you in for a hug that rivals your hunger to be loved. You think that even if your parents showed up today, it wouldn’t have felt this kind.

“Congratulations dearest! We’re so proud of you,” Fleamont rumbles, a big man with an even bigger heart as he brandishes flowers out of thin air to hand to you daintily. You’re going to miss them terribly. Is it wrong to want more of this? But you remember why it’s not as James’s cologne floods your senses and his silhouette creeps into your periphery. Your smile grows smaller as you two stare at each other and breathe the same air for the first time in almost a month. Whatever’s thrumming in your being, he holds the key to. Mr. and Mrs. Potter try to loop you into a photo together, the magical kind that moves to capture a memory so intimately but both of you stand perfectly still as his and your hesitant dismissals go unheard.

Loving hands fuss over both your caps and the way hair sticks out until you feel your shoulders jostle together for a moment and his hand lands on the small of your back. The flash goes off as you two look at each other in something that still resembles love. You can’t unlove him, not in a day, a month, or ever, you think. Not if you’ve bared your soul to him, even if he hurt you.

You look away first, urging your heart to come back to reality. He’s not yours anymore, and you still love him. Alice told you earlier that he asked Lily out on a date for next Tuesday. What you were supposed to do with that information you’re unsure, but the feeling in your belly helps you say goodbye to the Potters, and clarify that they can keep the picture since you’re not James’ girlfriend anymore. An awkward silence settles over all four of you.

Euphemia rubs your cheek, hushed promises of keeping in touch while Fleamont looks at his son in confusion. James’ hand flexes in the absence of your body against his. He simply watches you walk away again, alone, while he’s surrounded by his friends and his family. The beating of a tiny heart matching your own as you hop onto the boat proves otherwise.

—-

A baby.

You think back to when it must’ve happened, the weekend before that Tuesday, when everything still felt right. With your last exams of your academic career finally done, both you and James were tangled in his silk sheets until dawn, an amalgamation of passionate whispers and lingering touches you could still feel in the days that followed. As you stared at the flutter of his eyelashes and relished the way he pulled you closer in his dream state, you were quite sure that he is, too, tangled within your soul to let go. That your doubts were residual anxiety from preparing for the future. For the first time in a while, you were reaffirmed that the boy sleeping next to you was your forever. Not being careful was a consequence of feeling safe in his arms, and subconsciously, you both hoped that everything would work itself out. As you walked out of the Head Students’ Lounge past noon with James’ hickeys as a necklace and donning your boyfriend’s shirt, you noticed the blush on Lily Evans’ face. You were just so sure, but that felt like forever ago.

Your parents weren’t happy when they came back from their business trip two months after graduation to find you four months along with a prominent bump and filled with so much fear. All plans of getting a job, of moving out, and joining the Order were now replaced with the startling fact that you are 18 and don’t have a single clue on what to do next. Your childhood bedroom feels smaller tonight, with both your parents standing at the door, all of you unsure of what to say. You can’t remember the last time they tucked you in, but as your dad takes a seat on the edge of your bed, it seems possible that maybe you won’t be alone in all of this.

“Whatever decision you make will be the right one, sweetie. If you love that baby, then we do too,” he sniffles, and you don’t recall having ever seen him this emotional before. One thing you are sure of, is this baby is loved, and made from love. The next is that England is not a safe place to raise your baby.

Somewhere far away, in a hidden place guarded by some of the most experienced wizards, the Order of the Phoenix meets again to determine the future of the wizarding world. James’s eyes dart back and forth from the door to whichever adult is talking about the next mission. You didn’t show up again. All of the meetings so far where he was always the first one to arrive and the last to leave in hopes of getting a glimpse of you, and you never showed. There’s a deep worry that haunts him as the months pass by, and he knows that it would be easy to send you a letter, or to show up at your door, but he’s probably the last person you want to see.

“We’re going out for a pint, you ready to leave James?” Lily whispers into his ear, arms curling around to his chest. But he’s not ready at all, sat on the sofa with his eyes on the door, just in case. Trying to love someone who’s still in love is a losing battle, Lily thinks, as she watches her boyfriend look like a child missing their favorite blanket. But in a war like this one, no one would be foolish enough to decline company.

“I’ll meet you there,” he smiles, leaning back to kiss her cheek. It’s cruel to both of them, the way he’s acting knowing that Lily won’t ever be you. Every chance he gets to have a moment to himself, he thinks of the despondent look on your face as you walked away from him and his parents that day. No more anger at all, no biting words or the fighting spirit that he knows and loves. Both of you just accepted what was to come.

Sirius and Remus approach him later after everyone’s left that they got word that you moved to America. He thinks of what could’ve been, and the thought of your safety is the only thing that lets his mind rest as guilt pushes and pulls at his heartstrings like waves.

He’s spent these months fighting in the war, loving and losing that he thinks this isn’t anything like the white house and picket fence fantasy you both used to cook up. As he grabs his coat to leave, James wonders if by being away from all of this you’ll get to live the life you want.

—

“Okay honey, hold on tight to mama.”

Your little boy was almost bouncing off the pavement with a chocolate covered grin, and it makes you laugh harder than it should. Maybe Florean Fortescue’s was not the way to start off your son’s first trip to Diagon Alley, but your new job at the Ministry starts tomorrow and you’ve been missing your favorite stationery. The town was packed with people with the war having ended and trying to start anew. You haven’t seen any familiar faces and maybe years ago that was a bad thing, but hope spreads over Diagon Alley with strangers smiling at Christopher as he skips on the cobblestone, almost tripping over his own feet at the entrance of Flourish and Blotts.

He runs forward to explore the store as you smile at your creation, letting him wander along the aisles as you have done years before. Being back here is like walking through a memory, and though it used to be home, you know yours is walking around in tiny bright red shoes that light up like his smile. Your fingers flip through the different quills and parchment on display, and after finding everything you need, you hear your son’s laughter in the opposite corner of the shop. Motherly instincts always prevail as your feet guide you to the sound of his voice, since he’s never been one to shy away from a friendly conversation.

“Did you find everything you were looking for, honey?”

James’ head whips up from the tiny boy he was entertaining with color-changing quills to see you, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose to make sure he’s seeing properly. The both of you go quiet as time stands still, with Christopher chattering at your feet.

“Mama! Look at this one, it goes rainbow!” he says, tugging at your coat to see the quill in James’s hand. The pieces start to fit together in James’ mind, looking at your pursed lip, then to the sight of this boy smiling with the innocence he had a lifetime ago. This boy, his son, has your eyes. You shake your head rapidly as he intakes a breath of air.

“Honey?” he whispers, knowing that was his name for you.

“So what, he looks like a honey,” you say defensively, grabbing your son’s hand.

He looks like my son, his eyes say—both of you look down to the child who’s all grins and none the wiser piping up.

“My name’s Topher!”

“Yes it is, and now it’s time to say goodbye to the nice man, okay?” Topher pouts and looks up at his father without even knowing it, handing him the quill.

“Keep it. I’ll pay for it, and then you can write to me,” he says almost desperately, losing grip of everything that he’s been trying to convince himself for the past 7 years.

“Don’t be weird, Potter. Don’t…” you shake your head, eyes misting over. Seeing him again brought back everything. It was already overwhelming to have a kid that’s almost the splitting image of him, to learn of a love so pure after one that’s wrecked you to your core, but being here, within arms reach… You’re 18 again and scrambling away from the corner booth trying to get away from the man you love most not wanting you in return.

“Honey, why don’t you give us a minute to talk? Go find me some cool enchanted stickers for me to bring to work tomorrow, okay?” Your baby runs off without even questioning it, his sense of adventure also inherited from his father.

“I’m…so sorry.” James moves closer to you, and you take a step back sighing humorlessly.

“For what? He’s an amazing kid. Even though… he wasn’t planned, I don’t think I could ever see my life turning out any other way.” You shift your weight to your other foot. He looks, successful, if that’s something he would be proud of. He’s wearing an impressive suit, and his eyes are a bit hardened by the past few years, but his charisma, his smile…. He’s still the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I feel foolish. I was so scared to live my life and then here you are raising our child…”

You blink softly at his words, and it reminds him of your youth, all doe-eyed and full of want. You used to want him like he still wants you. In front of him is a grown woman, a mother who’s strong and filled with memories and love that he should’ve been a part of.

“Things happen for a reason, James. We both did what we had to do.”

His hand brushes yours, and you realize you’ve been without his touch for 7 years. 7 years of being scrubbed clean of James Potter, and not a single regenerated cell in your body has been touched by him. But your son is of him, so you think that no matter how this ends, there will always be a part of you that loves James too.

You extend an olive branch to have him come to your apartment this weekend and get to talk. He knows he doesn’t deserve this kindness, but you know he deserves to meet his son.

—-

The doorbell rings and you take a deep breath as you open the front door, looking up at him holding a teddy bear for Topher.

“He’s still down for a nap. Let’s go sit in the den.” You say quietly. The hallway is filled with pictures of your boy, and of you in different stages these past few years. He stops at a portrait of your parents with Topher being swung between them.

“Your parents….”

“Were supportive; I wasn’t alone,” you muse, knowing he knows of your strained relationship with them back then.

“They actually just retired early last year. Overworked themselves and finally comfortable, so they help out when they can. What about yours?” Trying to make conversation with your ex is terribly hard, but it’s in good spirit and there’s not much to do until Topher wakes up.

“They passed, actually. Mum at the end of the war, and dad 6 months after. Never wanted to be apart, you know that.”

Your face falls at his revelation, “I’m sorry for your loss. They were amazing people. Taught me what it meant to be a parent, for sure.” Amicable silence fills the living room before you clear your throat.

“I have to be blunt, James. What do you want from this? You must be married and busy, so if Topher can’t fit into that….”

“I’m neither of those things, honey. I want to try and see where this goes,” he says scratching the back of his neck.

Your heart stops at his endearment, catching yourself looking at him seriously.

“You can hurt me, but I’m not letting you do that to him. Back then, you were all I ever wanted love to be. And then I had my beautiful baby, and I suddenly knew my love meant more.”

“I never wanted to hurt you. It was a mistake, because I was too proud to accept that I had it good. That what I had was meant for me.” James grabs your hands, begging for you to understand. The lost boy he was is a lifetime away from the man sitting in front of you now. Though it’s touching, you keep your heart guarded because the little boy sleeping down the hall is your biggest priority. You hope he can understand that too.

“He’s not a placeholder for your dreams of wanting a family. You have to build that, I did that myself. I’m not going to let you string him along and then once you have a family of your own, you just up and leave.”

“I know. I was hoping the both of you could be my family, if you give me the chance.” You bite your lip as your thumb runs against his. It’s easier to forgive than to forget. But for Topher’s sake, you can try.

“Tell me something James,” you whisper, having needed to know this for the past 7 years.

“Why did you throw it all away? Was the idea of loving me…so terrible?” He tilts your chin up, and you think that the earnest look on his face is the closure you needed to properly forgive him.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. Loving you is the best part of knowing you. Do you think I ever forgot about you?” He chuckles lowly, brushing back a strand of your hair, and you think this could be dangerous if you let yourself get too close.

“I’ve thought about you everyday for the past 7 years, I just didn’t think I deserved you after everything I’ve done. I was so stupid, I am still. But I’m trying to be better.”

“You think of me but dreamt of her. Was it guilt?” Your hand grabs his as you move it away from your cheek, settling onto your lap. The air around you is suffocating.

“It took time for me to figure out that it was intention. Lily was a distraction. You’ve consumed me since the day I met you. My dreams, my thoughts… All of it is you. I choose to think about you as much as I can, because if I didn’t I was scared I’d forget all the good things about us back then.”

You both hear a thump from your son’s room and realize you’re wiping tears away. James stands up when you do, and both pairs of your socked feet pad closer to your son’s room.

“We start this slow. We make decisions together, and if there’s any inkling I get that he doesn’t want this, it’s done. You understand?” Your hands are firm on the doorknob as he’s standing close behind you, hanging onto every word.

“Every word. There’s no turning back from this.” He wants to ask another question, but before he can, your hand unconsciously finds his and your grip is so comforting that he notices himself sniffle.

“If it all goes well, and if you want, we can try again. But that’s in the far distant future, James Potter.”

“Anything you want, honey. That’s the future I’ve been dreaming of.” With you. Your lips quirk into a smile as they brush against his cheek.

Slowly opening the door to both watch your son wake up from his nap, your hand pulls James into the room behind you. Quietly, he sits on the edge of Christopher’s bed, and when his son looks up at him, you both notice the little boy beaming like the sun.

—-

“Everything you love is very likely to be lost, but in the end, love will return in a different way.” -Franz Kafka

taglist: @jsjcue

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing:

night shift by lucy dacus & about you by the 1975

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders era #james potter x reader #marauders x reader #james potter x reader angst

897 notes · View notes

suugarbabe · 8 months

Text

Saving Grace IV

[Chapter 4]

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x reader

Word count: ~3.2k

Warnings: mentions of blood, fighting, smut adjacent activity

Mattheo was not fucking around when he said he was heavy into the public displays of affection and physical touch. You had expected and anticipated it during the dinner where you first met each other’s friends, and even at the party given that it was (1) a party and (2) had alcohol which, at least for you personally, heavily lowered your inhibitions and heighted your risk taking choices, hence the lap dance that Theo and Enzo were still talking and teasing about at dinners. Thankfully it had died down over the last couple of days, but just about every two meals one of them will start humming the tune to the song you danced to. The lap dance at the party and Adrian’s initial reaction had seemed to fuel Mattheo further to only display affection more and more.

Mattheo was laying it on pretty thick, especially in potions class, that you now all three had together. That first Monday after the party Mattheo had walked to class with you. To anyone else it probably seemed just like any other couple walking to class together, but you knew that Mattheo didn’t want Adrian thinking he had any sort of chance of being remotely near you during this period. And Mattheo was right, as soon as you both walked into Potions, Adrian was sat at the table you normally occupied. Mattheo could tell by the look on your face that you were annoyed, so in a big display he threw you over his shoulder and brought you to the back of the classroom to an empty table. You had swatted at his back playfully, telling him to put you down and that he was essentially flashing your ass to the class. He assured you he held your skirt down because “he was a gentleman”. You attempted to roll your eyes at him but he grabbed your chin firmly, winking at you before kissing you deeply, only to be interrupted by Professor Slughorn walking in and clearing his throat, informing the two of you that you were in fact in Potions and not ‘Snogging 101’. You would’ve been embarrassed if you weren’t incredibly satisfied with how pissed off Adrian looked.

That was a rather tame display of affection compared to others in the weeks after. Mattheo would hook a finger in the waist of your skirt in the hall to snag you away from wherever you were headed and pull you closer to him. Or he would be just slightly obnoxious and walk to class with his arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind, resting his chin on your head and clunking his feet along yours causing you to erupt into fits of laughter each time he almost tripped. His height helped him spot Adrian in the halls, and he would always pull you off to the side and kiss you deeply, sometimes being a little cheeky with a hand around your throat like that first day in the great hall. You had to admit that part you was getting a little addicted to it all. You were really trying your hardest to not fall for Mattheo and his antics, but he was either a really good actor, or he was liking the set up you guys created just as much as you were starting to. You were validating this theory based on two occasions.

The first was about a week after the party, you and Mattheo had made a routine of walking to potions together and you were waiting for him in the common room, per usual. He had been pretty good at being on time since he knew how much of a stickler you were, but that day he had obviously fallen back to his old ways. You were sitting on the arm of one of the couches, waiting for Mattheo, seemingly watching every other slytherin boy leave for classes. When Enzo and Theo passed you stopped them, asking if they had seen Mattheo. Theo smirked, telling you he was ‘still sleeping, but maybe you should go give him a happy wake up call’. You rolled your eyes, but nevertheless you found yourself walking up the steps to the boys dorm.

“Mattheo!” You knocked on the door, pressing your ear to the wood and listening for any movement, but all you heard was deep snoring. You frowned, flicking your wand and unlocking the door. You looked around the room, hearing the snoring but each boy's bed just looked like a pile of duvets. Then you spotted the familiar curls. “Mattheo,” you sang out his name, his response was a long snore. You trailed your fingers lightly up the duvet to the edge just over his shoulder, gripping the covers and ripping them back. Your cheeks instantly aflame at the sight of his near naked state. The lack of cover made no difference to Mattheo, which you were slightly thankful for because all you could do was stare. Freckles painted along his tan, muscular back. The way he sprawled across the bed made his boxer shorts ride up, exposing more of his thigh and Merlin was quidditch great to him. He stirred slightly, likely noticing the lack of warmth. He turned over, seeing you standing next to his bed, “Enjoying the view, Princess?” Your eyes were glued to his chest but you heard the smugness in voice and instantly looked to the floor, “I, erm, we’re just late Mattheo, you know I hate that.”

He sighed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you down onto him. You let out a small yelp, not quite expecting that movement from him. You sat up, Mattheo grabbing your hips and now you were straddling his lap. “Mattheo,” you went to protest but he only shushed you. “I’m sorry, Princess. I told Theo to wake me but clearly he didn’t,” you wanted to be mad at him, but the way his fingers were dancing up and down your thighs, barely slipping under your school skirt and back had you melting. “I-I guess it’s fine,” you we’re definitely sporting a pout on your face but Mattheo’s smile never faulted. “Besides, coming in late together might make everyone think we were up to something,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, making you giggle and slap his chest. Footsteps could be heard coming down the hall and Mattheo pulled your tie, crashing his lips to yours. You caught yourself, hands on his shoulders while his were now on your hips, ever so subtly moving you back on forth on his lap as you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You jumped off Mattheo’s lap and back to the floor, smoothing your skirt only to see Theo standing at the door. “Forgot my school bag, but don’t let me interrupt,” Theo’s face told you that teasing would be evident at lunch and you were correct.

Last week was another moment that had you questioning how ‘fake’ Mattheo’s feelings were for you. During your walk between classes you found yourself suddenly dragged into an empty classroom, before you could protest your back was against against a wall and Mattheo’s lips were slotted against yours. You sighed into the kiss, and he took advantage of this, slipping his tongue in your mouth, which you gladly welcomed. You were fisting his blazer, trying to pull him impossibly closer when two students walked into the room. One gasped, apologizing and flustered, which only made Mattheo giggle against your neck, still ghosting kisses along your skin before you pushed him away. The other student was Luna Lovegood, who simply stated, “Don’t be sorry, I think being in love is the most special of magic.” At this statement your cheeks were aflame, but Mattheo simply winked at her before pecking your forehead and heading to his next class.

You knew you liked Mattheo as a person. His kindness and humor were qualities you highly admired. But each stolen moment that appeared to be just the two of you had you questioning not only if he was liking you more than a friend, but if you did as well. It kept you up most nights, internally battling yourself. Would it really be so wrong? You two obviously had chemistry, everyone who saw the two of you interact thought so. Hell, most even told you so. You couldn’t fake it that well, could you? And then there was the way he’d sneak touches that seemed like they were only for him. Sitting next to you in classes or at the table in the great hall, hand possessively on your thigh, thumb tracing circles on your skin; no one else could see that, or would even notice where his hand was yet he still made the conscious thought to do it.

That’s why you were so nervous for potions today, it was going to be the ultimate test to your theory. Today would help clarify your own feelings as well as possibly Mattheo’s. Today you were tasked with making the love potion: Amortentia. When given the task, Mattheo gave your thigh a light squeeze, stating openly that he “already knew what his would smell like” before kissing your cheek. Two tables in front of you was Adrian, grumbling like a toddler at the display Mattheo was putting on. You smiled and pecked Mattheo’s lips, party for show and partly because you were afraid of any response you’d have and being too honest. Nevertheless, Slughorn encouraged you all to begin, stating he would make rounds and check everyone’s work.

You grabbed the peppermint petals and leaves, as well as the powdered moonstone and rose thorns. You knew that the potion would not be ready to be actually used for seven days, but you had read that, if made correctly, you could feel the effects of the vapors as the potion is being made. You were unsure how much you wanted to believe that section of text you read but as you kept stirring the scent of tobacco and sandalwood was almost dizzying. You knew that scent, it filled your lungs with every touch or passing that Mattheo gave. You needed to step away, clear your head, “Mattheo can you stir for a moment? I wanna check to make sure we got everything.” He simply grinned, “Sure, Princess.” He grabbed the rod, stirring the simmering liquid when his smile grew wider, turning to you again, “Did you shower this morning, Princess?” You scoffed playfully, crossing your arms, “Why, Riddle, implying I stink?” He shook his head, laughing lightly, “Of course not, love. It’s just, your shampoo is incredibly strong today.”

You swear your heart stopped. Your next hair washing day was not until tomorrow, which could only mean - “Okay, Mr. Riddle, Miss Y/l/n, let’s check your work, hmm?” Your thoughts interrupted by Slughorn. Mattheo nodded at the plump man, taking a step back and motioning with his hand for you to step up and smell it. You leaned over the cauldron, inhaling deeply. “I smell…cigarette smoke…sandalwood cologne and mint chewing gum,” you took a step back, looking to the floor sheepishly. You couldn't make eye contact with Mattheo, but if you had you would have seen the curious look in his eye before stepping up to the potion himself.

Taking a large breathe in, Mattheo began describing what he smelled, “Hmm..I smell, fresh linen…patchouli and…” he trailed off, eyes shooting open with a sudden realization. “Continue please, Mr. Riddle, what was the last you smelled?” Slughorn was cluelessly encouraging him, but Mattheo met your eyes as he nearly whispered, “s-strawberry vanilla shampoo.” Slughorn patted both of your shoulders, congratulating you both on your work and completely oblivious to the tension that was now suffocating the two of you. The second Slughorn dismissed class you were moving to leave the room, cursing Mattheo’s height as he caught up to you in just three long strides.

“Princess, we have to talk about this,” He was on your heels as you continued walking, clutching your books to your chest. “Y/n, c’mon…we need to talk about this,” he rarely used your full name, even though it was all supposedly a facade he was always using a pet name, princess, darling, love. So when your name fell from his lips you stop, turning to face him, “There’s nothing to talk about, what is there to say really?” He pulled you to the side of the corridor, leaning his shoulder against the wall, “C’mon, you know we smelled each other.” You shrugged, “We smell each other like, every day, Mattheo. We’re basically on top of each other in every public space.” You were trying to play it off, but he was having none of it. “We smelled each other, in the love potion, y/n. That’s not something you can make up, we have to talk about thi-”

“Well, well, trouble in fake paradise?” The sneer was evident in Adrian’s voice, your whole body tensing at his presence. Mattheo was instantly in a rage, “Sod off, shithole, you’re irrelevant here, as always.” The smirk on Adrian's face even made you irritated. It was like he thought he knew something no one else did, which, technically he was right, but now was not the time. But he didn't seem to care, just continued to poke the bear, it was like he couldn’t help himself, “You two were convincing in the beginning, but now it’s just sad to keep going. I get you wanted to make me jealous, Y/n, with the flirting and that lap dance, which was incredibly sexy by the way. But really, couldn’t you have picked anyone better?” Adrian took a step toward you as he spoke, backing you against the wall and reaching to cup your face. You were frozen in your spot, however Mattheo’s temper was boiled over.

He grabbed Adrian by the throat, slamming him on the corridor floor. Student’s all around backed up immediately forming a semi-circle around the commotion. Mattheo had Adrian pinned, kneeling on the ground next to him, his face leaning over Adrian’s as the tip of his wand was pressed to Adrian’s temple. “You know I could fucking kill you right now, don’t you Pucey? One simple spell, you know the one. You think my father didn’t teach me how to get rid of pests?” Adrian was squirming under Mattheo’s grip, obviously struggling to breath. “Or maybe I should just make you my puppet, hmm? Maybe then you’d have the decency to leave me and my girlfriend the fuck alone.” Adrian pulled at Mattheo’s fingers around his throat, managing two simple words, “Fuck you.”

Mattheo’s wand was thrown on the floor as he started pummeling Adrian’s face, his fists connecting one after the other as Pucey’s blood started to splatter on Mattheo’s school uniform. “Stop it!” You shouted at the scene, trying to get Mattheo’s attention, but his rage was all he could see. He was over how Adrian was treating you, over his entitlement and how he felt like he had some sort of right to you. He could tell Adrian was almost unconscious, Mattheo wanted to knock him out, make him really understand how serious he was about you, but then he heard your voice pleading again, “Mattheo, please.” He stood up, leaving Adrian groaning on the floor as the circle of student’s started whispering around them. He grabbed your hand, pulling you through the mob of people and headed back toward the common room.

He was leaning against the edge of the sink in your dorm bathroom now, opening and closing his fists and inspecting the cuts on his knuckles. You stood in front of him, holding out your palm for him to place his hand in yours. You waved your want over his cuts, whispering healing spells and watching them close and disappear, forming new scars next to old ones. You did the same to his other hand before placing your wand back in your pocket. Mattheo placed his index finger under your chin, making you look up, brown irises meeting yours, “You know we still have to talk about potions, y/n.” You sighed, nodding and taking his hand, leading him to your bed where you both sat at the edge.

He scooted closer to the middle, making you do the same so you could face each other. You were playing with your fingers, wringing your hands as you waited for either of you to break the silence. Mattheo grabbed your hands in his, giving them a light squeeze. You took a deep breath, “I smelled you. And not because we’re around each other all the time, or because I was making it up for show. I noticed as soon as all the ingredients were in the cauldron together. Before slughorn even asked us to test it out.” You were looking at your hands together, afraid to see what his reaction was. After all, you were the one to ask him for help, he didn’t have to do that, he was just being nice and now you were smelling him in love potions? But he didn’t pull away his hands after hearing what had to say, he was…laughing?

You looked up at him confused, but his eyes were nothing but pure adoration when they met yours. “I knew I was going to smell you, y/n.” You opened your mouth to reply but he continued on, “You are…so beautiful. Not just your looks, but your mind, the way you approach things, your spirit. I knew I liked you that first time I kissed you at dinner. Yes, at first I agreed to this whole thing and what not because I fucking loathe Adrain,” this made you laugh a little, “but after that first kiss, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to let this end.” You were speechless, Mattheo Riddle, bachelor extraordinaire just told you he liked you, like, wanted to be with you, liked you. What was happening? You weren’t supposed to fall for him, let alone him fall for you. You were just supposed to use him, you were-being snapped at again.

“Y/n, seriously? Overthinking or trying to come up with a nice way to reject me?” Mattheo was smiling at you zoning out. “I’m- I’m sorry, it’s just. I’m trying to process it all. I never really thought you would actually like me. I know you said I was pretty and such but, you kiss pretty girls all the time and I…ugh, I made a rule for myself when we first started this whole thing and I’m breaking that rule, but I guess I don’t care becaus-” Mattheo’s lips on yours cut your rambling short. Your hands were wrapped around his neck, tucking lightly at the curls and he slowly leaned further over you, laying you down on your back, lips never breaking from yours. One hand held him up, right next to your head while the other roamed your body, gliding over your neck, down the valley between your breasts and resting at your hip. You grab hold of the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, breathing him in like it’s your last breath before he finally pulled away. “Sorry,” he whispers shyly, “just couldn’t help m’self. What were you saying, love? What rule are you breaking?” You looked him over, eyes dancing with fondness, lips slightly red and swollen, your words tumbling out and not a single feeling of regret as you did so, “I’m falling for you, Mattheo.”

Taglist:

@v1olentdelights @cherry-hoe @itsamusical4lifee @chaosartic @b3ean @l4venderia @mypolicemanharryyy @ma-las @usmell4 @carav4l @thereallink @jinxxangel13 @stvrligghtt @taylors--version @classicfandomavenue @lucyispan @moonlightreader649 @badasseddy @icecube1912

*if your name is bolded i tried to tag you but it didn't show up for me. :(

#Saving Grace #Mattheo Riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle smut #golden era #harry potter

1K notes · View notes

avelera · 7 months

Text

Man, I just put back on OFMD 1.05 (the fancy party episode), and I think one really worthwhile itemization of Stede and Ed interactions would be around how many times Stede appears horrified by Ed's actions, but actually, he might really be horrified for Ed.

And I only bring this up because one common, I think, misinterpretation of Stede was that he's horrified or put off by violence. Understandable, given the face he pulls when, for example, Ed tells Fang to skin the French captain with a snail fork.

But now that we've Season 2, albeit eps. 1-3, including that gorgeous moment where Stede immediately clocked that Ed's trying to burn down the world or die trying, thus signaling that he knows Ed better than anyone, especially Izzy, ever expected... I think we can firmly put the, "Stede doesn't really get Ed," interpretation firmly to rest. It's totally fair that it existed! His facial expressions of horror were often ambiguous and could be read either way.

But I think we can very firmly say: All those times Stede seems horrified at Ed? He's horrified for Ed.

Even in the moment where he sort of gulps when Ed wants the French captain skinned was sort of re-written in my mind as I watched it, in light of Stede getting Ed so well in S2. Suddenly it's not Stede taken aback by extreme violence, no.

Stede is realizing just how deeply hurtful the French captain's words were to Ed. He's not taken aback by the violence of Ed's orders, he's horrified to realize that the French captain's words hurt Ed so badly that this is a proportional response.

Stede doesn't give a fuck about the French captain, by the way. He doesn't lift a finger to prevent it, not because he's afraid, I'd argue, but because he legitimately does not care. The dude is more than a little bit of a sociopath himself, alright, he's adjusting to pirate life but he has also fully embraced pirate life.

And by the way, you don't have to take my word for it that Stede's reaction of horror is for Ed not at Ed, y'know why?

'Cuz of what Stede says in the very next scene, "Edward, are you alright? I could tell that captain got a bit under your skin."

(Haha, get it? Because you skinned that man alive. But I digress.)

No but seriously, Stede does not care about skinning that man alive, whether or not we believe Fang really did it. His priority #1 here, as it will be in Season 2, writ large, is to first make sure Ed is ok and then to help arm him against pain like that in the future.

And all I'm saying is, I bet if we went through each and every other instance of Stede "reacting badly" to Ed's "violence" in light of S2 and Stede getting Ed and only really caring about Ed unless reminded to do otherwise, that all of those reactions are actually Stede reacting with horror to learning what kind of pain Ed has been laboring under, or what kind of pain he's in that he would react with violence to verbal attacks like that.

Because that is something Stede can understand very well.

#I MEANT THIS ONE TO BE SHORT I'M SORRY I'M BAD AT THIS LOL #ofmd meta #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death

743 notes · View notes

enbycrip · 17 days

Text

The Cass Report demonstrates a truly ridiculous ignorance of literally *anything* to do with not only trans lives, but basic medical treatment protocols.

You *cannot* do double-blind tests where an intervention very clearly has distinct observable effects. Medicine also frequently does not do double-blind tests when doing so would be a) basically impossible, and b) inhumane. It’s particularly common to measure efficacy of an intervention by follow-up and statistical analysis where children and young people are concerned because experimenting on kids is so fucking unethical.

The report is treating reports following established medical protocols as though they are some kind of pseudoscience. Literally the only reasons for this are either a) an ignorance of basic medical and research procedures so profound as to show an utter unsuitability to be involved in reporting on anything to do with healthcare or b) blatant disingenuousness to find an excuse to discard the results they don’t want to acknowledge. Which also renders them deeply unsuitable to report on anything to do with healthcare.

They have used to existence of nonbinary people as an excuse to deny under-25s transition care, treating our entire identity as some sort of adolescent identity crisis. As a 40-year old nonbinary person, I can only say how *utterly* this betrays a profound ignorance of trans culture and identity and/or a commitment to patriarchal and colonial gender norms so profound they are utterly unwilling to dive into the easily-available evidence of adults all over the world with nonbibary identities today, and the anthropological and historical evidence of cultures all over the world with an understanding of gender outside the binary.

And the recommendation that transition should be forbidden to people with mental illness or neurodivergence only betrays how deeply and profoundly transphobia is entwined with disableism. There is a line which literally says “transition did not affect manifestation of symptoms of autism spectrum disorder”. As if this was remotely relevant to anything other than pathologising both transness and neurodivergence.

It of course also attempts to ignore the reality that millions of British adults are seeking neurodivergence diagnoses through the NHS and being turned down or stuck on waiting lists that can easily be *seven* years long.

I am sick with fury and fear, and trying to mute my own reactions because I have a dissertation draft due in tomorrow I *need* to work on.

#cass report #transphobia #institutional transphobia #disableism #ableism #profound and probably wilful ignorance of basic medical testing protocols #terf island #autistic adult

333 notes · View notes

jessicalprice · 7 months

Text

So I've spent a lot of time untangling Christian exegesis of parables and talking about how the way Christians interpret parables almost always ends up being antisemitic.

But aside from how it makes them think about Jews and Judaism and Jewishness, I also want to talk a bit about how it makes them sympathize more with abusers than with victims.

The easy-to-point-to culprit here is the trilogy of parables that culminates in what most Christians know as the Prodigal Son story.

The common interpretation of these parables is that God does (and therefore Christians should) value a repentant sinner over someone who's never sinned.

The problem here isn't the stories themselves--they're pretty enigmatic as far as their actual meanings--but Luke's gloss:

"Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance."

(Mark says, "So it is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost," which is very different.

So on its face, in 2023, that's a blatantly dangerous, abuser-supporting belief. What is it like to be a child sexually abused by your youth pastor and to hear that the fact that he hurt you is part of what makes him somehow spiritually "better" than you?

And we can see it play out in the way Kevin M. Young, a popular progressive pastor on Twitter (who describes himself as "post-evangelical" and was the senior pastor at a Quaker congregation) responded to being told one of his tweets was antisemitic, and then jumped in to support a woman who responded by identifying herself as a fan of John Chrysostom (the literal author of "Against the Jews" and the most antisemitic of the Church Fathers, which is saying something).

I'm not going to transcribe the whole thing, because it's not all that important for what I have to say about this, but I am going to call out a few lines:

"The American Christian approach to t'shuvah sees the victim's spirit, character, and speech as equally important to the offenders. I.e. in Christendom, the victim can exceed the sin of the offender simply by their reaction (if it be in sin or acted in a way that is not Spirit led)."

So, to be clear, if someone assaults you, and you don't meekly forgive them in a "Spirit led" way, you're somehow worse than they are.

The uniquely Christian brain rot here is in seeing every sin as an opportunity for forgiveness. After all, if being a repentant sinner gives you a higher spiritual status--if there's more "rejoicing in Heaven" over you--than that of your victim, then you have to sin to get there. It treats other people as props in your salvation journey, not as fellow humans whose suffering matters. (Combine that with the Christian idea that suffering is somehow virtuous in and of itself, and you've got a very toxic recipe. Not only, by abusing others, are you guaranteeing your own value as a repentant sinner, but you're giving your victim the opportunity to ennoble themselves through suffering.)

Of course, a key word here is repentant. Put a pin in that.

These sort of exchanges on Twitter--a Christian being outright genocidal toward Jews, and a supposedly progressive Christian figure jumping in to defend the Christian, with seemingly no ability to comprehend that the Jews in the conversation are human beings who may have their own trauma around violently antisemitic language, with boundless empathy for the Christian abuser and none for the Jewish targets of their abuse--happen frequently and just as frequently leave Jwitter baffled in addition to angry.

Why all this empathy for the abuser and none for the victims?

I think a lot of this comes out of progressive Christian exegesis of parables, which is frequently looking for the radical "twist" to the story.

E.g. in the story of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector, the assumption is that the audience of the time would have empathized with the Pharisee, and thus the twist is to make them empathize with the tax collector. In the story of the Good Samaritan, the assumption is that they would have seen the Samaritan as a threat, and the twist is to make him the hero.

The thinking goes that the audience would have had empathy for certain groups and none for others, so the stories push them to feel that empathy for the latter, and that this was needed to balance the scales, to make sure everyone was receiving love and empathy and care.

Except that this, in modernity, has the effect of simply reversing the roles, not balancing them. The groups that are assumed to be in good social standing get no empathy, even become the implicit villains, and the groups (supposedly, since this is now a Christian-dominant society) traditionally looked down on get all of it.

That might still be a balancing act if the "looked down on" groups were actually marginalized. But in the Christian imagination, that role is filled by sinners in need of Christian grace, not necessarily demographically marginalized groups.

The idea seems to be that the victims are getting sympathy from elsewhere, so it's the Christian's job to make sure the abuser/sinner gets sympathy too.

But I'll point again to that pesky word "repentant."

Ultimately, when it comes to treatment of Jews and Muslims and anyone else who points out that a Christian has in some way harmed them, Christian sympathy goes immediately to the offender before the offender has even expressed any repentance.

The repentant sinner is so much more valuable, at this point, than their victims that they must be preemptively forgiven, that they are more valuable purely because they now have the potential to repent.

And this seems to be lurking under not just how "progressive" pastors act on Twitter, but in a lot of our cultural narratives around, say, college rapists and their futures, around white people who are publicly called out for racist acts, etc.

#jumblr #tshuvah #christian forgiveness culture

730 notes · View notes

sashayed · 8 months

Note

have you heard that jordan peele said steven yeun's character is the one that has the most in common with him. have you thought about how most of his cinematic career has been built around discussions of race and the traumas that come from racism. have you thought about how any media handling real and personal topics is a sort of emotional self-disembowelment on the part of the creator. have you thought of the glory and horror of being Seen. have you screamed

Have I? HAVE i. Have I thought about how Peele has discussed being objectified and tokenized on set, especially early in his career? Have I thought about what it's like to suffer real-life trauma in a space created for make-believe? Buddy, I haven't thought about anything else for days!!

I think one thing that makes this movie so visceral to me is that it's an exploration by a great popular artist on the human cost of making popular art. The link between the auteur and the cult leader--both are people consumed & defined by stories, people who are compelled by a narrative and feel an urge to spread that narrative to an audience.

And I am really impressed by how hard Peele seems to work to reject the cult leader in himself as best he can -- to make art that enriches the lives of ALL THE PEOPLE WHO MAKE IT. Every interview is about how collaborative and present he is as a director. Obsessed with this Q&A for many reasons but this moment sticks with me:

KEKE PALMER: There would be moments where we’re going through different parts of this script, this story, from when we first rehearsed to when we were actually on set, or when we had an idea that happened that morning. I would be listening, my head would be down, I’d be listening to what Jordan’s saying, I’m like, man this is deep. And I look up and there’d be just this one little tear falling. Man, this brother’s deep. JORDAN PEELE: I’m not afraid to cry as a director. KP: And he’s chill! He’d be like, “That’s what happens” and tears are falling. I’m like, “Are you all right?” But he keeps going and he’s like “Yeah, yeah. So that’s the thing.” And then he just walks out.

To me, that reads as a person who is NOT JUST super smart and deep and creative etc but who is also aware every moment of how lucky he is to be doing what he's doing, and who is not ashamed of his own reaction to that gratitude. What's to be ashamed of? It's incredibly fun! He is having an amazing time! He's hanging out with people he likes and respects and coating actors with goop in the esophageal tube! What a job!

I wonder if, to be that thankful and that aware (and that collaborative), you have to have experienced the flip side; if you have to have been Jupe, at least for a little while. I wonder if the process of -- to some extent -- commodifying your own suffering (as capitalism practically demands that artists do in order to survive as artists) leads, almost inevitably, to a moment where you think, "I survived this horror and became a Star because I am the main character of reality: I am more special than other people, I have a special ability to communicate, I have a special destiny." That is a powerful story and a seductive one, but if you don't leave it behind, it will eat you and the people around you alive.

It seems to me like an extension of what Peele is exploring in Us--the notion that your contentment is entangled with someone else's suffering. Why you? Why not the person with all your qualities who for whatever reason never ended up where you are? Especially for creators with marginalized identities, right? "Am I occupying a space that should belong to someone else?" You can avoid that question by deciding that you have special individual qualities that make you the Chosen One, as Jupe does. Or you can accept that the question will always haunt you, that luck (LUCKY THE FINAL HORSE??) has no logic, and you try to spread your luck out and open your space up to as many other people as you can. Which you see Peele doing all the time! Gah!!

#NOPE 2022 #nope spoilers #art monsters!!

781 notes · View notes

obey-me-disaster · 1 year

Text

MC running away(and failing) after the demon brothers call them cute

A/N: Sometimes I think about the time I ran away out of instinct when a girl called me cute...I nearly tripped over a chair too. I would be a total mess in Devildom...

Lucifer

All he did was to call you cute after you made some coffee for him and you ran away. You managed to run into the door too before you opened it.

He gave you some time to calm down before before going to ask why you ran away. He was worried about having made you uncomofortable with his comment more than anything.

When you tell him it was just out of reflex cause you don't know how to react when people flirt with you he took a minute to process things. He was expecting anything but that.

Now that he knows you aren't uncomfortable with him calling you that, expect to be teased by him whenever you two are alone.

On one hand is to get you used to it, on the other hand is because he finds your reaction cute.

Mammon

He called you cute without realizing. You two were hanging out in his room and he was thinking how it would sound but unfortunately for him, he said it a bit too loud.

When he saw you start running his heart broke a little, but it was quickly forgotten when you tripped over some noodle cup on the floor.

After he made sure you were fine he went into full tsundure mode, going between not meaning it to 'Ya should be grateful the Great Mammon called you that'

You had to explain that you just panicked since you don't know how to handle people flirting with you. He honestly felt really stupid for his reaction after that. This shit will keep him up at night.

Leviathan

It was one of the few times where you were ranting about something you liked and not him while sitting in his bathtub. This whole scenario reminded so much of one of his favourite romance manga that he didn't realize he called you cute.

He only realize what he did when you suddenly stopped talking and your mind seemed to be all over the place.

He was about to start apologizing and take everything back when you try to run out of the room. Too bad you lost your footing while trying to get out of his bathtub of a bed and fell face first on the floor. At least that made him stop apologizing.

Literally efused to believe at first that you were not used to being flirted with. You were his Henry, how were normies blind enough to not notice you?? At least he took it as an opportunity to say that you two had one more thing in common

Satan

You two were cuddling in his room while he was reading a book outloud so you could hear it too. The whole atmosphere was so relaxing that you were begging to fall asleep while curled up to him.

Seeing how adorable you looked he was quick to tell you so giving you a kiss on the forehead. It took a few seconds for the words to register in your mind, but when they did you fell out of his bed and nearly brought one of his bookshelves down with you. to your defense his room is absolutely messy, one wrong move and you are burried in books

Despite the fact that he stopped the shelf from even coming close to you by using his magic he was still worried by your reaction.

To both his surpirse and amusement you turned out to just not be used to being called anything like that. Don't worry, he will keept that information in mind. Not for the best reasons, but at least he won't forget it.

Asmodeus

He discovered that being cute makes you run away out of instinct pretty early on. He really couldn't fanthom why more people didn't do that in the past, so he took it upon himself to compliment you and flirt with you to the moon and back

It took him a while to get you used to his compliments but it was all so worth it when you genuinely start to get more comfortable with being called all sorts of nice things.

The first time you didn't seem to get flustered by him calling you cute(or at least not flustered enough to run away and trip over something) he tackled you into a hug. You still ended up on the floor but at least it was not from running away.

He was so happy that he started to tell all of his brothers about it and try to convince them to flirt with you more. God bless Asmo or I guess not but he will put into an early grave at that rate

Beelzebub

It was after you offered to cook something that he called you cute. He was so happy that he was about to eat something made by his favourite person that the word just slipped out.

You tried to put the finished dish aside and and quickly make your retreat only to run face first into Beel's chest. Apparently he was standing way closer than you would have expected.

To make matters worse, he took your failed attempt at running as you wanting to give him a hug. Your only saving grace was the fact that he was beyond hungry so he didn't pay too much attention at the fact that you were flustered.

When you finally manage to exit the kitchen so you could go calm down your poor heart Beel was a bit disappointed that you didn't stay more it takes asmo or belphie to explain the whole thing when you run again anothef time

Belphegor

He is a little shit. He saw how you react when others call you cute and decided to use that knowledge to torment you.

You two could be cuddling or simply staying right next to one another when you feel his arms going around your waist. Thinking he only wants to use you as a pillow you don't move away from his touch.

Only when he starts teasing you and calling you cute do you realize it's all been a trap. You can't run away since he has an iron grip on you. the attic incident 2.0

Good luck at making him stop tormenting you. He adores too much how flustered you get to stop. You have better chanced at making him fall asleep than actually stop

2K notes · View notes

lulureadsandwrites · 1 month

Note

Hmmm.... How would Alastor realize he has begun to feel a sort of... affection for a reader? (Basically he's developing feelings and he realizes it).

hii this is my first work for alastor so forgive me if it's a little ooc and if you guys have any tips or requests, please let me know :))

Alastor Falling For the Reader

pairing; alastor x (gender not specified) reader warning; ooc alastor (probably), a little bit of angst if you squint, cannabalism (its alastor what do you expect), blood, no dialogue (is that a warning?) perspective; 2nd person, in the eyes of alastor though if that makes sense?

so you first joined the hotel because of charlie

you weren't a parent per se to charlie, but you stepped up after lilith left to god knows where

(literally, god knows.)

and when lucifer was quite neglectful

so after getting you settled into your own room charlie wanted to introduce you to everyone

she had called a meeting to everyone in the main parlour

the reason alastor was so interested at you at first wasn't your kindness, or charisma, or even your charming smile

as much as he thought it was nice

it was your colour pallet

yes, as weird as it was, you were the only one in the hotel with blues and purples in your hair, outfit and makeup.

since the vision spectrum of a deer was limited to cooler colours and hell was filled with reds, blacks, and pinks it was refreshing for him to see something other than black and white

after a deft introduction from himself and quite a sloppy one from the others should he add, you all were spread around the bar drinking your respected drinks

and after a solid and quite warm welcome, you headed to your room and off to bed

the reason you and alastor grew close was because of your shared love of jazz music

there was no one else in the hotel who enjoyed the genre so it made you a bit more tolerable to him

as the weeks turned into months, you had grown close with most of the original people in the hotel

though, you couldn't find yourself getting close with angel

nothing against him of course, it was just hard to find common interest with him

personally, i don't see alastor falling easily, so it would take a lot, and i mean A LOT so idk what you did but congratulations

as yours and alastors platonic relationship grew, so did the want to be even closer with you

he was very up in your personal space and you couldn't say that you didn't like it

when he realised he wanted a romantic relationship with you he short circuited

let me expand, you two were enjoying dinner in one of the dinning rooms that had come with building up the new hotel

alastor was enjoying his weekly venison heart and you were indulging in some red wine and VERY MUCH COOKED deer

you had told him something about texture issues but he wasn't really paying attention to the words that came out of your mouth

he was more so just watching the way you slightly smiled while talking to him

anyways, as you had finished your meals, you had realised alastor had some blood dribbling from his mouth

you had tried to get him to wipe it off but he couldn't quite get it

so you had walked up in front of him and wiped it off with your thumb

not just that you had licked your thumb clean

in a twisted way, that was just really attractive to him

as soon as he realised his attraction to you he had to quickly excuse himself

after these newfound emotions that he had registered as love he ignored you

yeah, probably not the best move on his end but to be fair, he had never fallen in love before so that was his immediate reaction

he saw his affection for you as a weakness

you tried to talk to him?

oh apologies he has that thing he has to do since he's an overlord

and it was frustrating you, a lot

after a full week of him ignoring you, he decided to get advice from the best person he knew

rosie

when rosie had told him off for ignoring you, he knew he fucked up

not sure why that's would it took

she had told him that love shouldn't be seen as a weakness but a tool that he could utilise to make himself stronger too

basically out for love but in rosie's style lol

so when he came back to the hotel, he went to your room and knocked on the door

you had reluctantly let him in to explain himself

and while he didn't outrightly admit his feelings for you, it was pretty obvious

after a kiss on your hand, and a very long spiel of how sorry he was, (bro is down BAD i swear) you had forgiven him

now the next hurdle was trying to bring himself to ask if he could court you.

AHH FIRST HAZBIN HOTEL POST!!! PLEASE LEAVE MORE REQUESTS I LOVE THEM <3333

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #charlie morningstar #hazbin alastor #fanfic #x reader #headcanons #hcs #ooc alastor #alastor hartfelt #the radio demon x reader

176 notes · View notes

hotchfiles · 1 month

Text

↪ kate joyner and hotch were fucking in the period of her appearance, an essay

it's sunday and i have no social life and i think way harder about hotch than a normal sane person should but. since getting into criminal minds there has been The Question (and it wasn't just me! i've seen other people talk about it): did hotch cheat on haley while liaising with kate when she was in scotland yard? i always doubted that because he's not a cheater (but he is A man...), so today i bring you my updated theory: they were in the starts of a relationship before she died. i'm not without evidence. so let's go!

3x20

kate calls hotch on his personal phone, late at night

he speaks to her very casually for someone who doesn't talk on a regular basis and only know each other from a past assignment

jj's reaction shows it isn't common for hotch to go above jj when choosing cases

again, very casually speaking of her, calling her kate only

the apparent common knowledge is that she's a brit but

hotch not only knows she has a dual citizenship, but also which parent is british and which one is american

AND MY FAVORITES

IT ONLY GETS BETTER FROM HERE ALRIGHT

LETS GO

why say that if not to imply hotch has interest in her because she looks like his ex wife who he recently divorced (not willingly !)

AGAIN WITH THE FIRST NAMES! she doesnt call him hotch ONCE. its aaron, from the start. and HIS SMILE. LOOK AT THIS FUCKER'S FACE

garcia's reaction to the informality

now why would emily use this tone if it was to imply hotch is a CHEATER???

no thats the "oh they ARE fucking" tone

this is sort of a reach because hotch worries about everyone he works with but STILL, going from "i know her because we liaised" to this--i rest my case

then this, i didnt think too much of it because hotch can be a bit of an ass with protocol and hierarchy whateverrrr BUT

emily was sooo uncomfortable which shows in fact that wasnt normal behavior

WHY SAY THAT IF THE TWO OF THEM WERENT OBVIOUSLY FUCKING !!!!

is that it? obviously not, i am in fact INSANE so

4x1

THE FLIRTY EYES AND SMILES

AGAIN. HE DOESNT CALL HER JOYNER. NOT EVEN ONCE. KATE. AT ALL TIMES.

THIS WOMAN IS DYING AND LOOK AT THE WAY SHES SMILING AT HIM AFTER SAYING SHES NOT IN PAIN very allison dying in the arms of her first love coded

another detail i like to point out is that aaron is completely capable of walking rn, he could easily walk over to the end of the street to talk to one of the officers there but he just wouldnt, couldnt, leave her alone.

he knows the first responders wont get near them yet, he keeps BEGGING that someone does

and now for my final argument

the way he holds her hand by the ending before putting it back in place

NOW I REST MY CASE

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #lari is kind of insane

159 notes · View notes

swordcreature · 5 months

Note

Rolan deserves to get pegged. Someone needs to come fuck the brat out of him.

i will take this sacrifice for us all. i will fuck the brat completely out of Rolan. you are all welcome!

but in all seriousness. i had so much fun writing this. i know this wasn't a request per se but 3,000 words later and here we are. our boy just really needed someone to fuck him with the magical strap (that we are all going to pretend is a very real thing that exists in his world. along with the magical bottle of oil/lube).

it doesn't really work anyway

i couldn't think what to name this monster so excuse the stupid title, it fits into like on tiny part but it made me laugh so. yeah.

Now I Know My ABCs

Rolan x Reader

“You could have just fixed it, you know? You don’t have to be an insufferable prick about every little mistake you notice.” “Maybe if you didn’t make so many mistakes, I wouldn’t have anything to comment on.”

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content MDNI/18+, Pegging, Anal Fingering

Word Count: 3,028 | [Read on AO3]

Okay, so, in hindsight, calling Rolan “the biggest fucking brat to ever grace the mortal realm” probably wasn’t your finest move. But gods if it wasn’t completely fucking accurate.

All day he was wondering around the tower, nit picking the work you so graciously volunteered as you both tried to organize the mess Lorroakan left behind after his completely deserved demise.

“Oh, this is interesting come look at this,” Rolan ushered you over to the shelf you had been working on before lunch. You walked over, brow furrowed as you looked at the tomes he pointed to: a copy of Illusionary Arcana: A Complete Study and Illusion: A Spellcaster’s Guide to the Unreal. “I had no idea the Common language had changed recently, did you?”

“Here we fucking go.”

“Surely that must have been the case, otherwise this book would have been placed before Illusionary Arcana, yes?” You wanted to smack the disingenuous look of confusion off his smug face.

“You could have just fixed it, you know? You don’t have to be an insufferable prick about every little mistake you notice.” You flipped the position of the books.

“Maybe if you didn’t make so many mistakes, I wouldn’t have anything to comment on,” he offered back, facing the books with a matter-of-fact expression as though they were discussing breakfast plans or the weather.

“Maybe, you should find someone else who is willing to put up with your contemptible drivel so-”

“I’m surprised someone who does not know their alphabet knows what contemptible means.”

Your hands balled into fists at your sides and your nostrils flared. You were doing this for free. It would be a cold day in the Hells before you continued to let him talk to you like that.

Without saying a word, you turned scanning the room for where you laid your things. This caught Rolan’s attention; he eyed you over his shoulder as he continued to fiddle with the row of books.

“What are you doing?” he asked, unphased.

“Leaving.” This at least elicited some sort of reaction, his head whipping around to watch you grab your things.

“Why? You said you would assist me. And we still have two more cases to go today if we are to remain on track.” His face scrunched in frustration. He couldn’t honestly expect you to just continue on as though he hadn’t just acted like a complete son of a bitch, right?

“Are you serious- ‘Why?’ Because Rolan, today you have been-” well, you know what came next. He didn’t take it lightly.

“I- you- you insolent little witch! I’d rather be a brat than being a classless degenerate like you!” He took an angry step towards you.

“Classless? You arrogant, pretentious arsehole!”

“Indolent, mindless fool!” Then another.

“Hateful wretch!”

“Talentless hack!” He was so close now that you could feel his breath on your face as he stared down the length of his nose at you. It was a shame he was such a knob head, because he was so nice to look at, even from this angle.

“You-” you paused, trying to think of the most poetic way to tell him that he could take every book in his big fancy tower and shove it right up his ass.

But something else came to mind.

With a scowl, you sank your hands into the front of his robes and yanked him downward, forcing his lips against your own. Much to your surprise, and delight if you wanted to be completely honest, he relented, allowing himself to be kissed with an almost bruising intensity.

You tore your lips away. The look on Rolan’s face at the loss of contact would have made you laugh if you weren’t so fucking fed up with him. His chest was heaving as though he had just ran a mile around the tower, and the way your stomach twisted at the sight made you even more frustrated. Stupid wizard with his handsome face and pretty lips.

You pushed him back against the nearest bookcase, hard enough that a book tumbled from its home high above you. Rolan’s eyes were fire and hunger as he glared at you, silently urging you to continue what you started. You pressed yourself flush to his chest, noses touching, lips barely a hair apart.

He craned his neck lower to try and catch you in a kiss, but you were quicker, fueled by an intense need to see this man squirm.

“Now now, Rolan. Where are your manners?” You chastised with a click of your tongue. “Say please.”

He swallowed thickly and grit his teeth. The room fell silent as seconds ticked by, Rolan seemingly weighing his words.

Just as you thought he was going to end whatever this was, too proud to continue, he muttered out, almost unintelligibly, “Please.”

You smiled sweetly, and then you were slotting your mouth over his, kissing with as much force as before. Your hand snaked into his hair, dragging your nails roughly against his scalp, tugging at the roots. The sound he made in response was nothing short of a growl. Oh did it spur you on.

Your free hand squeezed between your bodies to palm over the erection pinned against his thigh. Even under his robes and trousers you could tell he was hot, long, and so very hard. You pet his cock with a firm touch through several layers of clothes, Rolan forcing his hips forward in response.

After a few tentative strokes, you removed your hand completely – pulling yourself backwards slightly so that he had nothing to grind himself against. He whined in frustration.

“Mmm, I don’t think you deserve that yet, do you?” You pressed your lips to his ear, your tongue slipping out to follow the outer shell. Rolan shivered. “You’ve been a little brat today, Rolan. I don’t think you deserve to be touched yet.”

For the first time since you met him, Rolan had nothing to say. His head hung low, almost hitting your shoulder as he clenched his jaw.

“You think you’re so clever, with that sharp tongue. But I'm going to make you forget how to speak, pretty little wizard.” His breath hitched, stopped dead in his throat. “Only if you’re good, though. Okay?” Rolan nodded eagerly, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “Okay. Now, go be a dear and take your clothes off for me, hmm?”

Rolan fumbled forward as you stepped away from the bookcase. His hands shook as he undressed, clumsily unlacing his trousers to slide them off, along with his underclothes. You walked over to sit on the edge of his desk and watched as he pulled his robes from his shoulders. He murmured something to himself that you couldn’t quite discern, but you didn’t care enough to push. Because with everything discarded to the floor, Rolan stood completely bare, cock jutting upwards from a dark swatch of hair on his groin. It was already leaking with excitement.

He looked up to find you staring, leering at his lithe form in appreciation. It must have been written on your face because the bastard’s lips quirked up in a smug grin. That wouldn’t do. You needed to wipe that smirk off of his face.

You hopped off the desk’s edge and pointed towards it. Rolan eyed you with suspicion but acquiesced, moving so that he stood between you and it. Raising a hand to your mouth, you spit into your palm, eyes fixed on his. Your hand found his erection, spreading your saliva down his length in one motion.

Rolan’s chest heaved with a moan, thrusting into your hand for more. He knew as soon as it happened that he had made a mistake; you removed your hand from him and gave him a pointed look.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I’ll be still, I promise.”

You had to bite back a smile as how desperate he sounded from just a few touches. But an apology did sound good on his lips. So, you began stroking him again, fisting over his shaft with a tight grip. Rolan’s thighs shook with the exertion needed to keep himself still and little whimpers left his mouth with every pass of your hand.

And then you stop, completely removing your hand from him. Before he could even make a sound in protest, though, you grabbed his hips and spun him in place so that his rear was pressed to your front. One hand smoothed its way up his spine, settling between his shoulder blades. And with a firm shove, you urged him to bend so that his chest lay on the cool wood of the desk.

Your free hand circled his ass, caressing the smooth, plump skin. A sharp thwack echoed through the room as your hand lifted and then connected with his rear. Rolan yelped, jolting forward slightly, but didn’t complain – in fact you were almost positive his hips canted against the desk in a desperate grind for friction. You repeated the action again, bringing your hand down to smack him with enough force to leave a darkened handprint. Rolan’s moan was high pitched and needy as he braced himself for another smack that didn’t come.

Both hands now groped at his cheeks spreading him so that you could see all of him – every last inch of his red skin heated in desire as he keened below you. Leaning forward, you reached around to press two fingers to his lips and Rolan accepted them greedily. His hot tongue laved over your digits, coating them in his saliva. You pulled them out with a pop to tease at his hole, the wetness of his spit making him slick enough to dip a finger in to the second knuckle.

Gods he looked so good taking you, back arched to offer himself more fully, desperate whines slipping from his lips. You worked your finger in and out as he rocked his hips against the desk. For a moment you thought about stopping – chastising him for seeking his pleasure without your permission. But you most certainly did not have the willpower to do so as you watched him take your finger down to the last knuckle. You were only mortal after all.

“Think you can take another?” you asked, tone sultry and low, though your question was sincere; you wanted to make sure you weren’t overstepping. He responded with an eager, shaky nod and a soft gasp.

Mumbling a spell under your breath, a small vial of oil appeared in your palm out of thin air. You uncorked it with your teeth and, with a very disappointed whine from Rolan, removed yourself from inside him to slather some of the liquid over your fingers.

The noise he made when you returned them to prod at his hole was nothing short of debauched – for a moment you thought he may cum right there. But he took the added stretch in stride, panting as you began to set a rhythm.

You were satisfied with your work, the man beneath you squirming and gasping and not saying a godsdamned word.

That is, until he turned his head to the side, peering at you from the corner of his eye to beg, “More.”

That wouldn’t do. He was still able to form a coherent thought and that just wasn’t going to work for you.

You slipped both fingers from his ass in one quick motion. Rolan, although quivering and breathless, looked as though he was going to object, to say something that surely would make your blood pressure rise. Your free hand tangled into his hair to force his head back down to the desk.

“Not a word, or else I’ll leave right now,” you hissed. You had never seen Rolan behave so easily, relaxing back against the wood as he waited for you to make the next move.

Another muted spell left your lips, the room slightly tinged with the crackle of your magic. The summoned object was heavier than you anticipated, but oh did that make it even more exciting. Commanding Rolan to keep his head down, you stepped into the harness of the conjured strap-on and pulled it up to fasten around your groin snuggly. You spilled the rest of the oil bottle over the thick base of the strap and spread it around with a loose fist.

Rolan wiggled with impatience, still obeying your orders to keep down and not look. So, without further delay, you notched the tip against him then slid the length over his entrance. His body tensed with understanding as he rocked against you ardently, his tail wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

You teased his rim with the head of your strap, providing just enough pressure to have him writhing for more but not enough to actually enter him. He groaned in frustration as he tried desperately to force himself back to satisfy his need for more.

“Oh? Is this what you want? You want me to fuck you Master Rolan?” His moan was high and keen – more pathetic than you had ever heard him before. It was music to your ears. “I didn’t hear you. What did you say?” The tip of your strap pushed into him ever so slightly more, enough to spread his entrance in preparation. Dangerously close to where he wanted you most but still so very far away.

“Mmf- ye- ah- yes!” It seemed forming words was proving to be especially difficult for the erudite wizard. Perfect.

And then you gave in; your hands gripped his hips as you slid the thick length of the strap into him slowly. Rolan’s head hung low, forehead pressed to the cool wood of the desk. He sighed in relief, finally feeling the fullness he craved.

With an iron grip, you held his hips still, slowly pulling out of him. Then, without warning, you thrusted forward to sheath the strap’s entire length inside him with perhaps maybe a touch too much vigor. Rolan jolted forward by the force of it, gasping as he adjusted. You repeated the movement again. And again. And again.

Soon, you had set a punishing pace, clothed hips smacking the back of his bare thighs as you drove as deep as he could take you. Every thrust had Rolan whimpering, words dying on his tongue before they were fully formed. It didn’t take long to find that perfect spot that had him stuffing his fist in his mouth to muffle his shouts. Oh you liked that spot.

You weren’t gentle, overcome by an intense need to fuck him until every bratty thought was emptied from his mind through his cock. You raised your hand to roughly slap his ass where your handprint had formed from before. Rolan cried out as the pleasure of you inside him mixed with the pain from your hand.

“I’m- ah. So-” Every syllable was cut off by a garbled sound as though he couldn’t figure out if he wanted to scream or laugh or cry. The only thing he seemed to know was that he wanted more. “Fu- yes there right there-”

You stopped with the strap buried completely inside him. Rolan nearly screamed, the sudden lack of motion bringing tears to his eyes. He craned his neck to look at you; he was absolutely furious. You leaned over so that you could press your lips to his ear.

“Now. Did you want to say something about how you spoke to me earlier?” Your hips caged his, keeping him from seeking his own pleasure.

“Fuck y-” You began to pull out. “No no no, sorry- I'm sorry, I apologize. Whatever you want to hear I’ll say it.”

While you weren’t exactly pleased that he had the mental wherewithal to form a complete sentence, you certainly preened at his desperation. “Is that it?” You pulled out even further.

“Fuck! I was a stupid fucking brat, I’m sorry! Okay? Is that what you wanted? Will you please just-”

He didn’t get the chance to finish as you thrusted forward as quickly as possible, immediately establishing a pace faster than before. Rolan’s legs shook as though they were ready to give out and you thought for a moment they might if not for the desk under him.

It only took a couple deep thrusts against his most sensitive spot before he came. His orgasm was a rough avalanche of pleasure; his hips ground against the wood beneath him as his whole body seemed to tremble at the almost violent intensity of his release. You couldn’t quite understand what he was saying – or more like chanting – repeating the garbled word over and over again like he was trying to memorize the sound.

You realized with pride that it was your name, almost unrecognizable through the fist he still bit down on.

Your hand ghosted over the red mark on his ass – your own apology for perhaps being too rough. The conjured strap on disappeared as soon as you removed it from him, leaving behind the faint feeling of the Weave.

Hushed sounds from the shop below you started to filter into the room, and you realized that somewhere along the way Rolan had cast a modified form of silence. The cheeky bastard. You’d definitely remember that for next time.

It took him longer than he would ever admit to finally stand up, legs still unsteady and wobbly. Both the desk and his stomach were painted white with cum, and you had to admit, it was quite the sight. You brought a finger dangerously close to where his cock stood, still softening, and whisked a drop of his spend from his skin. Rolan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as you took the finger into your mouth to taste him.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke, “You truly are a degenerate.” Despite his words, he was smiling.

“And here I thought you were done being a brat?”

“Well, maybe perhaps your little lesson didn’t have the intended effect, hm?”

You eyed the mess on his desk with a smug smile. “Oh, I think it worked out just as intended.”

#bg3 #bg3 smut #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan x reader #my writing #requests/suggestions #lemonandhoneytea

240 notes · View notes

actuallysaiyan · 3 months

Text

I'm Right In Between(Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader x Ino Takuma)

warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol, power dynamics, male x male, teacher and student type relationships, oral sex(male receiving), snowballing/cum swapping, facials(not the spa kind) word count: 2.2k pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader x Ino Takuma summary: you and Ino want to help Kento relax, and you get the brightest idea...it's also the naughtiest idea! a/n: this is for the haters :) go fuck yourselves

You and Ino have always had a friendly rivalry. You both were recruited to Jujutsu Tech at the same time, and you both showed promise quickly. Another thing you both had in common was that you valued anything Nanami-sama had to say. You both valued him greatly, knowing that he had the best experience and life lessons to pass down to both of you.

Another thing…you and Ino were both crushing on one another. Ino would find it much too hard to confess to you, and your own crush on your senpai would lead you to try and push your feelings for Ino away. Despite this, everyone talks about how you two would make such a great couple.

One day, Nanami and Ino return from a mission that you weren’t called upon. You watch as the two men you were deeply enamored with return in such rough shape. It hurts you to see Nanami work so hard, and you feel terrible about Ino trying his best to really impress your senpai. So you sneak away to the cafe nearby and retrieve some goodies to help pep up the two men.

You find Ino and Nanami in one of the staff rooms, and you gently knock on the door. Nanami’s voice welcomes you in, and you open the door. Ino’s eyes light up when he sees you, and Nanami isn’t dumb to notice such a reaction from his protege.

“I brought some lunch,” you say with a sweet smile. You place the tray of drinks and the bag of food on the table.

Ino is the first to reach over, and he opens the bag. Kindly, he passes Nanami the sandwich you ordered specifically for him. You take your seat between them, your smile radiating so much warmth for them. You all eat while chatting lightly, Ino re-enacting the mission in a very animated way. But you notice how Nanami looks so tired. He’s barely able to keep up with Ino’s energy.

“Thank you for the food, I have to go fill out the reports.” Nanami says as he gets up. You want to tug on his sleeve and tell him to stay, but you know he probably wouldn’t.

Nanami leaves and it’s soon just you and Ino. Ino smiles at you in a lovesick sort of way, and you giggle softly. You’ve always found him so cute, even when you were growing up. Now that you’re both adults, it feels so different with him as well. It’s different because your feelings have evolved into something even more.

“Hey Ino,” you say as you take a sip of your tea. “You think there’s something we could do for senpai? He’s so stressed all the time.”

Your heart is racing as you try to plant the seeds to your risque idea. It’s going to be naughty for sure, but you want to really show your senpai that he can relax. He can count on both you and Ino for anything, even when it comes to personal matters.

“That’s a great idea, cutie! What do you think we could do?”

Ino’s pet name for you makes you blush, and your cheeks turn even brighter as you begin to think about how you’re going to propose this naughty idea. Ino chuckles softly before he leans in closer to you, resting his chin on his hands. He winks in a flirty way, making you look away.

“Awhh, come on…you can tell me.” Ino is being so flirty.

You shake your head, “Ah…I don’t know.”

Ino laughs softly again, then he reaches out to poke you on the cheek. Ino makes a comment about how cute you are when you’re all flustered. You blush even more, but Ino doesn’t give you the chance to look away. He cups your cheek and pulls you even closer.

“Tell me, please. I want to help Nanami-san relax.”

Finally, you just blurt it all out. You can’t even hold it back any longer. You know you shouldn’t be suggesting something this sexy, but it’s just such a good idea to have Nanami-sama calm down. You wonder if it’s been a long time since he’s had any kind of sexual pleasure anyway.

“Y-you wanna what?” Ino asks, a little bewildered by this idea. His cock twitches in his pants just thinking about it,

“I want to uh…give him a blowjob.”

Ino is now so red in the face when you finally say it out loud again. He was sure you had said something else, but hearing you repeat it makes his cock jump in his pants. This would be so thrilling for everyone involved. He’s a little worried Nanami wouldn’t agree to it.

“First we come in with a bottle of sake, you know something to help him loosen up.”You begin explaining it to Ino.

Ino laughs, “You wanna get him drunk?”

You shake your head and look away embarrassed, “Just a little buzzed..”

Ino decides to throw caution to the wind and he decides he’s on board with your plan. He’d be an idiot if he said he wasn’t sexually attracted to Nanami. And then he would get the chance to be sexually active with you as well, so Ino counts this as the sexiest thing that could ever happen in his life.

He decides to leave campus to find the bottle of sake, and you head into Nanami’s office to keep him company. You’ll be stalling him from leaving the office just yet. You know you’re going to need a little time to get Nanami loosened up where he won’t be mad at this plan. It’s not like he’d deny that it would be good for him, but he would be worried that he could be abusing his power over you and Ino.

You knock on his door, and your heart wrenches when you see the tired eyes of your mentor looking up at you. You can see just how relieved he is that it’s you and not someone else. Namely Gojo-sensei. You offer Nanami a soft smile and he beckons you inside his office. You approach the desk.

“What is it, sweetheart?” His voice makes you so weak in the knees.

“Just checking up on you. You left us pretty quickly earlier.”

Nanami frowns at your words. It was true, he was itching to get these reports filled out and sent to the higher ups so that he could potentially leave early today. He had worked very hard today with Ino at his side, so he’s just feeling quite tired.

“No need to worry about me. I’m fine,”

You know you should believe him when he says this, but it still hurts. You can see how tense he is. He probably hasn’t had anyone doting on him in so long. It makes you worry. You know for a fact he doesn’t have a girlfriend nor a wife thanks to the information that Gojo-sensei was more than happy to supply to you.

“Can I show my appreciation to my wonderful mentor?” You ask, your voice so saccharine right now.

Kento chuckles, “And what did you have in mind?”

You come behind him and begin rubbing his shoulders. Kento melts into your sweet touch. You smell really good too, making him lean back into the chair even more. He sees that sweet smile that makes most of the men here on campus swoon for you. He’s not alone in finding you so attractive, but Kento was sure that you and Ino were a couple.

At that moment,. Ino knocks on the door. Nanami looks at you and you nod your head. Ino comes in and presents the bottle of sake. Now Nanami was starting to think this was some sort of plan. He’s touched that his two proteges were so willing to help him relax.

“Nanami-sama! I brought us some sake. Shall we toast to our successful mission?” Ino asks, procuring some mugs from the coffee station in the teacher’s lounge.

Kento laughs again, “Just one toast. That’s it! We’re all still on the clock.”

But one toast turns into two, then three. By the fourth, Kento is feeling buzzed. He’s so buzzed he doesn’t notice that Ino has locked the door to his office. He barely realizes you getting on your knees. Once you begin unbuckling his belt, this is when Kento clues in.

“So this was your idea after all,” he surmises as you move forward with undressing him.

Ino smirks, “It was her idea. Isn’t she such a naughty little minx?”

You moan at the words of your partner. Then you begin unzipping Kento’s pants, wanting nothing more than to take his cock out. Ino is behind Kento now, rubbing his shoulders. You can’t help but be turned on when Ino and Kento share a kiss. You never thought this would be happening, but you are truly happy that your plan came to fruition.

“Woah…” you murmur the moment you pull Kento’s cock from the confines of his boxer briefs.

“Shit! You’re packing!” Ino makes this comment, making Kento smirk proudly.

Kento then reaches down to caress your cheek, and he rubs your lips with his thumb. You eagerly take it into your mouth, sucking on it to showcase just how good you’re about to make him feel when his cock slips between your plump lips. Ino watches in awe as you suck on your mentor’s thumb, his own cock growing in his pants.

You pull off the digit then you take Kento’s throbbing length in your hands. You slowly stroke him while keeping his gaze locked onto yours. Ino watches the two of you, growing a little envious of the situation. He then joins you on the ground, kneeling for his mentor as well.

The minute you wrap your lips around Kento’s cock, your mentor realizes he might never want to go without this treatment ever again. To have his two attractive subordinates treat him like this is just too much. He knew you two really loved him and admired him deeply, but he didn’t think it was to this degree.

“That’s a good girl,” Nanami praises you, placing a hand on the back of your head. He doesn’t push, just holds you.

Ino smirks, “She must be a good little cocksucker,”

Kento lets his head fall back in pleasure, his eyes fluttering closed as you begin to take even more of him into your mouth. You bob your head a few times before pulling off. Then he feels you shuffling aside and another mouth is on his cock. This makes him twitch as he feels Ino stroking him and wrapping his lips around him.

“Oh fuck…Ino…”

Ino’s heart flutters as he hears this praise. He’s never done this with another man, but he knows he’d do it for his mentor anyday. It’s so thrilling and erotic to be sucking Nanami’s cock. Ino isn’t nearly as good as this as you are, but he makes up for his lack of experience with lots of eagerness. Kento’s moaning and grunting as Ino begins to bob his head up and down a little more now.

“Good boy, Ino.” You praise your partner, pressing a soft kiss to his temple before pulling his hair out of his face.

Kento grunts. “Yes, he certainly is a good boy.”

Ino looks up through his lashes, the praise really getting to him. With renewed confidence, he begins to take even more of the girthy dick of his mentor into his mouth. The minute the tip of Kento’s cock hits the back of his throat, Ino has to pull off to breathe. He’s sputtering a little, trying to regain his bearings.

“My turn again,”

With that, you wrap your lips around Kento’s cock again. His fingers bury themselves into your hair, tugging ever so slightly to guide you into the perfect pace. You’re a lot more experienced with this, suctioning around his cock in the best way. He feels his balls drawing up as his orgasm gets closer.

“Whose mouth should I cum in?” Kento asks, a lustful look in his eyes.

“I’ve got an idea.”

You pull Ino closer, kissing him hungrily. Your mouths move together as your tongues rub together, then you look over at your mentor. Kento moves in closer, his cock rubbing against your tongue first then against Ino’s. You reach down to begin massaging Kento’s heavy balls, making the man above you moan even louder.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” He roars, the coil in his stomach tightening.

The first few spurts of cum hit your tongue and chin, then you pull Ino’s face a little closer and you watch as Kento gives Ino what you can only perceive as his first facial. Ino looks up at his mentor with so much love in his eyes, it just turns you on to see him like this.

You then cup Ino’s cheeks and pull him in for another kiss, this time you’re swapping spit and Kento’s cum. Kento watches as he tries to catch his breath, his heart still thumping wildly in his chest.

“Fuck…you two will wreck me.”

You giggle softly as you pull away from Ino. You then look up at your mentor and wink playfully.

“Not yet, old man. We haven’t even fucked yet!”

344 notes · View notes

leojurand · 3 months

Text

funny thing about me reading all of peter wimsey and adoring it: i don't like mysteries. and this series didn't change my mind! i still didn't care much about the crime-solving in these books. that's not why i read them. i decided to try the series despite the genre because i always saw sayers's name mentioned at the same time as dunnett's, so i had to at least try. and what kept me going was the great writing and peter himself.

sayers had a gift for writing witty dialogue. if i had to think of an author who's on the same level as her when it comes to that, i would struggle. and you kinda need to be a master at writing witty dialogue if you have a main character like peter winsey. peter!! i think, while reading the series and talking about it on twitter, my most common reaction: peter my best friend :). one of the most lovable and maybe the most delightful protagonist i've ever had the pleasure of reading about.

i didn't always feel 100% connected to him. one of the things i dislike about mystery fiction is that (in my opinion) it's very episodic and so there's no overarching plot, and the characterization doesn't really take center stage. ask me about one favourite peter moment from bellona club or nine tailors and i could not tell you.

but the thing about this series is, it does end up having a sort of overarching plot that sees it's main characters grow and change and kinda gets them out of the "mystery of the week" formula that i think can make characterization stagnant. and that's the harriet vane storyline.

i can't tell how much better harriet makes peter (and i don't need to tell you because if you've read it, you know). seeing peter from the outside, or from the inside but in this situation that changes his priorities so much, was so good. their banter, their chemistry, their misunderstanding, the way harriet perceives peter, from her repressed feelings to her protectiveness and unconditional love. all of it makes peter a much more compelling character. not to say he wasn't before, because i adored peter from book 2 onwards. but harriet always brought the best in him.

i could say a million things more, but tl;dr is sayers has become one of my all time favourite authors, i will never forget peter wimsey, and i'm both incredibly happy to have read this series and so sad that it's over. now what :')

#book stuff #lord peter wimsey #busman's honeymoon my beloved

137 notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 11 months

Text

iFall for Harry pt. 7

Summary: The seventh part to iFall for Harry

Letting the stranger in your phone go is a lot harder than you anticipated.

Surely a drunken phone call will help with that.

Word Count: 2k

What do you call an apology written in dots and dashes?

Remorse Code.

…

I’m gonna assume you’re laughing.

Like hysterical, uncontrollable laughter.

And while you attempt to keep from rolling on the floor…I want to say I’m sorry.

Again.

Because I am. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.

I know that was selfish. And sneaky. And I wasn’t trying to be. Not on purpose.

I just…I didn’t see any reason to change or ruin what we had.

And then we met. And I saw you. And everything and nothing made sense all at once.

And I thought I could explain.

I wanted to explain.

But I wasn’t sure how.

I guess I thought if we kept talking…the right answer would find me.

But it didn’t.

And then you left.

And I don’t know what to do.

I really don’t know what to do, Cheese Girl.

I miss you.

And I hope you talk to me soon.

You read every text as it comes in. You read, and you reread, and you try not to worsen the anxious pit deep in your stomach.

You didn’t expect this to be so hard.

You don’t want this to be so fucking hard.

You met him. You met the stranger in your phone and for the most part, it was civil.

You weren’t catfished. Hooray.

Not to mention, you met Harry Styles. Something that not everybody can say.

But you know better than to let it go any further than it already has. Because it can’t go any further. Your best option is to cut your losses and move on.

Leave this stranger behind.

Because that’s all he is. That’s all he’ll ever be.

A stranger.

You make peace with this thought and go about your life. You go to work, you go to yoga, you go to a bar with friends. You meet new people, and you try new recipes, and you start a new book.

You start a new chapter. Without him.

You try not to think about him. And for the most part, you don’t. He doesn’t reach out again and you assume he probably won’t ever.

And you’re okay with that.

And then…you’ll hear his name. A friend will mention an outfit he wore at a recent concert or about rumors he’s working on his next album.

And that anxious coil in your stomach will return.

A part of you is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. To find out that this was all some sort of sick prank. For the moment cameras will be shoved into your face to capture your reaction to the news that you’ve been part of a James Corden skit. Or that he’ll be singing about the pathetic girl that had the nerve to believe him when he can do so much better.

But the thing you’re most afraid of…is the way you miss talking to him. The way you’ll pull up his name on your phone and type out a message…only to delete it before you get the nerve to send it.

The way you wish…you could go back to that diner and do it again.

It haunts you, this thought. This regret. More than it should. It eats away at all the work you’ve put in to leaving him behind. It follows you all day. Into the shower, into work, into the grocery store.

And it leads you directly to a bottle of wine.

You’re halfway through your third glass when you get the idea. When all common sense takes a flying leap out the window. And before your better judgment can kick in…you’ve opened up his contact information.

The ringing is loud. Maybe too loud and you grimace as you pull the phone away from your ear. You might be a little too drunk for this.

And then…the ringing stops.

And it all goes quiet.

Until—

“Hello?”

His voice is exactly like you remember. British. And deep. And just a bit raspy.

Perhaps if it were any other moment, you’d be tempted to feel nervous or flushed, but right now…you simply straighten up.

“Hello,” you repeat in a no-nonsense tone of voice. “It’s me. Cheese Girl.”

You think you hear him laugh. “Yeah, I know,” he says before pausing. “…hi.”

“Hi,” you echo before frowning and clearing your throat. “I just wanted to call and say…fuck you.”

A beat before he sighs. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” You begin to pace around your apartment, hoping that the movement will help the words flow a bit faster. “Yeah, because you…you are a complete and total asshole. Did you know that?”

“…I did.”

“Good.” You nod. “And do you know why you’re a complete and total asshole?”

Another brief pause. “Because I lied to you.”

“Eh. Wrong.” You come to a stop. “Because you made me like you.”

Silence.

You carry on. “You made me like you…and then you took it away,” you tell him. “You made me like a complete and total stranger that I’d never met. That I knew nothing about. Just from some puns and your sexy-ass voice. You made me like you. Like…really like you. And then you just…you took it away.”

More silence before he finally murmurs, “Are you drunk?”

Your frown deepens. “No…yes. Maybe—look, that’s not the point. Everything I said is still true.”

He sighs. And it’s heavy. “I…shit, look I…I didn’t take it away. Okay, in fact the last thing I wanted was to end this, but you were the one who said we couldn’t continue.”

“Because we can’t,” you remind him. “Hello. You’re you. You’re so famous, you can’t even walk through the street without people flocking to you.”

“So?”

“So…there’s no room for me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know.”

“How?”

“Yeah. How do you know?”

“Because I just do,” you huff. “There’s only room for models, and famous people, and tours, and all the fucking money you’re probably making. But there’s no room for me.”

“I’d make room.”

The confident remark makes your head spin, and you blink down at the floor.

The call goes quiet for a good minute or two. You wonder if he’s still there, but something tells you…he is.

“You can’t…say stuff like that,” you finally whisper.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not fair. And it’s not true. You can’t possibly make a promise like that.”

“Says who?”

“Says…everyone.” You slump down onto the armrest of your sofa and stare at your lap. “And even if you could…you shouldn’t. You don’t even know me.”

“I want to.”

“You don’t,” you correct. “You don’t want to know me. I’m not…I’m just me. I’m not exactly worth getting to know.”

You hear him scoff. “Well…that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

Your eyes narrow. “It’s true. I can’t give you what they can.”

“They who?”

“You know. The other people in your life.”

“What people?”

“The…people. The models and the mommy’s you’re so obsessed with.”

He snorts again. “Okay, well, that doesn’t even close to cover my type.”

“Oh, no? Tell that to literally every ex you’ve ever had.”

“Those weren’t all of my ex’s.”

“Please. Like you managed to date somebody that the press didn’t know about.”

“I have. Many times, actually.”

“Name one.”

“Well, that kind of defeats the whole purpose of dating them privately, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But I’m not the press. And I’m not gonna tell.”

“Yeah? How do I know that?”

“Have I leaked anything yet?”

The call goes quiet again.

“No,” he admits after a minute. “And honestly...I was kind of disappointed when you didn’t.”

Your brows furrow. “What? Why?”

“Because it meant that you didn’t want anything from me,” he says softly. “It would have made sense if you’d just used this situation to…make some money or gain some publicity. It probably would have even been easier on me if that’s how it ended.”

You feel your heart sink.

“But…your silence meant that you didn’t care about that,” he continues. “It meant that I’d really hurt you. That this had been…real. That you’d rather cut me off altogether then make some sort of name for yourself.”

You swallow the odd lump in your throat as you slide down onto the couch cushions. “I never wanted to make money off of you.”

“I know,” he murmurs, somewhat sadly. “It just…would have been easier if you had.”

Your eyes flutter shut, and you will yourself to remain calm. “Harry?”

“…yeah?”

You suck in a quiet breath.

“I miss you.”

You hear him sigh before there’s a bit of static.

He doesn’t answer right away, and you wish more than anything that you knew what he was thinking.

“I miss you, too,” he finally says, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so dejected. “I really fucking miss you, and I’m so sorry that I ruined us.”

“You didn’t,” you whisper, in a voice so small, you’ll be surprised if he hears you. “You were always who you said you were. I know that. But…you and I don’t exist in the same universe. And I don’t think we ever can.”

“Why?” His question is both hopeful and forlorn. “Why not? I have tons of friendships and relationships the world never sees. This wouldn’t have to be any different—we wouldn’t have to be any different. We could still be us.”

Suddenly, your throat burns from the tears you know are coming. “Harry…”

“What? No, stop. We just…come on. We’ve…we’ve met one time. Okay, this is only the start. We still have so much to learn—”

“Harry—”

“No. No, stop…stop doing that. Stop deciding we can’t have a friendship. You haven’t even tried—”

“I can’t try. I can’t…I can’t do this again—”

“Do what? We haven’t even done anything—”

“I can’t lose you again.”

You hate how quiet he gets.

“It was really fucking hard to leave you,” you admit, and there’s a slight rasp to your voice as you fight back tears. “It was so hard to realize that everything I wanted for us was just…gone. That you were gone. That this…weirdly wonderful period of my life was just…over.”

He doesn’t speak yet and you know it’s because he’s waiting for you to finish.

“And if I…if I let myself do this again…and I lose you again…I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Then you won’t lose me,” he says, but your head shakes.

“You can’t promise that.”

A beat.

“I know,” he sighs before the sigh turns into a groan. “Fuck. I know, I…”

You wait, heart pounding.

You don’t know what you want him to say. You don’t know what he can say.

Maybe you just…wanted to hear his voice.

“Is this why you called me, then?” he asks. “Just to tell me you can’t talk to me?”

Yes. No.

I don’t know.

“I called because…letting you go isn’t easy for me,” you say. “Even though it should be. Even though I still don’t know you. Because…I feel like I do. I feel like I know you and I feel like when you’re gone…there’s something…missing. And it hurts. And I hate it.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I feel it, too.”

You both fall silent.

The sound of his soft breaths is comforting.

It’s a sound you imagine you’ll remember the rest of your life.

“Let’s make a deal,” you say, stomach already churning at the thought. “We’re good at those.”

He offers a gentle chuckle. “Okay.”

“We stay on the phone for as long as we want tonight,” you explain. “But once we hang up…it’s over. For good. No more texts. No more late-night drunken calls. No regrets. We delete, we block…and we move on.”

He thinks about this. “Is that really what you want?”

“No.” Your eyes squeeze shut. “But it’s the only way I’ll be able to let you go.”

You hate that you can feel his disappointment.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. “Okay. Then I’m right here. Until you’re ready.”

You clutch the phone to your ear as a single tear rolls down your cheek.

So begins the end.

“Okay.”

Dedicated to @nof0odallowed for the original ask! 💞

Next Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 8

Previous Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 6

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles request #harry styles concept #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #iFall for Harry #harry styles series

716 notes · View notes