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criminalamnesia · 3 months

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ending 2 for tolerate it! this was my original idea for the ending!

I just wanted to clarify that I’m writing these two endings bc of the feedback I’ve received. The first ending is for those who wanted them to reconcile/make amends, and I wanted to give those readers some closure.

this ending is for those who want reader to be happy without him (which was my original idea lol). anyways I know a lot of people didn’t like ending 1 and that’s okay!! but here’s ending two, I hope you like it better :)

[ also, this takes place in between the time that reader leaves simon/price and the last line of part two! ]

part one here, part two here, ending 1 here

your friend graciously let you live with them for a few months while you got back on your feet.

you went to therapy. stopped crying whenever you thought of him or even his name. started taking care of yourself again.

you move out and find this cute little house. it’s small, cozy. you adore it, and your friend helps you move in.

you make it your own with colors and trinkets and pictures. there’s nothing in that house that serves as a reminder of your time with him. you’d gotten rid of all the pictures, all the gifts he’d bought you before things turned sour.

fuck him. he didn’t deserve to see your growth and your happiness. he didn’t deserve anything from you.

you get used to being on your own again. it’s nice. you don’t worry about a man who is halfway across the world. don’t worry about baking a cake for his return or setting up streamers. don’t worry about how damaged he’ll be when he walks through the door.

you’re happy. you love your job, your home, your friends. you treat yourself to coffee every wednesday afternoon, and that’s when you meet him.

you’ve ordered your coffee and are sitting at one of the cafe’s little tables, scrolling on your phone, when a man clears his throat.

you look up, and he’s got the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hi,” he says, and you give a small smile as you click off your phone.

“um, hi?” you say, a little unsure of why he’s speaking to you.

“not to sound weird or anything,” he begins, and you give a small laugh.

“y’know, whenever someone says that, whatever they say next does tend to sound weird.”

he nods, that smile on his lips growing a smidge wider. “right. so, I guess this will be weird then, huh? but I’ve noticed you here every wednesday, and I just wanted to tell you you’re beautiful.”

you blush. you don’t think a man has ever been so straightforward with you, and although you do think it’s kind of weird, you try to just focus on the compliment.

but your guard is up. you don’t know him.

“oh, thank you. that’s sweet,” you reply, and he’s still looking down at you.

“can I sit?” he asks, which takes you by surprise.

“um, sure? I guess?” you say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement, but he’s sliding into the seat across from you.

he introduces himself, and you tell him your name. he says it’s pretty. you’re starting to think he’s coming on too strong.

but as the two of you begin to talk, you start to realize that’s just who he is. he’s a flirt, a flatterer, but it’s good natured.

it’s easy to talk to him. he keeps the conversation going, and he seems generally interested in what you have to say. it’s a stark difference from your last relationship.

but then he tells you he’s military, and your heart nearly stops.

“oh,” you say, a small frown on your lips.

“that an issue?” he says, and his tone is teasing. he doesn’t know— how could he? but your face says it all.

his brows furrow, and he gets serious for the first time since he’d sat across from you. he starts to reach for your hand, but decides against it. again, the two of you don’t know each other, and he’s aware of that.

“I don’t have a good track record with men in the military,” you tell him, trying to lighten the mood. he can tell something’s wrong, but he doesn’t push. he takes the bait, and you’re grateful. it makes you like him even more.

that’s why you end up talking until the place closes. the employees are practically shooing you out as you and the military man apologize profusely.

you’re on the sidewalk now, and he’s smiling at you. you find yourself smiling back.

“d’you mind if I get your number?” he asks.

as much as you enjoyed talking to him, you’re still unsure. you just recovered from everything that happened— are still recovering. you don’t want to rush into anything. so, you shake your head.

“if you’re serious,” you begin, looking up at him. “I’ll see you on another wednesday.”

he nods, a mischievous smile on his face. “im up to the challenge.”

you give a small laugh, then tell him goodnight. you turn and begin to walk towards your car, and you’re smiling like an idiot.

you don’t want to get you hopes up, but that little naive part of you— a part of you you’d thought was dead and gone— is making you. you try to stamp it back down.

next wednesday, you don’t see him, and you’re a little sad about it. you don’t see him the wednesday after that, either.

you don’t see him for a few months, actually. and after a few weeks, you’ve stopped thinking about him.

but then one wednesday, you’re sitting in that coffee shop, and there he is.

he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt, and you can see fresh cuts and scrapes along his arms. he asks if he can sit, and you oblige, gesturing to the seat across from you.

“sorry for disappearing on you,” he says, and you shake your head. he doesn’t owe you anything. you barely know each other.

“that day we talked, i ended up gettin’ deployed a few days later. didn’t have your number, so…” he trails off with a cheeky smile, and you grin as you roll your eyes.

“so im to blame, hm?” you say, and he nods.

“oh, absolutely.” he’s teasing, and you laugh.

“then let’s amend that.” you hand him your phone and he lights up. he taps his number in quickly before handing the phone back to you. you send him a quick ‘hi’ so your number will pop up in his phone.

“didn’t forget about you, though,” he says, and you blush. this man certainly has a way with words. “that’s why im here. glad to see you’re still a creature of habit.”

“is that a bad thing?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“nah, I don’t think so.”

your phone chimes then. it’s one of your friends, asking you if you can come over. you type a quick reply and start to gather your things.

“leavin’ so soon?” he says, and you give a small nod.

“friend emergency.”

he nods. “understood. well, I’ll see you around then, yeah?” he smiling as he pushes himself out of his chair.

“you do have my number now,” you remind him. “we don’t have to wait on chance encounters.”

he hums in agreement. “that’s true, but I prefer face-to-face, y’know? especially since yours is so pretty.”

“you’re a flirt,” you tell him, but you’re blushing, and he chuckles.

“guilty.”

you bid him goodbye and walk towards the exit, your mind instantly shifting gears to your friend. you don’t think about the military man again until he texts you that night.

‘friend okay?’ he types.

‘all good.’ you respond.

he’s typing back for a good minute. the bubble disappears, then reappears.

‘if there are no more friend crises for the foreseeable future, and im not shipped off to fight bad guys, how about a proper date?’

you smile as you read the message.

‘sure.’ you respond, and he sends back a smiley face.

a first date turns into a second, then a third, then a fourth. they’re spread out over a year because of his job, but you don’t find yourself minding that much. he treats you so much differently than the last man did.

he eventually asks you to be his partner, and you say yes. of course you’re a little hesitant— things with your last military man started off good, too. but you feel like it’s different this time. he’s different.

you don’t know it, but every time he’s deployed, he talks his squad’s ear off about you. tells them you’re the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and that you’re so funny. tells them he’s gonna ask you to move in with him.

but he never mentioned your name. maybe he forgot, or maybe he just didn’t want to share that piece of you with them.

“you never shut up about this lover of yours,” simon/price says one day while they’re eating in the mess hall. although they’re not in the same squad, they’re friends, and they happen to be on base at the same time. “no way they’re real.”

your man just grins and holds out his phone, showing off his lockscreen. it’s a picture of you with your head thrown back in laughter. he’d taken it on one of your dates.

simon/price’s face darkens almost imperceptibly before he masks it. that’s you. he hadn’t thought about you in ages, but he knows that’s you in that picture. now everything comes rushing back.

your lover doesn’t notice the other man’s expression shift. he doesn’t realize that the man across from him knows you.

you had told him more about the man who broke your heart, but you’d never mentioned his name. you didn’t want to risk him knowing him.

it’s a good thing you’d never mentioned the name, because if your lover knew, he’d punch him in the jaw.

the conversation eventually shifts away from you, and simon/price is grateful. your man is none the wiser.

when he gets back home, he asks you to move in. you tell him no at first. you’re still a little broken. he understands, and doesn’t hold it against you. he takes it in stride, and you’re grateful.

you don’t know how you got so lucky this time. you don’t know how this man, who was so understanding, so kind, so caring, had practically fallen into your lap. maybe it was karma from your last relationship.

the universe crushed you once, and to make up for it, they dropped this man into your life. whatever it was, you were thankful.

the second time he asks you to move in with him, you say yes. he helps you with everything, and the whole time he’s smiling like an idiot. even when you almost drop a shelf on his toe, or when you argue with him about where to hang a picture.

you two end the night eating take out on the couch and watching trashy tv. he decides right then that he’s going to marry you one day.

a few months after you move in, he tells you he wants you to meet his friends.

you’re nervous, but he reassures you it will all be fine. tells you that they’ll love you. so, you get yourself ready and then he’s helping you into his truck, and your leg is shaking the whole way to the bar.

he puts a comforting hand on your knee. gives you a dazzling smile.

“they’ll love you,” he tells you. you nod.

when you get to the crowded bar, he leads you by the hand inside. you’re towed along behind him, so you don’t see his friends until you’re standing right in front of the booth they occupy.

you scan their faces, and you don’t recognize any of them. you’re thankful— a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. he introduces you to them, and you fit in easily.

the night is going well until your man mentions simon/price’s name. he couldn’t know, you’d never told him. he was telling the story of how simon/price hadn’t believed him when he was talking about you.

the rest of his friends were laughing, but you were tense. he noticed immediately, shoulder nudging yours as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“you okay?” he murmured, and you nodded.

he could tell you were lying, but he didn’t push it. didn’t even bring it up again until the two of you were home.

“how do you know simon/price?” he asked you as you hung your coat up on the rack. you frowned as you turned to face him.

“he was the one I dated before you. the guy who broke my heart. the one I told you about, remember?”

your man goes silent. he’s looking at you, his fists clenched at his sides. he believes you. there’s not a doubt in his mind, even for a second, that you’re not telling the truth.

“I didn’t want to tell you his name,” you admit, taking a step towards him. “in case you knew him. didn’t want to make things complicated.”

he’s still silent, his eyes trained on you as you slowly approach. an expression you can’t name paints his face.

“I understand if you want to end things,” you tell him, and that gets him moving again. he’s shaking his head. “I don’t want to come between you and your friends.”

“fuck him,” he spits, and he reaches his arms out to you. you step into his embrace and take a shaky breath. “fuckin’ bastard. I showed him a picture of you, and he didn’t say anything. I was gonna invite him tonight, but he’s on assignment, and—” he inhales sharply as his hands rest on your back. “and now im gonna break his fucking jaw.”

you push yourself back, your eyes finding your lover’s. you shake your head. “it’s not worth it. besides, don’t make any enemies within your base. you’ve got enough of those already.”

you can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. he nods after a moment. silence fills the room.

“we don’t run in the same circles, usually,” he tells you, his voice quiet. “known each other since enlistment. got assigned to different squads. kept running into each other, though. kept in touch.”

“you can still—” you begin, but he interrupts.

“no, fuck him. I can’t be his friend when he’s treated you like shit. fucker will be lucky if I don’t blacken his fuckin’ eye.”

you don’t say anything. you pull yourself back towards his chest, and he holds you tight.

you don’t say anything, but your heart swells. this man, the one in your arms, is everything that he wasn’t. he doesn’t tolerate you, he celebrates you. loves you unconditionally. communicates and compromises. doesn’t pull away.

that’s why, when he asks you to marry him a month later, you say yes without thinking. because you don’t need to think.

the ceremony is small. friends and family gather and celebrate the two of you. you laugh and dance and drink the night away with the love of your life by your side.

and you don’t think of the man that broke your heart anymore. don’t give him the time of day, because you’ve moved on to something far greater. you’ve moved on to what you deserve.

a few years down the road, when your husband has finally retired, you’re making your way down the road to meet him at the coffee shop that brought you together.

someone calls your name, and your blood runs cold. you know that voice, and although you haven’t thought about who it belongs to in years, you doubt you’ll ever truly forget it.

he’s calling your name from somewhere behind you. you don’t turn around.

instead, you pull open the door of the coffee shop, step inside, and smile when you see your husband sitting at the same table you’d met him at all those years ago.

——————————————————————

author’s note:

ending 2 is finally here! while writing this, I originally pictured the reader getting with Gaz/johnny; however, I wasn’t sure how that would turn out.

how would they still work with simon/price after knowing everything? how would you go so long without hearing about/meeting gaz/johnny’s squad mates?

I didn’t know, and that’s why I scrapped the idea. You can still picture them, though! but I thought it best to have the love interest someone kinda detached from the 141.

anyways, hope you enjoyed :)

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hotpinkstars · 7 days

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GIRL DAD OR BOY DAD? - sunday, boothill x reader

- or more clearly, to what gender would they want to have more, and general headcannons of them as papas ☺️

- brainrot brainrot brainrot BRAINROT AHHH... i love these guys and i can do a part 2 for others later but godd theres absolutely not enough dad stuff for these men (especially sunday... if there is its all yandere) so never fear novas here! ahem anyways enjoy

- warnings none! pure fluff!!! wc 711

Sunday is so a girl and boy dad.

Reason why I say this is because he likely needs an heir to take over his position when he gets too old to do so, but he also wants a baby girl he can spoil as well.

Don’t worry! He loves both of his kids the same! They’re the greatest things that have probably ever happened to him and he cherishes them with his whole life. He thanks the stars above every single day for the opportunity he received to be a father to multiple beautiful children, and thanks you for granting him the chance.

Dunno, but I could see this man wanting a handful of kids. He wants at least one girl and at least one boy, but I could see him shooting for 3-4. Will he be around to care for them? Not all the time, but he tries his hardest (and he definitely has the resources to care for that many).

Considering they’re half halovian and half human, they look pretty much just like their father! Some have your eyes, but they all have his hair. His hair and his gorgeous wings. They have your features though, such as your face, body type, etc.

His favorite part of the day is when he gets to collapse on your shared bed, his kiddos following behind him to cuddle their dad, and most of the time you all fall asleep together. Normally, you wake up just you and him because he’s good about putting them in their own bed once they fall asleep.

Once his kids get older, he’ll teach his son(s) combat and good form. He wants them to protect, and wants to raise them to be strong and independent. With his daughter(s), if they ask to be taught combat, then he won’t see much of an issue with it. He also wants to teach them independence, but in a more subtle form.

Just expect that his children as teenagers are going to be the prettiest kids around holy shit. They’re obviously enrolled in a private school due to their fathers high status but they always come home and list the compliments they’ve received that day. Thankfully you two have raised them well enough for them to realize that it’ll be bad if all of these get to their head and stroke their ego too hard…

Supportive father asf! All I’ve gotta say here

Don’t play Boothill is SO a girl dad hello have you met the man

He’s so excited when his little girl is born ahh he’s always dreamed of being a father to a girl and his dream has officially come true!!

Obviously, if you had a boy, he’d love him the same. He just wants children of his own tbh lol

His daughter knows western culture fresh out of the womb my friend. It’s like she was born for little cowboy boots and the cutest little cowboy hat. She’s even got a western name, he brought it up and you liked it, so the name you two settled on was Cassidy.

She has his hair! It’s absolutely gorgeous once it starts coming in- a pearly white color with little black streaks stemming from the roots. She has your eyes and your face, and his slimmer body type (before he was turned into a cyborg. This isn’t canon I actually have no clue what he looked like pre cyborgification lmao).

Oh lord, your daughter is so spoiled. On every mission he goes on he’s always bringing something back for her. It could be a super fancy necklace or even just a little trinket he picked up from a street vendor, but she has a whole shelf full of the things her daddy gives her.

She thinks it’s so cool he has a metal body. She asks about it alot but she’s really fascinated with it tbh. She likes to call it “daddy’s special feature!” and he always melts to that sentence gosh

He probably teaches his daughter how to use a gun when she gets older. He, similar to Sunday, wants his daughter to learn self defense tactics and learn how to fend for herself when necessary.

She totally has his accent. Change my mind period.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai #honkai x reader #sunday #sunday hsr #boothill #boothill hsr #boothill x reader #sunday x reader

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handumb · 2 months

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shhhh..

~ shigaraki x f!reader

summary: you had been exceptionally dry towards your boyfriend this past week, and he couldn’t get the reason out of you over text, no matter how hard he tried. So he figured he’d pay you a little visit! :)

additional tags: reader has strict parents, eventual smut, forced to be quiet, established relationship, teasing, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, using panties as a gag, slight aftercare, no quirk au

a/n: this is my first time writing publicly on this account, so please feel free to leave tips or suggestions for me <3

word count: ~2.7k

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Family dinner was something that was obligatory in your household; it had been since the dawn of time. Unless you weren’t home, you had no excuse to not be sat at your dining room table with your parents. That leaves you where you are now, picking at your plate as you sit in uncomfortable silence with your mom and dad. You knew the reason why they were refraining from breaking the silence, in turn understanding that they were going to avoid the subject all together.

“So, when can I talk to my boyfriend again?” Your tone was slightly annoyed, as you placed your fork down on your plate and looked up across the table. You met your mother’s eyes, which looked to her husband, and back to you. She let out a sigh as she also set down her fork, bringing her napkin to the corner of her mouth.

“You know the answer. He’s bad for you, and we will not allow you two to see each other any longer,” she stated simply. She was right, you knew the answer, but you couldn’t stand being forced to be so distant with him. It killed you to not maintain the same personality with him online, let alone not seeing him for the past week and a half. You looked to your dad, but he avoided your gaze, not being one for confrontation. “What your mother said, sweetheart.”

You scoffed, throwing your hands up and letting them fall to your sides. “That’s not fair, it’s my life,” you said, hating that they thought they could control you like this. “No, it’s our life, and it will be for as long as you live under this roof. If you want to be independent, you can move out!” Your mother raised her voice, displaying her usual short temper. “You don’t get it, you don’t even care enough to meet him,” you retorted, propping your elbows up on the table and swinging your hands around as you spoke, as if it helped prove your point.

“Honey, please, just try to see it from our perspective,” your dad started, turning to face you. “You sneak around with him, he’s been in the custody of the police more than once, he doesn’t do good in school, the list goes on. He doesn’t seem to have a good influence on you. We’re doing this because we love you.” You looked at your dad in disbelief. Of course they used that excuse, it’s their favorite one to abuse.

“You will stop seeing each other, and that’s final.” Your mom stated with no room for arguing otherwise. Feeling your blood rush to your face, you made the executive decision to stand up from the table, and reside in your room, not wanting to say anything that would provoke further punishment from the both of them. “If you loved me, you would let me live my life however I damn well pleased. Fucking god.” The words left your lips as a soft curse as you stormed down the hall and toward your bedroom door. Opening it revealed a surprise that you definitely weren’t expecting.

There laid your boyfriend, Tomura, lazily on your bed, fiddling with some little trinket that was supposed to be on your desk. The sound of your door opening snapped him out of whatever he was doing, and he smiled, really it was more of a smirk, and got up off the bed to greet you.

“Hey sweet thing.” He cooed out. Your eyes were wide and your feet were frozen, not expecting him to literally be in your room.

You shut the door swiftly, and held your hands out in front of you, motioning for him to stop and explain himself. “How? Why??” You could barely get out before realizing your parents could probably still hear you. Before he even started talking, you put a finger to your lips, signaling him to be quiet. You walked past him, finding something to turn on as noise to drown you two out. You landed on just turning on your fan.

The fan ran for a second before you interrogated him on what he was doing here. “What are you doing? How did you get in?” You were right in front of him, whisper-yelling your inquiries at him. He started walking closer to you, closing the gap between your bodies. You stepped back, until you reached your bed. You sat on it and looked up at him, waiting for his answer.

“Well, your window was unlocked, and I wanted to see why you’ve been ignoring me.” He stated with ease, a slight grin and a shrug of his shoulders accompanying his words. You sigh and furrow your eyebrows, upset at yourself. You didn’t want to break the news like this, but you figured you had no other choice. You were mentally beating yourself up for what you were about to say.

“Tomura.. I think we have to.. uhm- stop seeing.. each other.” The words left your mouth with so much hesitation, dripping in sadness. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, holding your gaze in your lap. Your head felt heavy as you tried to compose yourself, knowing he wouldn’t react well to the news.

You didn’t hear anything for a good while after you spoke, deciding to look to see what he was thinking. Except, you don’t see a different expression from what he was sporting earlier. He still had the shit-eating grin that was plastered on his face when you first saw him. “That’s cute, angel.” He rasped out, grasping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He crawled to you on the bed, forcing you to lie down as he positioned himself on top of you, trapping you. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

He leaned down to kiss you, holding the side of your face with one of his hands. You matched his movements, bringing your hands up to either side of his head. You were lost in the feeling, missing this for the last week or so. You wanted it to be slow, in case this was actually the last time you saw him. He slowly prodded your lips with his tongue, asking for permission to be let in. You granted it happily, parting your lips as you felt your breathing slowly become heavier.

He leaned down, pressing himself more into you as an effect, and finally broke the kiss. The catching of breath was all that was heard between the two of you. He just smiled with half lidded eyes before dipping down to your jawline, eventually kissing his way down to your neck. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling at his locks and tangling themselves in it. That’s when you realized that your parents were, in fact, still home. Most likely just down the hall from the both of you.

You panicked, trying to push Tomura’s face away from the warmth of your neck so that you wouldn’t get caught. “Wait, no, my parents are still home, I can’t-” You were cut off, your breath hitching, Tomura not budging as he continued his attack on your neck. “T-Tomura, I can’t, not now-“

“Yes, now,” he breathed out, finding a spot on your collarbone to sink his teeth into. He sucked on the spot afterwards, allowing as close to instant relief as he could, before dragging his tongue along it painfully slow. This elicited soft whimpers from your throat, foiling your plan of trying not to let too much noise slip. Sure, the fan helped with blocking it out, but it could only do so much before your parents got suspicious.

You eventually gave in, not being able to resist him with any bone in your body. He kissed down your collarbone, and made his way to your chest. He slid his hands up the shirt that was covering one of his favorite features about you, slowly raising it above your head and discarding it off to the side. He had a twinkle of something in his eyes, and licked his lips, before kissing and sucking all over your chest. His lips lingered on your nipple, sucking at it harshly, before bringing one of his free hands up to the other, making sure it didn’t feel neglected.

“So beautiful, all for me.” He said, making it increasingly harder to stay quiet, and you were very sure he knew that. You looked down at him, the sight one to remember, while soft moans were slipping past your lips. You bit your tongue in hopes of it helping cease the noises. He met your gaze, grinning.

Once he was done marking and biting your chest, he made his way down to your most intimate area. He started fiddling with the waistband of your underwear, looking up at you while he did so. You looked down at him with pleading eyes, practically begging him not to do what he was about to. “No! Are you crazy? Do you want me to get caught?” You whisper to him, squirming. He only laughed softly in response before slowly pulling them down your legs; past your mid thighs, then your knees, then all the way down to your ankles, before wadding them up and shoving them into your mouth.

“I guess you’ll just have to be quiet then, princess,” he teased, honing in on his target, “I bet you can manage.” His tongue stuck out, licking up your slit, then going to focus on your clit. You moaned into your panties, the sensation euphoric. God, you missed this. You couldn’t fathom how you went without him for as long as you had.

He wrapped his lips around your sensitive nub, lapping the rest of your pussy generously with his tongue. You tried to stay quiet, you really did, but you couldn’t help how euphoric it felt. You continued moaning, fighting back as much as you could manage. You were squirming in his grip, either trying to break free from his hands or trying to grind against his face; you weren’t sure which you were attempting. All that washed over you was an intense amount of pleasure, urging you to reach a hand up to one of your tits, fondling it and tugging at your nipple.

Your breath became labored, the rise and fall of your chest attracting Tomura’s eyes as he looked up at the beautiful sight: you with your legs spread wide just for him, moaning out what he assumed was a mix of curses and his name as he made you feel heavenly. He took it one step further.

“Look at me,” he pulled away, waiting for you to meet his gaze, “look at me as I fuck you with my fingers.” He said, slowly inserting his fingers into your core, feeling your gummy insides squeeze around his digits. You lulled your head back against your pillow, the combination forcing you closer to your climax.

That was until the sound of knocking at your door interrupted the two of you, the room falling almost completely silent as one of your parents made their presence known. “Honey?” Your dad called out, talking through the door. You sat up as much as you could, not knowing what to do. Your eyes darted between Tomura and your door, frozen.

“I.. I wanted to apologize for earlier.” He was lingering outside of your door. Tomura had a devilish grin on his face, slowly starting his movements up again. You looked down at him, seeing him slowly bring a finger up to his lips with a small “shh” emitting from them, dipping back down into your cunt, and thrusting his fingers in and out of you. You squealed softly into your underwear, trying especially hard not to make any noise now that your dad was outside of your door.

“You know how mom can be sometimes, she just needs some downtime,” he continued, wildly unaware of what was going on just on the other side of the wood barrier between the two of you. You felt yourself slowly climb back up the steep hill of pleasure, your boyfriend's movements only getting more intense as he makes it his mission to get you to cum. You looked down at him, pleading eyes begging him to slow down, or at least make it easier for her to keep quiet. But, to no avail as he kept up his pace with his fingers, matching it with his tongue as he focused on your sweet spots.

“We can go out tomorrow, just the two of us? I bet it’ll make you feel better, sweetheart,” he said. You squirmed, softly moaning, waiting for your dad to leave. You could feel yourself nearing the edge, wiggling your hips as you tried to force yourself into your orgasm. To your dad, you were just giving him the silent treatment, so he took that as his cue to retire back to his room. “Okay, goodnight honey,” your dad said, before leaving again.

Tomura rasped out a small laugh, before urging you on. “Come on, angel, you can do it. You’re doing so good.” He whispered in between your thighs, hitting the spots that make you see stars over and over, finally pushing you over the edge. You looked down at him one more time, before coming undone. You felt him hum in satisfaction as he tasted your orgasm, forcing you to ride it out until you were begging for him to take it easy on you. Your hand found refuge in his scalp, tangling themselves in the nest of light blue locks.

With one last lap of his tongue around your cunt, he pulled away, a smile plastered on his face as he licked his fingers clean. Your face was slightly flushed as you smiled back at him, your chest rhythmically rising and falling. He crawled on top of you, wrapping his arms around your body. You started massaging his scalp with one of your hands, and rubbed his back with the other. You heard him mumble out, “Are you actually going to follow through? With the thing you brought up earlier?” You heard his tone; he sounded defeated.

You cup his face in your hands, turning it to face your own. “Of course not. My parents have been on me about it, and I didn’t know what else to do.” You looked away for a moment, then back at him. “But, that’s not to say that I won’t still ignore you, seeing this is what happens when I do,” you teased, a smirk on your face. Tomura scoffed, shaking his head and laying it back down on your chest.

After a long, silent moment, Tomura propped himself up. “I think I should go. Your parents will kill both of us if they found out I was here,” he said, moving towards the window to open it up again. “Aww, please, stay just a little longer.. Please?” You pleaded, sitting up and following him out of bed covering yourself with a nearby blanket. He turned to face you, hands moving from the window to your face. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back. You can count on that,” he said, half of his face illuminated by the dim light of the moon. He leaned down, your lips interlocking with his one last time, before he turned to escape through the window.

“Wait!” You called out to him, leaning out the window. He turned to meet you, pulling his hood up. “Uhm- text me when you get home. Maybe I can sneak off to see you next time,” you said, a small dust of pink on your cheeks as you spoke. You heard him let out a small laugh as he nodded up to you, running off into the night, leaving you up in your room for the rest of the time being.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura smut #shigaraki smut #mha shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #first post #i’m nervous #please don’t be mean to me #haha

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thebestofoneshots · 28 days

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.6 K Warnings: None Prompt: Time to wrap it all up, and perhaps receive one or two surprises. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 42: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Wednesday, December 23rd

The art store was small, but filled with colours all around. Small little black cabinets with golden numbers on top behind the counter, and walls lined with different paint pots and colours, a wall with wooden frames and delicately separated boxes that held paint brushes of all different sizes and shapes and, by the bits you’d read, also materials.

At the top of the cabinets there was a small display of colourful markers and pens and other things that you knew muggles used but you weren’t too familiar with. Apparently, they used stick glue instead of sticking spells to adhere stuff. You wondered how much of this stuff Sirius actually knew about and vowed to bring him to this place with you one day.

And while you did appreciate art, thoroughly – you’d gone to multiple museums, both muggle and wizarding through your trips – you had no idea what the difference was between gouache and acrylic, or why the “Rembrandt” that claimed to be made out of oil, where much more expensive than the “Winsor & Newton” ones that claimed the same. It had to be because of the quality, right?

“Good evening, may I help you?” a young man, probably in his late twenties asked as he approached you. He was dressed in rather formal clothes and had a pair of thin-rimmed golden glasses. You would have probably considered him attractive if you hadn’t been accustomed to Sirius’ dashing looks or Remus’ lovely smile. You really were lucky to be surrounded by handsome and pretty humans, you thought, thinking of the rest of your friends.

You must have looked as lost as a Bowtruckle in the middle of New York since he looked like he would try to be overly polite.

“I’m looking for a gift, my boyfriend loves to draw, but I’m… not really good with all the supplies and stuff, I was thinking perhaps a nice set of pencils and a sketchbook. I’ve been looking through the paints as well, but I don’t think he’s the kind to do the whole canvas thing, at least not while we’re in school.”

“Well, does he colour his drawings?”

You thought about it for a moment, what he’d shown you were mostly sketches done in pencil, though there were some with an underlayer of red and or blue. “I think he uses some for the base of the drawings.”

“Does he overline them?” The expression you gave him when he asked made him clarify it. “After the pencil sketch is done, does he add a pen or marker to finish up the details?”

Sirius did not do that, but you also thought how complicated it would be to do such a thing with a quill instead of the pens and trinkets the muggles had invented so you nodded in response. “Yeah… not that often but I’m sure he’d like something to be able to do it.”

“All right, follow me,” he said as he motioned to one of the furthest walls. “This is where we keep all of our sketchbooks, the thicker the grammage the stronger pens and markers it will hold. Also, some can even hold watercolour, not sure if he’s into that too.”

“Do you have like – a book on the basics of watercoloring? I feel like he might actually be interested in that.”

“We do,” he said with a nod and moved to the other side of the store bringing you a few options. You picked one of them and then looked through the sketchbooks. There were different sizes and colours and the pages felt really different on most of them. Some were especially made for watercolours and some were for drawing. You took one with about 100 pages for watercolour and one with the same amount of pages but with a bit less grammage for sketches.

They both had a black cover with golden elegant trims that you thought would definitely go with Sirius’ look, although one opened from the side, making it more of a panoramic view while the other one stayed horizontal. You handed them in to the guy and he took them to the counter as you continued looking around. You leaned into the watercolour section and started to look at all the different options available.

“If this is the first time he’ll do watercolour, may I recommend you buy a set?” he asked politely as he showed you a small wooden case, when he opened it there were all sorts of small blocks with different colours on them. “These are my favourite brand, but really gentle with beginners, they also come with this interesting thing,” he added as he handed you a small brush with a clear section at the top. “It comes with water, you don’t have to dip your brush that often, really useful once you get the hang of it.”

“You have more of those?” you asked and he nodded, showing you the different sizes of brush ends. After a while, and with a lot of his help, you ended up selecting about 5 different brushes and the colours that you’d fill the small wooden box with as well, which you thought was fantastic since you could fill it up with whatever colours you chose and not a set palette.

“You’ll also take the marker set, the watercolour book and the sketchbooks, correct? Anything else?”

“Uhh… Am I missing anything that he might need?

“Does he draw portraits or landscapes?”

You thought back of the Remus drawing he’d shown you, and then of the one you had chosen not to see. “He draws portraits and anatomy studies. Though I’m sure I’ve seen him doodle other stuff too.”

“He might like this book then,” he told you as he handed over another book. It was about proportions and hand drawing and a lot of very advanced-looking stuff, you smiled.

“This one as well, please…” he was about to finish the bill when you stopped him, looking down through the glass display and pointing towards something, “Is that a penknife?”

“Well, yes,” he replied, “Although sharpeners are used more often nowadays, some people still prefer them.”

“I’d like one of those as well,” you added with a smile.

“Excellent.” The man gave you your total and then handed every single thing in a thick paper bag. “You said it was for a gift, right?”

“Yes,” you nodded and he walked to the back of the shop, pulling a very elegant and sturdy black box, he eyed the bag as if calculating if everything would fit and then handed it over to you along with a black and gold ribbon with the name of the store repeated over and over.

As he handed it over he pulled it back for a second and gave you a smile. “That young gentleman is very lucky to have you as a girlfriend.”

“I think I’m just as lucky as he is,” you responded with a small smirk as you took the box.

“Would you like me to call you a cab?”

You thought about it for a second. Your house wasn’t that far, and with a short levitating spell you wouldn’t have to carry much stuff either, but the Knight Bus did mention they’d be very busy and you had been walking all day. “Yes, thank you.”

The man called for one and you waited inside the store until the cabbie arrived. You gave him your address and he took you straight there. You took the lift of your building, using your wand to unlock the secret –magical- floor your parents had purchased in London and waited.

When the two, golden doors of the lift opened to your drawing room, you sighed. Leaning down to take off your shoes. “Mom? Dad?”

No answer. “What time is it?” you whispered to yourself as you looked at the clock, quarter past ten? That art store surely has late closing times, you thought as you leaned back down to pull your bags up and drag them to your room.

There was a note on the table along with what looked like a delightfully looking salad and steak.

We’ll be home late, serve yourself. See you tomorrow darling.

You sighed and after placing the bags on the table, and using a warming spell on the food, you ate. Once you were done, the plate disappeared from the table and instead, a chocolate cake showed up. You smiled, at least they knew you liked sweets. You took a few bites from that and took it, along with your gifts, to your room.

That’s when you remembered you had promised to tell your friends when you arrived here so you quickly scribbled a few notes. Sending your owl –Resse– back to the Potter’s and Barnaby –the family’s owl– to Beth. Then you took some Floo powder and leaned over the fire.

“Tom?” You asked as you peeked through his chimney.

“Sly sprite?” He asked as he leaned over. “I was starting to worry,” he said as he left a book on the side. “You got home, all right?”

“Yeah!” you said with a smile. “And I got a bunch of good stuff at the store too, it was worth it.”

“It better have been! Beth is home too, we stopped by hers first.”

You chatted with Tom for a little while more and ended the call when you started to yawn and he followed right after. With that, you went for a quick and warm shower and then back to bed.

Thursday, December 24th

There was a soft knock on the door, you stirred on your bed but didn’t wake and then there was another one. “Sweetheart? Breakfast’s ready, come eat.”

“On my way,” you said as you sat on your bed and rubbed your eyes a couple of times. The day was bright, you’d forgotten to shut your windows at night and now you had the perfect view of the Thames through your window. You thought back to Hogwarts and how all the splendour of it had been made by magic, while the splendour of London had mostly been made by muggles.

The high skyscrapers, the Ferris Wheel across the river, the towers, palaces and bridges, all muggle-made, and without magic, it was fascinating. You didn’t understand why wizards had so many prejudices against them –aside from the whole burning on steak part, muggles seemed to be quite incredible and determined people. Perhaps you should have taken that muggle studies optative.

“Sweetheart?” you heard your father’s voice, a bit more stern than your mother’s.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you said as you shook your covers off and grabbed your wand from the nightstand. “As if they hadn’t been home hours after I got here,” you mumbled as you fished for a pair of slippers under your bed.

By the time you got out of your room both your mom and dad were sitting on the living room table. Your mom was wearing a beautiful cocktail dress while your dad had a perfectly fitting black suit on with a small cape, draped elegantly behind his chair. You were still wearing a band shirt you had stolen from Sirius a while ago, and that you had been wearing under Remus’ jumper before the trip. “Lovely to see you,” you said with an awkward smile, “it’s been a while.”

Your father looked up from his newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand only for a second, nodded and then went back to read. Your mom gave you a sympathetic look and nodded for you to sit down. After a couple of minutes, your dad bent the newspaper and placed it on the side of the table.

“We’ve heard plenty of your Hogwarts Adventures,” your father said looking at you. “You’ve been doing a masterful job at maintaining our house’s name relevant.”

You frowned at that, that had never been your intention.

“You were incredible in the broom race though you lost,” your father said. “And you’ve won two quidditch matches–”

“That was a team effort…” you said, your voice growing smaller as his hand dismissed you.

“You’ve kept your grades high and you’ve even entered the duelling club…”

“Not to mention her Theoretical Magic grades,” your mom added with a smile.

“And you’re dating one of the Black kids.”

You swallowed. You had mentioned in your letters that you and Sirius had gotten along now that you were in the same house, but you hadn’t specifically mentioned you were dating him.

“The disowned Black kid,” your father continued.

You straightened a little, you had discussed with your dad the things that happened back in your vacations with the Blacks. It hadn’t been particularly nice talk, but you weren’t going to back down, his political means could not be worth more than his morals. And things had been rather tense between the two since then.

When two people had such intense ideological differences and desires, they were bound to clash against each other, especially when those ideologies juxtaposed against the other often, being only furthered by the fact that you were –at least on breaks– living under the same roof.

Your priorities had been wildly different and you weren’t shy about letting him know, which caused your relationship to deteriorate quickly. Not to say you –or him– had been particularly rude to each other, but you were much colder. It was almost Christmas, and you didn’t want to start a fight with him, let alone over something that you were most definitely not going to yield on.

“I think it’s all right. He might have been disowned by his family but he still stays in contact with some of the other Blacks like Alphard and the other disowned child… whatever her name is…” Andromeda, you thought as you tried to process the fact that he had just said it was fine. “Just try to avoid mentioning him in tomorrow’s dinner. I’m sure Walburga wouldn’t be particularly pleased.”

“Tomorrow’s dinn– Walburga will be coming?”

“Of course not, they have invited us to their Christmas dinner,” he said. “It’ll be hosted in Rosier Manor, I believe.”

“Whose manor?” You asked, your breath going short along with your question.

“Mr. Rosier,” your mom repeated. “All important wizards will be there.”

“I’d rather skip Christmas altogether.”

“I’m sorry, darling. This isn’t a matter of preferences. You will go and then we’ll let you do whatever you please for the rest of the break. Visit muggle London as much as you want or dally with your friends, I really don’t care as long as you maintain your composure during tomorrow’s dinner.”

Your leg was bouncing slightly under the table. “I don’t believe I will be welcomed in that house.”

“You will be welcomed because you are my daughter and I’m me,” he said with an air of finality. “We need to present a strong family front, play your part and you’ll be rewarded.”

“Right, my part,” you said bitterly. You wondered if your mother was playing her part too, they were in love, that wasn’t questionable, but sometimes it felt like she became nothing more than an addition to his recollection of what a perfect life should look like. Did he marry her because of the love he felt for her or because she’d look like a delightful trophy wife by his side on political dinners? Had she not been as beautiful as she was, had she not been well educated, would he have married her either way?

You wondered, when had Silas become the man he is now? When did his greed for power become so intense he would sacrifice his morals to achieve it? When you were smaller, you thought they loved each other, even now, you saw when they looked at each other with those adoring eyes, but… there was a tale of sacrifice weaved in between their story, and with one party constantly bending to the other’s wishes, you weren’t sure you could still call it love.

When devotion became toxic, was it still something that came from love, or had it become something else altogether?

“Indeed darling, we ask for nothing more than one night. Then you will not be bothered, free to go wherever you want and with whomever you please. Does that sound like a fair deal?”

You sighed and nodded, “One dinner.”

Your mother smiled at that, letting out a nervous breath and then reached for your hand. “Your clothes for tomorrow are already in your closet, I also got you some nice potions and make-up.”

“Thanks, Mum,” you said with a short smile and looked at your food. It looked delicious, it was French toast with berries and fruit on top –probably there to appeal to your sweet tooth and convince you to go– but you didn’t feel hungry at all. Especially not at the thought of having to go to Rosier Manor. As if you didn’t see enough of Evan at school, now you had to go see him on the break as well, bIoody brilliant. “Breakfast was great,” you said as you stood up. Both of them decided to ignore your almost intact plate, “I’ll be in my room in case you need anything else, you know like me playing the role of the perfect child of the politician if your friends come around or whatever.”

Your mom gave you a reproachful look while your dad gave you an impassive one, you raised your eyebrows at the two of them, almost tauntingly before you turned around, walking back to your room and letting the door close behind you gently –it was not the inanimate objects fault that your parents were acting like pricks.

You sat on your bed and took a deep breath before you saw a small owl by one of your windows, you let him in and took the rolled parchment from his feet before feeding him some water.

Dear Vix, Hope this letter finds you all right, Sirius was moaning about you going along Beth and Tom and not inviting him to buy Christmas stuff it was draining! Now I was not going to write to you about it because he said he would punch me in the face but I had to write anyway since mum and dad wanted you to have our address so you could come here through floo anytime. Hope you’re having a great time, Sirius and I went flying with Pete today (he lives a few houses from us, did we tell you?), and while it was nice not having to worry about Sirius distracting himself from snogging you, we missed you still. Mum and Dad send greetings to your parents, hope you’re also having a blast. Your bestest friend, James P. PS. Mum sent this tea for you, she said she thinks you’d like it with how much sweet stuff you eat and stuff. PS 2. Love you, but I bet you’re missing me more <– That was Sirius.

James’ stupid letter made you chuckle, especially the last bit, as if it had been necessary to point out that Sirius had been the one to write it. You placed the letter into a small box in your bag and smiled as you walked to pick up some of the stuff you’d be giving your friends as their gifts.

You picked up some wrapping paper and started wrapping all of their gifts, the owls would have to do a couple of trips to take them all to their place, but you’d make sure to leave them plenty of food throughout the night, so they could continue their trips and the presents would be at your friend’s beds in the morning.

You had gone through most of the smaller gifts first, writing small, and neatly written Christmas cards on them. Then you went for the bigger ones, the books you’d gotten for Lily, some of the stuff for Mary and Marlene, James’ pack, and of course, Remus and Sirius’.

It wasn’t until then, that you realised how overboard you had gone with your gifts. You’d gotten Remus so many books, both magical and muggle, that you almost felt guilty you hadn’t gotten Lily and James more stuff. And then you tried telling yourself it was because Remus would spend Christmas alone and he deserved at least a bit of happiness, you weren’t deliberately playing favourites.

And then Sirius’ pile was clearly a mess, you had all the music you’d gotten, the shirts, the penknife that you wanted to engrave with his name (you were researching for the right spell to do it) and a bunch of other stuff for him. Besides, you still wanted to make the playlists, so before you finished packing the bigger boxes, you started testing the recorder. Now there wasn’t exactly a step by step guide on how to record music, but there was a small booklet that showed you how the thing worked and you spend the rest of the day figuring it out, listening to music and making a playlist for each of your friends. Using all the songs you thought they might like.

When you were done with that, you continued packing all the stuff. Deciding to send all the music back to the boys’ room at Hogwarts so they could leave it on Sirius’ stash. Well, all of them except for the David Bowie tape you had specifically gotten for Sirius and that would look great with his shirt and the rest of the gifts you’d gotten him.

You went out to get some food at some point during the day, and there was another note from your parents telling you they were off at an event. Well, good riddance, you thought as you went back to your room with a sandwich in your hands. You picked one of the books you’d gotten for yourself and you spent almost the rest of the day reading it while jamming to one of the playlists you’d made. A copy of the one you’d made for Remus since you thought it went well with the book you’d chosen to read.

You fell asleep before your parents got home, with the book still in your hands and the music playing softly in the background until the cassette ran out of tape and was softly ejected by the machine. The sound it made had been so soft it didn’t wake you at all.

Thankfully, you had remembered to leave enough water and food for the owls, since they had spent all night doing trips back and forth to your house and your friends’.

Friday, December 25th

You woke up by being pecked in the face by a very big and very angry owl.

“Oi!” you complained. “What’s wrong with you?” The owl chirped and picked you again, this time on the ear. “Bitch,” you mumbled as you pushed him back lightly, only for him to pick you in the finger again.

You gave him an upset look and he pulled back just a little, tilting his head towards the window, and the lack of food and refreshments.

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been attacking me non-stop?” you asked as you stood up from the bed, failing to see the pile of wrapped gifts at the end of it. The owl chirped in response, a scowl that you weren’t sure was his natural face shape or an actual scowl directed towards you. “I’m sorry,” you added, “Barnaby and Reese must have eaten them all. They did many trips last night, you know?”

The owl chirped again, a little angry as he flew towards the window, as if saying «I too flew many trips last night» looking as indignant as a Towny Owl could. You added a few of the special snacks you kept for Reese just to keep him from biting you again. You looked at the name tag and realised who the owner of the owl had been.

Eun-ji, Minho had told you about her, she was his family’s owl and apparently, the name meant something like “kind”. So much for a kind owl, you thought as you looked at her, gobbling up Reese’s treats. You leaned over when you noticed there was a small letter attached to his feet and took it in your hands before the owl flapped his wings and left.

Merry Christmas Star Seeker, Hope you’re having a great time. Thought of giving you a special thanks for that one time you –quite literally– pushed me towards my crush and got us to start a conversation, that, well, you know how great it ended! Even for a Gryffindor, you’re really nice, so I thought of getting you something for you to get some more hate from your fellow Gryffindor, Eun-ji must have left the gift near your bed.

You turned to the side in the middle of reading and stood agape, there was not only a green and silver wrapped gift in what looked suspiciously like the shape of a snake, but there were also a bunch of other gifts wrapped in all sorts of colours.

Anyway thanks for everything, hope you have fun and all. I’m looking forward to beating you all next time we play, Love, The one and only, and your favourite Slytherin, Minho Cha.

You rolled your eyes at the last bit, it had been very Slytherin of him, but since you knew Minho, you also knew he was playing it off as a joke on his own house, which made a joke inside a joke and you thought it was actually kind of funny.

You took a deep breath and walked over to your bed. There were all sorts of gifts prompted there and you decided to unwrap Minho’s first. There was a small, green snake plushie with a bow on it that had a small pendant with something written on it: “From the snakes that love you dearly,” and then it had the names of all of your Slytherin friends: Minho, Comet, Nox, Reggie, and even some you weren’t expecting like Dorcas and Solacis. You thought it was an adorable little thing, even if –and you were certain of this– your friends would absolutely hate it. Well, not Lily, she’d also think it was adorable.

And thinking of her, was that you picked the next gift, wrapped in pink and yellow paper, and with her a small dedicatory on the corner, you instantly knew it was from her, her neat and perfect handwriting being the dеad giveaway. You smile as you read her small dedication. She wished you a very, merry Christmas and promised to tell you everything about the train with James as soon as you saw each other in person. She wrote something along the lines of not being able to put it on paper, which made you laugh.

When you opened the present you were thrilled, it was a small leather notebook, dark red with golden trims and your name on the cover. Not Vixen, not Starshine, or any of the other nicknames that you had come to own and love since you arrived at Hogwarts, but your name. You smiled as you traced your fingers over the letters. There was a pen on the side, golden and apparently of some interesting muggle technology that wasn’t that popular in the wizarding world. You thought it was fascinating. When you opened the notebook you realised there was something written, again in her handwriting.

You’ve had more adventures this year than I’ve had in my lifetime. I think it’s time for you to start writing down some of them, in case you ever want to revisit them. If journaling is not your thing (which I feel like it would be because I know you), you can just use this notebook however you want. You know grocery lists, songs for mixtapes, your favourite lyrics, poems, quotes, Sirius’ doodles, your doodles, dried flowers, stickers, whatever you want, it’s your space, and you may use it as you wish! Love, Lily

You thought the idea of having your own journal was brilliant, you always admired her for keeping hers so incredibly neat looking, and perhaps being able to let some of your feelings go on a blank page would be better than keeping them bottled up. You doubted you would be nearly as consistent as her, but you decided to add your first couple of words in there, detailing the gifts you’d gotten and the few you still had yet to open.

You’d gotten a box of your favourite candies from Mary and some incredible quidditch trading cards from Marlene, but she had also added some makeup to her gift because if not you and James would have gotten the exact same thing and you were her favourite between the two. You got a spellbook and a muggle prank book from Tom “to further your career” according to him. There was a large, embossed book from Nina, which you discovered was an annotated version of one of your favourite books and a small set of runes from Sybil. You had gotten her a deck of cards and a book about premonitions.

There were candies from Nox and a muggle book lantern from Neil Perry, you had both complained at some point about reading with your wand and you thought the solution he’d found was adorable. Peter had gotten you a book about canines, packed along with a small fox-themed bookmarker and a note that said “Thank you for not busting my make-out session and Merry Christmas.” He also added, “PS. maybe with this one you’ll be able to tame Pads.” Which had you wheezing with laughter for a while.

It took at least a minute to go for the next gift, it was a small box that said to be handled carefully. You opened it according to the instructions. “Shut the fuck up!” you said the moment you realized what was inside. A small Felix Felicis vial. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you repeated over and over again. “How did he even get his hands on it?”

You picked up the paper from behind it, there was a small note.

Okay say it: aside from Sirius, I AM your favourite Marauder. You might be wondering, “How the hell did James get his hands on this?”. Well dear, I must say, I have contacts. AKA my parents are expert potioneers and I somehow convinced Mum to brew one and that’s how I got my hands on it. Now, I could have given it to any of my friends but I get the feeling you might be needing some of this soon enough. You know, from things I’ve seen and such (please don’t waste it on a quidditch match, though). Anyway, I know you’ll use it well, hope you have a very Merry Christmas! Your favourite marauder AND bestest friend, Prongs.

You chuckled when you finished reading and went back to look at the vial with incredulity. Brewing one of these potions was arduous work, and it took weeks, which meant James must have had convinced Effie to do it even before she’d met you. Never underestimate James Potter, you thought as you grabbed onto the vial and placed it around your neck with a chain, casting a disillusionment charm on it so it wouldn’t be so obvious you had it with you. You thought the gift was brilliant.

After that, there were only 2 gifts left. You picked the one with a silver bow first. It was a square box, about 12” wide, and had been wrapped in the same paper as James’, which made you guess who it might be from. There were chocolates and a small letter on top, neatly closed and with your name written on the back with Sirius’ almost perfect calligraphy. There was also a paper covering something, but you picked the letter up first.

You know, I tried writing a love letter, but James wouldn’t stop making ridiculous comments about it not being profound enough and I feared I’d end up writing something close to the painfully ridiculous letters he used to write to Lily so I had to stop myself. Who would have thought it would be that hard to put thoughts into words? I suppose if I were like Remus it would come out much easier but, unfortunately, you’re stuck with me. Actually no, fortunately you’re stuck with me, I’m delightful.

You laughed, he’s not wrong.

Anyway, I suppose what I wanted to express in those dreadful attempts of being a poet was that I’m incredibly thankful that you came to Hogwarts and that you came back to me. I’m grateful that you tolerate me and my moods and that you love me for who I am, flaws and all. I wasn’t sure I’d ever found that kind of love, one that I even doubted it existed, and yet you’re always there to tease and make me laugh and– I already sound like James, but you know what I mean. You always know what I mean. As you see, I am far from a poet, but there is something I like to do and I thought that perhaps, you’d enjoy it more than this terrible love letter. You know, you and Remus were the first to ever see a sketch from my book, and I was feeling all sorts of things after I offered, and yet, you were there, reassuring me and telling me I didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to. You know Walburga, it wasn’t much of a choice for me, so it truly meant the world, and fed me the courage I needed to let you see that part of me. And when you two finally saw it and praised me for my skills, for what I did with my own hands… You make me so incredibly gleeful, it’s almost scary how much power you could hold over me. But frankly, I’ll let you hold it all you want. All right, enough of the sappy stuff, Merry Christmas Starshine, you know you shine brighter than my own star. Hope you like your gift. Love, Sirius

See the letter here

You read the letter a few more times, smiling at the little details and jokes Sirius had sprinkled all over. And then you pulled on the bit of tissue paper covering the very last thing in the box and when you finally saw its content you couldn’t help but swear again, “Son of a bitch!” you whispered.

There were still some small pieces of paper over the small portrait, and you carefully brushed them out to be able to lift it from the box. The image was a hand-drawn portrait of you. You had a big smile and were looking at what would be the camera if it were an image. It looked like it might have been from one of the pictures from Marlene’s party although Sirius had changed the outfit, you were wearing an oversized sweater and his leather jacket. You could tell it was his because it had one of the enamel pins you had gotten him as a gift on the lapel.

There were touches of colours in the strokes, not quite painting the drawing but rather giving it relatively bright edges that made it look special, unlike any other doodle. And of course, he had framed it, it was a simple yet elegant frame, dark oak and with small carved details on the sides. On the left bottom corner of the drawing, there was something written in French:

À l'étoile la plus brillante. Amour,

And then, instead of his name, he signed with a small and elegant star doodle. You smiled again, it was one of the loveliest things you’d ever gotten, even if it was a portrait of yourself, the fact that Sirius had been the one to draw it, made it the most special of things. There were portraits upon portraits of you in your house, with magic that allowed you to move and smile, and even talk sometimes, but none of them held as much value as the frozen drawing Sirius had given you.

Eventually, you placed it on your night table and picked up the last gift still sitting in your bed. His box was smaller than Sirius’, about the size of a book, which had you assumed he had gotten you something along the lines of that.

You opened the book and found a small, pocket-sized book. It was a Sreath Bàrdachd, according to the golden script at the top. You hadn’t quite realised as you pulled it from the box, but it was handmade. You looked at it in shock as you flipped to the 50+ pages, all in carefully and methodically written cursive, his handwriting.

Later you realised it was something between a book of poems and a compilation of quotes from different books. You admired the booklet for a few more minutes when you spotted that there was a small letter, still waiting for you inside the box. You pulled it off and broke the seal with a small sword letter opener Nox had given you as a gift.

As you did, a small chain fell from the letter and you picked it up. It was small and dainty, just long enough to wrap around your wrist, which made you wonder how he’d guessed the size. The chain was simple, and it broke off into two different sections, one with a small crescent moon and then another one with a small star. It also had one small gemstone in between the bigger charms. You looked at it with a smile and held it in your hand as you read the letter.

Hey there, Little Witch, Hope you’re having an incredible Christmas. By the time you read this, you’ve probably seen the Sreath Bàrdachd, and knowing how clever you are, you probably already know what that could mean. Yes, It’s a book of poems, but also a bit more than that. I knew Sirius was making you that incredible gift of his, and I didn’t want to fall behind. Prongs didn’t tell us what he got you but he seemed pretty confident he’d have the best gift of all. Did he? Never mind, don’t tell me, it’s a silly competition. Either way, I thought you might like having one of these. Mum used to have one, which is why I know they exist. She told me a good friend gave it to her and she has kept it ever since then. I remembered borrowing it from her once when I was little, and she taught me how to carefully flip through the pages as she read to me. She also mentioned it was a silly girl’s thing but I thought it was amazing, and went on to make my own. Although wonky and, with quotes from children’s books, she thought I was quite a mastermind for making it by myself. Of course, I put a lot more effort into the one you have with you now. Or perhaps the same effort but with better skills. If you’ve flipped through the pages, which I assume you have, since you’re incredibly curious, you’ve probably seen some familiar quotes. There’s stuff from books we’ve both read and stuff that only I have read but that I thought you might like. Some of my favourite poems too, and some quotes from movies that only you’d be able to get. There are even lyrics from songs, some that we really like, some that Sirius has heard so many times that I already knew them by memory, and since the two of you like similar music, I assumed you’d know them too. Also, there’s a small bracelet in the letter. I’ve cross-charmed it, in case you ever lose the Sreath Bàrdachd (I truly hope you never do), the gemstone will shine as you approach it. I’ve also added a few luck charms that, while they won’t keep you away from trouble –I don’t think anything could– they may give you some luck while navigating it. Don’t hit me for saying that, you know it’s true. Love, Moony. PS. Prongs told me about your little quarrel with Sirius on the platform, Sirius definitely misses you more.

See the letter here

By the time you finished Remus’ letter, you were smiling as brightly as you had when you read Sirius’. You were so lucky you had found such incredible people in Hogwarts. Your bedsheets filled with torn wrapping paper were a testament to that. You spend the rest of the afternoon listening to some more music and reading through the book Remus had made.

He had been especially careful with his handwriting which you thought was adorable, and there were a lot of quotes from Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Grey. He had written in pencil –so you could erase it if you wanted, not that you would– that it was your fault he was obsessed with his writing now. Taking poems and quotations from both, the book aforementioned and The Ghost of Canterville. You hadn’t read the latter yet, but you were almost counting the days to go back to school and ask him to lend you his copy.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and you had to leave the warm comfort of reading and listening to music in favour of changing into the clothes your mom had chosen for you. You sighed as the alarm clock you’d set earlier went off, and then went straight towards your closet. The dress she had picked was simple, yet elegant. It wasn’t a long dress like the one she’d probably wear, but a more youthful one with clever intricate details on the sleeves and a midi skirt.

“Thank god it has sleeves,” you whispered to yourself as you pulled the edge of the sleeve of Sirius’ shirt up. While your skin looked almost smooth, the lighter (almost silvery) shapes where the new skin was growing over the gush Moony had made were pretty evident. You supposed makeup and a spell could make them less visible, at least for a while, but that would have probably taken you a lot more time to achieve.

You plopped the black dress on, smoothing the sides as walking towards your vanity where your mum had left all the potions and make-up. You sighed, remembering how much more fun it had been to dress for the Gryffindor parties than it was to dress for this one. With the black dress and the pearls on your neck, you felt a lot more like you were about to walk into a funeral rather than a party. My own funeral, you thought with a laugh when you remembered whose house you’d actually be going to.

You grabbed a pair of red, not-too-high heels, put them on, and took another look in the large mirror by the window. You looked lovely, at least there would be no complaints from your parents on that aspect. What they might complain about was the fact that you took a bag with an undetectable extension charm and filled it with a few of the books you’d gotten as a Christmas gift. You also took the journal Lily had given you and Remus’ Sreath Bàrdachd. And you weren’t sure who’d be attending that party but you sure hoped you’d be able to sneak into a corner and read a book rather than having to interact with some of the most disagreeable friends of your parents.

“Sweetheart, are you ready?” your mom asked from the kitchen.

“Yeah, coming,” you said as you grabbed a few more trinkets and dumped them in your bag, just in case.

You were about to leave the room when you saw a small glistening thing in your bed and you went straight to grab it. It was the bracelet Remus had given you, and even if it took you a while to put it on, and you continued looking between your wrist and the door as you tried to get the clasp to do its job, you thought it was worth it. I could really use that extra luck. You thought. You accommodated the necklace Sirius had given you and that you never took off and then took off James’ potion and placed it on your bag since it might be safer there than around your neck.

One last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in order and you walked out towards the living room.

“You look delightful, darling,” your father said as he spotted you walking out of the room.

You gave him a half shrug in response and then managed to mutter a “thanks” that you hoped didn’t sound as bitter as it felt. After another moment of silence, your mom grabbed her bag and finished clipping on one of her earrings.

“We’ll take the floo?” you asked.

Your father shook his head, “They’ve sent over a Portkey,” your mom explained and motioned to the table, there was a small, fancy-looking invitation right in the middle.

“Nice,” you said as you used your wand to levitate the object and move it right in between your parents. Perhaps if it had been floo, you could have sneakily said James’ address instead of Evan’s and escaped the party altogether. Once there, your parents wouldn’t make a fuss about it in order to not make your insubordination evident. But of course, you weren’t that lucky, and you’d have to take the portkey and you’d have to go to the party.

“In three,” your father said as he moved his hand towards the invitation, “two… one… go.”

The three of you placed your hands on the invitation at the same time and you felt the very familiar pull on your lower back, in less than a second, the entire world distorted around you, and then, you weren’t in your house anymore.

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A/N: Aww that was so cute wasn't it? Now it's time to strap on, we're about to dive head-first into the darkest side of the story, and it's going to be fun and sad and just a rollercoaster of emotions in general. Love, Lils xx

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heartlesscorpse · 3 months

Text

Pyramid Head thoughts 2🩸🔪 △

MORE PYRAMID HEAD BRAINROT WOOHOOO— Hell yeah brother. Anyways OH MY GOD I was getting pissed off from this app bc I couldn’t edit this when I had it in my drafts for some strange reason BUT IT’S ALL WORKING FINE NOW. Yay. I’ve also been slowly chipping away at my Pyramid Head x reader recently for the past few weeks and it’s coming along smoothly (surprisingly), hopefully today or so it’ll all be finished and I can polish it for any mistakes or typos I accidentally made then it’ll be tossed onto AO3. :))))))

It’s difficult having to be roaming about Silent Hill knowing that he now has a companion of his own to keep company in this shit hole, it’s a nice thought but now there’s the hassle with keeping an eye on you at all times.

Man loves you but you gotta fuckin’ STOP disappearing from his sight whenever he looks away from you.

Stop getting into trouble damnit it’s a good thing he’d been stalking you the whole time but seriously you’re gonna give him a tiny heart attack if you keep doing this. >:(

This is why he ends up having to carry you around wherever he goes because you can’t slip out from his grasp and it’s easier this way to prevent you from running off.

Honestly, whenever Pyramid Head’s injured he’s not even gonna understand why you’re looking like you’re on the verge of bawling your eyes out.

‘Tis but a flesh wound’

But he’ll play along anyways if you were really worried and wanted to help him with injuries.

And he obviously enjoys the attention from you. :))

Cuddles 24/7, if you’re tired just take a break someplace safe and he’ll let you curl up in a ball in his hold, bc he absolutely adores having you in his arms.

Despite Pyramid Head not able to talk at all he does like hearing some of your rambles from time to time considering you’re the most talkative one between the both of you.

Pyramid Head likes giving you some small shiny little trinkets every now and then as small presents, bc you’re his and why the hell not shower you with some things every now and then?? He would’ve come back from patrolling around the town with some things like quarters, some pieces of jewelry, or weird little trinkets like teeth or small animal skulls, and those kinds of things if you’re into that.

He also likes receiving a few small gifts from you every now and then as well. Small things like little paper cranes or also some weird little trinkets you’ve been finding around Silent Hill, mainly bones, and you would craft into little charms. Gifts from either him or you would’ve all went into some ragged satchel you found so you could carry them with you at all times and you wouldn’t lose them.

🥩⋆♱✮♱⋆🔪 🩸

#pyramid head #dead’s dying #dead’s hcs #pyramid head x reader #slasher x reader #gn reader #fluffies #brainrot hrs

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molly-ghuleh · 5 months

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Ungrumpify Your Papa: Papa Emeritus II x afab!reader

Summary: It's your first holiday season with Secondo and you're determined to make him less of a grump.

Words: 6.9k (nice)

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI!!, reader is AFAB but there are no gendered words/pronouns, smut, fluff, lingerie, light dom!Secondo, teasing, brief mentions of overstimulation, holiday feelings, discussions of religion

AO3

A/N: Happy day 2 of the XXXMas at the Ministry series! Check out day 1 with Primo by @copias-sewer-rat in the links below, and stay tuned for day 3 with Terzo by @ghulehunknown and day 4 with Copia by @bupia (who also put together these incredible graphics)!!

Day 1 (Dec 20th): Naughty Presents (AO3)

Day 2 (Dec 21st): Ungrumpify Your Papa (you are here!)

Day 3 (Dec 22nd): Mistletoe'd (AO3)

Day 4 (Dec 23rd): Treasure Hunt (AO3)

Secondo is very particular about how he curates his living quarters. His taste is distinct and refined, but not to the point of tackiness. It’s obvious that he’d spent a non-trivial amount of time picking out his furniture after he became Papa, and even more time reorganizing his space to ensure you felt welcome after he’d asked you to move in with him. Every book, every pillow, every little trinket or decoration or memory has a dedicated place somewhere, and each piece is treasured and respected like it has belonged there for all of eternity.

So, you weren’t surprised when Secondo grumbled when you pulled out a red and gold plaid throw blanket for the holidays, but he’s gracious enough to allow it to live on the couch (so long as it is neatly folded after every use, of course). And you had to stifle your laugh when he’d come home to find a little mistletoe hanging from the threshold of his bedroom and had jumped nearly ten feet in the air thinking it was a spider.

He came to terms with the mistletoe, though, after realizing that every time he jumped when seeing it from his periphery, you’d come over and kiss him and remind him it was only temporary. He didn’t tell you that he’d let you keep the mistletoe up all year round if it gave him an excuse to kiss you more.

The tree you want, though… that’s another battle.

“Please?” You ask sweetly, snuggling with him under the aforementioned red and gold blanket.

“No, amore,” Secondo says.

You’re tracing gentle patterns into his bare chest and can feel his heartbeat under your fingertips. You watch as the soft, dark hair dusting his skin catches on your finger. “Explain to me your reasoning.”

Secondo chuckles—a low, deep sound that you can feel more than hear. “Must I explain myself past the fact that I simply do not want a tree?”

“But why?” You ask him. You lift yourself up onto an elbow and look down at him. The two of you had built a little nest of sorts in front of the fireplace in his sitting room. It’s the first night that the two of you, as well as the entire Abbey, are absolved from duties in a week-long observance of the solstice and Yule, and you had decided to spend it together, alone, and very naked.

Secondo sighs but there’s still a little smile on his face. He can’t help but adore you and your insistence. It seems to him that you’re determined to uproot his entire life. He would gladly shed his roots and the soil of comfort and routine they grow in if it meant seeing you happy, but where is the fun in that? He enjoys making you ask for what you want. He enjoys seeing you work for it. And, in some (most) instances, he enjoys pushing you until you resort to begging.

“Because,” Secondo begins, drawing you back down to lay your head on his warm chest, “there is no room for one. And we have nothing to put on it.”

You laugh. “This room alone is bigger than my old Sibling quarters. There’s plenty of space.”

“It could catch on fire.”

“Secondo, you don’t put a tree directly in front of the fireplace.”

“Well. Suppose there is an ember—“

“And,” you playfully cut him off. “We can find things to decorate it with. Warm lights, those red, wooden beads for a garland, little glass ornaments… It can be classy. We can make it match your taste.”

Your lover is silent for a moment, considering. “There would be pine needles everywhere.”

You laugh again. His tone of voice tells you that you’re close to cracking him. Oh, you’re well aware of the games he plays with you and take full part in them. The push and pull, the give and take of him letting you believe you’re in control and then showing you that this was his plan all along… even with something as mundane as a holiday tree, your heart speeds up and your face heats just slightly.

You’re still tired from the evening’s activities, after all.

“We can get a fake one,” you offer. “Small, too. Nothing unmanageable. And I’ll string the lights on it because it’s a pain in the ass.”

Secondo traces lines back and forth over your shoulder, tickling your skin. “You speak like the decision is already made, amore.”

“You haven’t given me a good enough reason to back down yet.”

He chuckles again. “Sto solo scherzando. Will it make you happy?”

You prop yourself up again and press a kiss to his lips. “It will,” you say softly. “But I don’t need a tree to make me happy. If you really don’t want one, we won’t have one.”

“You said it yourself,” Secondo says against your mouth, “that it is temporary. I will survive.”

You feel his mouth curl into a small smile against your own when you kiss him again. You’re sure yours must feel the same.

~~~

You and Secondo stroll leisurely through the rows of trees. The display is pretty, and nostalgic—it’s been staged to look like a small grove of real trees, with the stands cleverly hidden by piles of snow at the bases. Some of the trees are fully decorated, and some have only lights, but most are completely bare to emulate a tree farm. Somehow the staff had managed to make the display smell like pine and a hint of cinnamon, and if you close your eyes and listen to the winter breeze and the jingling of bells on the storefront door, it feels like a real tree farm.

“You know,” you say to Secondo as you stop in front of a tree with fake snow on it, “you never told me why you didn’t want a tree.”

Secondo regards the tree for a moment and, seeing how easily the fake snow flakes off of the limbs with just a slight breeze, gently tugs you towards the next one. “It is not necessarily the tree that I am opposed to,” he says. “But the commercialization of what is supposed to be a holiday.”

You’re silent for a moment as you think about his words. He does have a point. There are a fair few seasonal decorations that you find to be unbearably tacky, but the ones you do enjoy carry a warm nostalgia. “I see,” you muse. “For a while after I converted, it was hard to rationalize the holiday because it’s so ingrained in our culture to be a Jesus thing.”

“Esattamente,” Secondo nods. “Even though most of it is taken straight from Pagan traditions.”

You stop in front of a plain tree, not any taller than Secondo, with simple, warm white lights. “That helped me rationalize it,” you tell him. “To know that modern Christmas is an amalgam of different things, and that there’s no right way to celebrate it. It doesn’t make us bad Satanists because we have a tree, or bake cookies, or wrap gifts. There doesn’t have to be any religious undertone.”

“You are right,” Secondo says after a brief silence. “What is that term… when people use a word incorrectly enough times that the meaning changes.”

“Colloquialism?” you offer.

“SÌ. Christmas has become a colloquialism. Yule, Solstice, Saturnalia, Christmas, whatever you wish to call it.”

“Is that why you never celebrated?”

Secondo looks at you, and he nearly loses his breath. The sun is going down so the sky is a deep blue, leaving your face to be illuminated only by the warm white lights of the tree in front of you. You look so cozy in your hat and scarf and coat. And you’re trying to understand him, understand why he is not a ‘holiday’ person. How he adores you.

“To a degree,” he says, looking away because he’s dangerously close to swooping you into his arms and kissing you silly. “The holiday has lost all its meaning beyond materialism. That is the way it seems. Why should I need a holiday to tell me when to gift things to the people who matter?”

“You don’t, I suppose,” you shrug. “But it’s not completely about that. It’s the thought, the warmth, the togetherness. This time of year is when people want to feel cozy and comfortable and happy. To surround themselves with the people and things they love. It’s cold, and dark, and the holiday allows us to indulge in the things we might feel guilty about at any other time of year.”

Secondo listens to your voice, and he understands. “I feel a bit like Scrooge,” he says softly. And he does—a bitter old man, learning the true meaning of Christmas… or something.

“Which ghost am I?” You ask, laughing.

“You are Tiny Tim,” he replies without having to think. “Not a ghost, but I think the wisest character in the whole story.”

“Satan bless us,” you say in your best impression of a small child. “Every one.”

In the end, Secondo chooses the tree you’d been standing in front of. He tells you that it was because he likes that it’s small and simple (which is true), but he’d seen how your eyes reflected the small bulbs and decided he couldn’t let that evening be the last time he sees that.

You also purchase simple glass bulbs, a modest tree skirt, and a silver garland to match Secondo’s green and silver color scheme in his chambers. When you arrive back at the Abbey excited to decorate, however, you remember that you’d forgotten to choose a topper. While he has his back turned to pour the two of you some hot chocolate, you sneak to the closet which houses his papal robes, and when he turns around, he finds his mitre situated crookedly atop the tree and your smug face pretending you don’t know how it got there.

“It is lopsided,” Secondo hums, handing you your mug.

“It has character,” you counter. You hide your smile behind the steaming hot chocolate.

Secondo smiles, too.

~~~

After the tree debacle, you wonder how far into the holiday spirit you can drag Secondo. You aren’t determined to make him the embodiment of Santa Claus, but you hope to ease his grumpiness. And honestly, it isn’t just the holiday that you want him to enjoy, it’s the whole season. Winter is cold and dark and oftentimes miserable, yes, but it doesn’t have to be. Not when you have someone to come home to after years of spending it alone.

So you suggest cookies. Because I love sugar cookies, you explain when Secondo asks. And Copia has a sweet tooth. And we need something to bring to dinner with your family.

Not at all because watching Secondo in the kitchen gets you going like nothing else.

You sit at the small table in his kitchen, watching him move. He’d shooed you out of the way after scolding you for suggesting you use a premade mixture of Betty Crocker sugar cookies, insisting that if you must make cookies, you will at least do it right. But how can you stay away from him when he looks like that?

He’s wearing his apron (which is, in and of itself, an incredible turn-on). The sleeves of his button-up shirt are rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his muscular forearms. And his hands, oh, his hands, are bare and flexing, kneading the dough as he mixes flour in pinch by pinch. The veins in his arms are highlighted in the overhead kitchen lights. His shoulders stretch and move, pulling the fabric of his shirt tight against his back again and again.

Sweet Satan, give me strength, you think. And Satan, ever the purveyor of sin and temptation, strips all the strength from your mind and whispers in your ear to go to him.

So you do. You quietly slip out of your chair and approach Secondo, taking in his perfect form. His broad shoulders, the slight pooch to his sides, his ass which is hugged so perfectly in his trousers, his hands kneading the dough ball like they knead the flesh of your thighs, your chest, your belly, your rear. Your hands slip around his middle and you press yourself against his back. You feel him pause.

“Amore,” Secondo says softly and you’re not exactly convinced that he’s chiding you. “You are a terrible distraction. Come faccio a cuocere questi biscotti con te che mi tenta?”

You trace your hands up his stomach to his chest, relishing in his warmth. There’s probably flour on your hands and forearms and all over his apron, but you don’t care. “Can you blame me? You know very well what watching you in the kitchen does.”

“SÌ, I do, my dove,” Secondo hums. His hands are still now. He closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of your palms brushing up and down his body. Yes, he knows quite well what he’s doing to you. He’d be a liar if he said his insistence to bake the cookies from scratch was entirely innocent. But he supposes you know that. “Tell me, amore. If I were to turn around and lift you up onto this counter and spread your legs, what would I find, hm?”

Instead of answering him, you trail your hands back down from his chest, over his tummy, and down to the crux between his legs and pelvis, resting your palms there and squeezing lightly. You can already feel the stretching fabric of his trousers and know that if he turned around to make good on his promise, you would find him hard and aching. He heaves a trembling breath at your movements. It’s likely that he will punish you for this later, but is it really a punishment if it’s what you desire most?

It’s not often that Secondo allows you to take control like this. Even if it’s just a small movement, a little caress of his arousal, he’s quick to pull your hands away and make sure you find your pleasure first. But slowly, his hands begin to work into the dough once more, and he makes no further comment. Your own hands find the button of his trousers and tug it open.

“Amore,” Secondo hums in warning when your fingers brush along the length of him over the fabric of his pants.

In a stroke of confidence (and maybe a touch of curiosity as to what might happen if you poke the sleeping bear), you reach down his front to grasp him over his briefs. It’s only for a moment before you’re withdrawing your hand and fumbling his button closed again. You press a kiss between his shoulder blades and step away. “Sorry, love. Cookies take precedence.”

Then, you’re pressed against the kitchen table, your wrists pinned beside your head as Secondo looms over you and presses his hips to your own. His breath is hot and his voice is low in your ear as he speaks. “You know very well that I would ravish you right now,” he growls, rutting his hips forward to spread your thighs even further. You can feel just how honest he’s being and you sigh with the contact. “If it were not for this dinner… this cena maledetta…”

There’s flour all over your clothes from his apron pressing against your front. The tip of his nose traces a path up from the sensitive skin below your ear, across your cheekbone, to rest against yours. His lips brush your own as he speaks. “Do not think I do not know what you are doing.”

“I know you know,” you say, your voice sultry. You arch your back up off the tabletop and press your chest into his. “That’s why I do it.”

“Sei una tentazione,” Secondo whispers. “Perché devi essere così allettante quando non posso averti?”

Your jaw slacks open when he presses his hips even harder against yours. He takes the opportunity to lean in and nip at your lower lip, tracing his tongue along it and tugging. “One day,” you gasp when he pulls away, “I will understand when you say such filthy things to me in Italian.”

“You tell me that not knowing is a thrill.”

“Oh, it is. But sometimes I wish I could understand what depraved things you’ll do.”

“Let me put it plainly, then,” Secondo says. He takes the shell of your ear between his teeth and squeezes your wrists just a bit tighter. Your thighs lift as he presses himself against you completely. “We are going to make these cookies. We are going to Terzo’s dinner party. And we are going to stay for however long is acceptable before I take you back here and punish you for teasing me.”

“Yes, Papa.”

~~~

Oh, you hate him.

Not for last night when he’d punished you, no. You very much do not hate him for that. You’d gone to bed with trembling legs after he had to help you to the shower. He compared you to a newborn deer but held you steady as you wobbled, and then gave you one last orgasm in the warm water before the two of you retired to bed.

Rather, you hate him because he’d been waiting for a reason to punish you last night. He’d been searching for an excuse to make you fall off the edge of the world, more than a few times over, because he’d planned to take you and your wobbly legs surprise ice skating the next morning and thought it would be funny to watch you scramble.

“I hate you,” you grumble as you cling to his hand with a vice-like grip. “I hate you and your stupid memory.”

Secondo laughs quietly and supports your weight. You almost lose balance when he leans down to speak lowly in your ear, but he keeps you upright. “I did not hear you saying that last night when I remembered where to touch to make you–”

“Alright, alright,” you interrupt, your face heating. “But last night I didn’t think I had to tell you to take it easy so I could stand upright today.”

“That is the fun of it, amore. Seeing you wobble, knowing I did this.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “How is your ass? Sore?”

“From you spanking it or from falling on it four times?” You ask.

“Either way,” Secondo stands up straight again, “I suppose the answer is the same.”

You huff. “I used to be able to do spins as a kid,” you tell him. “And now I can barely stand on skates because of you and your fingers and your tongue and your little Secondino.”

“He is not very little though, is he?” Secondo asks, and you could smack him if he wasn’t completely right. You’re wobbly because he’s not little in the slightest.

You’re grateful, though. You’d mentioned how you used to go ice skating as a child, and how you haven’t in a very long time. In previous relationships, that was that. You would mention something you miss, or an activity you used to love, and that would be the end of it. But with Secondo, dear, attentive, lovely, grumpy Secondo, it’s different. You feel heard for the first time in your life. And that might be terribly cheesy, but it’s true. He does more for you than the absolute bare minimum you’d grown to expect from partners and you feel positively spoiled. If you can give him even half of the happiness he gives you, you’re happy. You would give him the world and the sun and the moon if you could.

Secondo notices your silence and squeezes your hand, warm and cozy in the gloves Terzo had gifted you at his dinner last night. “Where did you go, dove?”

“Sorry,” you shake yourself from your reverie and blink away the sudden tears of gratitude and affection. “I just love you. Thank you for taking me skating.”

“You’re welcome. Anch’io ti amo.”

Eventually you find your sea legs and show him the (very basic) spins you know how to do. You manage not to fall on your ass a fifth time. And then you begin to seethe because, of course, Secondo is perfectly balanced and graceful and can skate like he was born on the ice. Your poised Papa is always so composed and you feel like, as he’d said, a newborn deer perpetually falling.

You hate him, but that doesn’t stop the heat from building in your lower belly. Again.

~~~

The next day is the Ministry’s observed holiday. Most of the Abbey’s residents choose to spend it honoring the Olde One in sin with loved ones—eating, drinking, laughing, fucking. You and Secondo are no different, having celebrated the holiday with family and friends at Terzo’s dinner two days prior.

That was the intention of hosting a dinner two days before the holiday. So that one might be able to honor Satan and the unholy observance without having to worry about family coming.

You are absolutely not complaining. You spend the morning sleeping in, held in Secondo’s strong, warm embrace. When you wake, there’s no rush to get out of bed. He apologizes for your sore (and slightly fall-bruised) ass by rubbing and kneading it with gentle hands, pressing kisses down your spine with no sense of urgency or implication of more. You want there to be more, but you have something planned for later.

You aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to wait for later to arrive.

In the weeks leading up to the holiday, he’d told you not to worry about finding a gift for him. He said that you are enough, that spending time with you and just seeing you is enough of a gift. That you’d somehow managed to soothe the harshness in his soul. In his Secondo way of saying those things, which is less sappy. But you know that the sap was there, so you found a gift for him anyway.

The gift, of course, is something practical and utilitarian. Fit for Secondo’s taste but not something he already has. Something you know for a fact he’ll enjoy.

That’s the list of things you’d written in your head when debating whether or not to buy the expensive, green satin lingerie with silver buckles. And of course, you needed a robe to hide it with so he can unwrap his gift.

Although neither of you want to get up from the cozy cocoon of bedsheets you’re tangled in, your stomach begins to growl for breakfast.

“Hungry?” Secondo asks from where his face is nestled against your neck.

“Very,” you say, and make no move to get up. Neither does he.

Your stomach growls again.

“Hush,” Secondo says softly. “I am comfortable.”

After the third growl, you laugh, and Secondo pushes himself off of you to sit upright. “Coffee?”

“Please,” you nod.

When Secondo stands to walk into the kitchen, shirtless and practically glowing in the morning sun coming through the windows, you decide that later can come whenever you like. He can spend all day and night unwrapping his gift over and over and over if he wishes to. You can’t bear to wait.

You slip away with the box containing your robe and underthings and lock yourself in the bathroom. It takes you a few tries to align the straps correctly so you can slip your head and arms through where they’re supposed to go, but the lower portion is more straightforward. The set is simple once it’s situated correctly. There’s a strip of fabric leading up the middle of your chest and around your neck, clasped at the front with a silver buckle, not entirely unlike a collar. The thin straps accentuate your chest and shoulders while still leaving most of your skin exposed for Secondo to leave marks on. The bottoms are strappy as well, with an attached garter belt secured with two silver buckles matching the one on your neck. Observing yourself in the mirror, you feel powerful. You know exactly what this will do to Secondo, and do for him. You feel powerful in the knowledge that you are about to allow him to overpower you.

You only hope the lingerie doesn’t get ripped in the process.

You slip the robe over your shoulders and close it, offering only a peek of the fabric around your neck, and fix your bedhead before exiting the bathroom. You stride into the kitchen like absolutely nothing has changed and find Secondo, gathering ingredients for breakfast and still shirtless. If you hadn’t changed into the set you’re wearing already then you would turn tail and do it now.

But, you steel yourself and enter the kitchen, making a beeline for your favorite mug which he’d filled with coffee. “Thank you, love,” you say softly. You lean against the counter and take a sip. It’s delicious but you couldn’t care less about the coffee right now.

“Amore,” Secondo says lowly once he catches a glimpse of your new robe and the fabric peeking out underneath. “What is this?”

He raises his finger to trace along the strip of fabric running down your chest until it disappears under the robe. “You said not to get anything for you,” you tell him, trying to act like the simple touch isn’t burning your skin. “But, did you really expect me not to?”

“Sathanas, you are sent to me by the Devil himself,” Secondo groans. He takes your mug of coffee from you and places it on the counter. “How must I wait until we have eaten when you…”

You gently take his other hand and intertwine your fingers. It’s not often that Secondo has no words. Your heart pounds in your chest and you’re sure he can feel it beneath his fingertips. “Don’t wait, then,” you say.

Slowly, Secondo traces his hand down your chest, over your sternum and towards your navel where your robe is tied closed. He pulls on the end and the robe falls open, revealing the set of lingerie adorning your skin. You feel his hot, shaky breath fan across your face as he takes in the sight of you. As if in reverence, he gently pushes the robe off your shoulders. It falls at your heels and you’re left bare in front of him, skin hot yet somehow covered in goosebumps. “Sathanas,” he curses again, thanking his maker for you.

Secondo places his hands on your waist and draws you towards him. Your own hands rise to his chest and you find that his heart is beating just as quickly as yours. Your lips meet somewhere in the middle, warm and desperate and passionate. He kisses you like it’s the last time, but also like you’re made of glass. Like he wants to ravage you and worship you at the same time but can’t decide. His tongue licks into your mouth, tracing your bottom lip. He tastes like coffee and Secondo.

You nearly stumble when he begins to push you but you quickly understand his mission. His hands guide you out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom, walking you backwards while his lips never leave your own. “Sathanas,” he groans a third time. He can’t think of anything but you, the feel of you, the taste of you, the sight of you. The only word from his mouth is a prayer at your altar.

Secondo guides you until the backs of your legs hit the mattress, and then he lifts you onto the bed, crawling over you like a predator taunting his prey. Your thighs part on instinct to welcome his body between them. The cool air of the room reaches your aching arousal and you realize that you’re already embarrassingly wet.

His hands slide up and down your sides, to your hips, the tops of your thighs. He traces his fingers over the fabric of the garter belt, snapping the strap against your skin and smirking at the sound. “You are sin,” he growls as he leans down to latch his lips to your neck. “I need you.”

“Take me,” you moan, and your voice comes out more desperate than you intend for it to, but you’re past the point of caring. You want him to know that you need him, too. “Please, Papa. I’m yours.”

Secondo’s mouth trails down your chest, leaving wet kisses and little marks as you’d predicted (and hoped). He finds the hard peak of your nipple through the thin satin and lathes his tongue over it, eliciting another moan from your lips. “Say it again for me, amore. Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Papa,” you breathe as his teeth gently bite down on your covered nipple. “I belong to you. Only you.”

“Guisto. You are mine and mine alone.”

His mouth moves to your other nipple and, as if to accentuate his statement, he gives it a harder nip. You gasp at the sensation and arch your back into his mouth. “Papa…”

“Hm?” Secondo hums, and the vibrations make you moan once more. “What is it, tesoro?”

You know very well that he knows what you want, but you also know that he wants to hear you say it. “Please, your mouth,” you gasp. Your hands clutch at his shoulders and give an almost imperceptible push downwards. “I want your mouth, Papa, please.”

Secondo licks a path down your midsection. “Già così disperato per me,” he mumbles against the skin just above the garter belt. His lips blaze a path along the strip of fabric, and for the first time you wish it was gone. You’ve had your fill, he’s seen it all, and seen you in it. It can go away now. But, he takes mercy on you, and kisses his way to your pubic mound, also covered by the cursed fabric.

“Oh, amore, you are already dripping for me. I wonder if I can make you cum without taking these off, sì? They are already ruined, what is a little more?”

Secondo places a light kiss over your wetness through the fabric and your hips twitch upwards. Immediately his hands wrap around your thighs and grasp your hips, stilling you. “None of that,” he chides you, and repeats the kiss. You bite your lip to stifle your noises. That earns you a light slap on the outside of your thigh, and you gasp. “None of that either. I want to hear you.”

He licks a broad stripe up the entire length of your slit, humming as he does. Your hips twitch again but they can’t move in his firm grip. Your hands grip the bedsheets as you gasp. “Papa!”

You’re already so worked up that you feel your orgasm beginning to build in your lower belly. His tongue traces slow circles around your clit, sometimes dipping to press at your entrance but never straying for long. The fabric is practically plastered to the form of your core, but it’s not quite enough. It’s thin but it dampens the sensations of his mouth against your flesh just enough for your orgasm to elude you.

“P-Papa, please,” you pant. Your hand finds the back of his head to press him harder to you, but it’s still not enough. “Please, I need more. I’m so close, please…”

“Look at me, dove,” Secondo commands, and you obey. His cheeks are flushed and you can just barely see the shine of your wetness on the tip of his nose. “Look at me as I help you cum.”

He snakes one hand back towards your entrance and lightly presses there, then slowly works his middle finger under the fabric to dip into you. It’s frustratingly shallow, just to the first knuckle, but he knows you’re most sensitive there. His tongue flicks faster on your clit, still covered by the satin yet completely drenched, and you cum. “Papa!”

Your entrance clenches rhythmically around the tip of his finger. He growls and shoves the crotch of your panties to the side, latching his lips around your clit and sucking just as he pushes his finger deep into you. He finds the spot only he knows exists and you see stars as your first orgasm gives way to another, more powerful climax. You tumble down the side of a mountain of pleasure on his tongue and scream.

Secondo works you through the intense pleasure until the aftershocks roll pleasantly up and down your limbs, and your hips twitch up from oversensitivity. He pulls away and licks his lips. “Perfezione,” he says softly, crawling back up your body until he can kiss you properly. “Così perfetto per me. Così forte quando mi vieni sulla lingua.”

You can taste yourself on his tongue. His hands softly stroke up and down your thighs, easing the trembling there. You sling your arms around his shoulders and pull him down so that his chest rests against yours. “Do you like your gift?” you ask when you’ve finally caught your breath again.

“Sempre,” Secondo hums. “Every time I touch you is a gift, amore.”

You lean up to kiss him again, because you don’t want to sully the heat and passion between you by crying at his sudden tenderness. “Let me make you feel good, too,” you whisper against his mouth.

When your hands begin to wander downwards, Secondo rises onto his knees and grasps your wrists firmly. The position mirrors the one you’d found yourself in two days prior, after the cookie incident, and your core clenches around nothing. “All I want is to be inside you,” Secondo growls. The tenderness is replaced by a fiery passion behind his eyes, and his grip on your wrists leaves no room for debate on who is in charge now. You’ve ensnared him with your gift, now he gets to unwrap it.

“Please,” you whimper. “Please, Papa.”

Secondo hastily pulls his sleep pants off and his cock bounces up against his lower stomach. You wish so desperately that you could touch him, trace the trail of dark hair from his chest all the way down to the base of him, but he still has your hands beside your head. “Stay just like this for me, sì?” he asks, but you know it’s not a question and you nod. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your ruined underwear and tugs. “Up.”

You lift your hips and he slides the soaked fabric down your legs and tosses it aside. Your hands, now unrestrained, itch to touch him. “Can I touch you?” you ask, your voice breathy and desperate. You’re hoping he allows it, because if he really didn’t want you to move, there are cuffs in his bedside table that he could have easily used to hold your arms above your head.

“Not yet, amore. You are doing so well for me.”

You whine, but stay still. Secondo parts your thighs again and slots himself between them. The tip of his cock brushes against your swollen clit and you gasp, rutting your hips upward to seek more. But he doesn’t enter you, not yet. You know what he’s waiting for.

“Please, Papa,” you say, canting your hips upward once more to accentuate your words. “I want to feel you, please.”

“Bene,” Secondo hums. “Così buono per me.”

Secondo positions the head of his cock at your entrance, and pushes in slowly. Your back bows off the mattress and you sigh. “Oh, thank you, thank you…”

Inch by thick, delicious inch, Secondo enters you until your hips press together and you can feel the tip of him nudging at your cervix. When he’s fully inside you, he pauses, giving you time to breathe and adjust to his size. You hold his gaze as he strokes your thighs, soothing you, urging you to relax around him. “You may touch me,” he says.

You bring your hands to the skin below his navel to trace along the strip of hair. Usually you like to kiss your way down, leaving little love bites along his happy trail, but both of you had been so desperate for this closeness that you couldn’t prolong the process. His muscles jump and twitch under your light touches. Slowly, you slide your palms up to rest on the sides of his neck and draw him down to kiss you. The shift in angle makes his cock move inside you and he brushes against the spot his middle finger had found just minutes ago, making you clench around him. He groans into your mouth at the sensation.

“Are we going ice skating again tomorrow?” You ask.

Secondo huffs a laugh. “No, amore. I plan to make your legs wobble without having to worry about a sore ass.”

You laugh with him and kiss him once more, then roll your hips against his. “Good.”

He grips you by the hips and begins to thrust shallowly in and out of you. The drag of his cock is divine inside you, and yes, your legs will very much be wobbling tomorrow because you intend to spend all day like this and it is barely breakfast. Your head falls down against the mattress and exposes your neck, yet devoid of marks, to Secondo. And who is he to pass up an opportunity like that?

His lips descend on your pulse point just as he increases his pace. This angle again makes his cock brush against the tender spot on your inner walls and it rips a moan from your throat.

“Sì, amore, let me hear you. Let me hear how I make you feel.”

“Ah, it’s so—so good, Papa, you feel so good inside me—”

Secondo increases his speed again. His teeth gently dig into the skin of your neck and you clench around him, making him growl into your ear. “My little devil,” he rasps. “Who do you belong to? Tell me again.”

“You, Papa! I’m yours!”

“Yes—ah, yes, you are mine. Only mine. Only I can take you like this, capisci? O-only I can make you feel this pleasure.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind you register that Secondo is being particularly vocal this time. His eyes never stray from yours, but his hands are everywhere—your hips, your thighs, your stomach, your chest. His fingers briefly dip into your mouth and you willingly accept them, lathing your tongue over them and tasting the remnants of your juices on his skin. His hips snap against your own, over and over and over, increasing in pace until you bounce back and forth on his cock in time with his thrusts.

With the fingers now covered in your saliva, Secondo brings his fingers directly to your oversensitive clit. Your hands clench onto any part of him you can reach, your fingernails scratching his skin and leaving red trails raised in their wake. You aren’t sure if you’re screaming or completely silent with the overwhelming pleasure. But your eyes feel magnetized to his own, like if you were to look away, the spell would break and the pleasure that’s building between you would dissipate entirely.

“P-Papa,” You gasp, breathless. “I–I’m—”

“Sì, amore mio. Cum around my cock. Cum for me.”

His desperate, almost animalistic command, paired with his fingers abusing your clit and his cock splitting you open so perfectly, send you hurtling over the edge of your climax and your vision goes white. Your entire being, your entire consciousness is centered between your legs and wherever he touches. The rest of you falls away into bliss as Secondo thrusts into you through your orgasm.

You’re still riding the tidal waves of pleasure when Secondo finds his own release, spilling inside you and slowing his thrusts until eventually he stills against you. As your awareness fades back in and your orgasm ebbs away, you realize that your legs are trembling, but so are his. Your chests heave together as you catch your breath. You relish in the warm weight of him on top of you and inside of you, tracing your fingertips up and down his spine.

When he manages to steady himself enough to hold his weight on his arms, Secondo pushes himself up just enough so he can plant soft, tender kisses against your lips. “Amore mio,” he mumbles reverently, “Sei la luce della mia vita.”

“I love you,” you respond just as softly. Though you don’t (yet) understand what he said, you can feel the weight of his words in your heart. He isn’t the type to deliver flowery speeches or long-winded declarations of love, but you know he feels it for you, as you do for him. The two of you don’t need words. It shines through the string lights on the tree in the living room. It wafts through the air on the scent of freshly baked sugar cookies. It follows you in the sound of skates sliding in tandem atop the frozen lake, and in the pleasured cries echoing in the walls of the bedroom.

Your stomach growls, and you feel the rumble of Secondo’s laugh deep in your chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

Amore - love

Sto solo scherzando - I'm only joking

Esattamente - exactly

Come faccio a cuocere questi biscotti con te che mi tenta? - How am I supposed to bake these cookies with you tempting me?

cena maledetta - cursed dinner

Sei una tentazione...Perché devi essere così allettante quando non posso averti? - You are a temptation...why must you be so tempting when I cannot have you?

Anch’io ti amo - I love you too

Giusto - Right

Tesoro - treasure, sweetheart

Già così disperato per me - Always so desperate for me

Perfezione - Perfection

Così perfetto per me. Così forte quando mi vieni sulla lingua - So perfect for me. So loud when you cum on my tongue

Sempre - always

Così buono per me - So good for me

Capisci - Understood

Sei la luce della mia vita - You are the light of my life

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist (from my Camellia fic, I hope that's okay!): @bonelessghoul @gbatesx @the-did-i-ask @leah-halliwell92 @archive-obsess @rosacrose @sodoswitchimage @portaltothevoid @lightbluuestars @thesoundresoundsecho @stephnthangss @enchantedbunny @jackson5611-blog @copiasprincipessa @kadedoesthings @justheretoreadleavemealone @tiedyedghoulette @honimello @deetz-ghuleh @da-rulah @nijiru

#xxxmasattheministry #merryghostmas #merryghostmas2023 #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus ii #secondo #secondo emeritus #papa secondo #secondo smut #secondo x reader #papa emeritus smut #papa secondo x reader #secondo x afab!reader #ghost band smut

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ohthewh0rror · 7 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE: DATING HEADCANONS

A/N: if you’re looking for a “bad boy” with behavioral issues, but none of the homicidal tendencies, look no further than Tom Riddles son! (Or in some cases his brother, an idea I still don’t understand)

Honestly he flirts with you at first as a joke.

Which sounds bad! I know! But he wasn’t doing it to make fun of you. He’s a flirt, that’s just who he is, it’s harmless fun.

That’s the dynamic for a while: the whole annoying classmate and/or housemate that teases you who you say you can’t stand but are sad when they aren’t in class.

Once he does start to develop a crush on you, the teasing let’s up, and he starts just having genuine conversations with you.

You think this is him losing interest in you, so imagine your surprise when he says, “you know you’re my girlfriend, right?”.

And that was the start of the relationship!

Let’s get real here: Mattheo would not be a “bad boy 🥰”. He’s a boy with serious authority and anger issues. The childhood trauma this boy has from having Voldemort as his father is through the fucking roof.

The relationship is very fragile, it’s a on-again-off-again type of relationship for a long time.

One minute he’s the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, and the next you’re screaming at him to get away from you because of something he’s said or done.

It always ends the same: you ignore each other for a while, no one apologizes, and then one day Mattheo will start talking to you again like the argument 2 weeks ago didn’t happen. Now you’re back together.

This relationship is never going to last though unless Mattheo can work through his personal problems.

Mattheo wouldn’t be a bad ex to have, unless you two ended on a bad note. Mattheo enjoys ruining other people’s life/day for fun, and he will do the same to you if you crossed him in some way.

On a good note!! Let’s get the sweet side of him:

Loves to play with your hair. Takes the ends of your hair and twirls them around his finger.

Gets you things he thinks you would like, even if it’s just a little trinket he saw while out at Hogsmeade, he will buy it and bring it back to you saying he has a surprise for you.

Loves to situate himself between your legs, resting his head on you, his cheek squished against your chest as you run your nails lightly across his upper back.

Helps you study by making up ridiculous games to play using cards. It also helps take your mind off the nervousness you may have about said test.

If you’re having a bad day he won’t hesitate to sweep his thumb under your eyes, wiping the tears away and pulling you in for bone crushing hug.

Has no problem letting you cry it out on his shoulder, and honestly gives you great advice, no matter your situation.

Is always on your side!! Literally your #1 supporter.

Even when you two are on a break and you’re not speaking to each other, he will not let anyone disrespect you. Any hateful word uttered about you is met with him smashing said persons face in.

Mattheo takes care of your needs first in bed. Makes you cum before he’ll fuck you.

It doesn’t matter if he has to finger you, eat you out, etc. he’ll do it every time if it’ll get you off.

Loves aftercare, is very touchy after the fact, and it’s why (contrary to popular belief) he’s not the biggest fan of quickies.

Might call you a ‘bitch’ and a ‘whore’ in bed, but never outside of that.

He refers to you as “my girl” to his friends, but uses pretty generic pet-names to your face.

Will refer to you as his “sweet girl” even if you’re an absolutely terrible human being!!

Because to them you may be awful, but to him you’re the best things that’s ever walked earth.

Marriage/Father bonus:

First of all: doesn’t want kids.

You two probably won’t have kids because he’d be very cautious.

But!!! If you two did have an accidental baby, he’d be a girl dad.

Though he didn’t want kids at first, he is a good dad in the end. Well, as good as someone with his trauma can be.

Tries to be the father that his wasn’t.

You two get married either way!! It’s your dream wedding, he will spare no expenses for you. If it makes you happy, he’ll find a way to make it happen.

#this is not proof read so if there mistakes #I’ll just have to fix them later #anyway #love our residential bad boy #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you

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scribbling-dragon · 3 months

Text

a gift, from me to you

summary:

“Pray tell, then, what is it you want me to do?” “I want you to make this.” The Sheriff taps on the design detailing the measurements and everything else he wants. “Please,” he adds, seemingly remembering his manners. “Mm.” Scott pretends to consider it. “I’ll see what I can do for you, lover boy.” [Or: Jimmy gets a hat for Tango]

(ao3 link)

(5,157 words)

Jimmy pauses, frowning as the sound of shouting outside only continues to increase in volume. He had hoped that ignoring it for this long would be enough for the simmering flame of a fight to die down. That fight has apparently sparked into a blaze, as a fourth voice joins the fray.

He casts a mournful glance over towards Tango, hoping that his partner and newly promoted second-Sheriff might take initiative and attempt to solve the problem.

“I'm not their beloved Sheriff,” Tango says, not even looking up – he’s not even doing work! He’s tinkering with some little…metal thing, poking and prodding at it.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to,” Tango glances up at him for a moment, eyes alight with amusement as he takes in Jimmy’s appearance. He looks back down a second later, pulling a copper-redstone wire between his claws, before poking around in the metal thing’s insides.

…Maybe it’s better for his safety to go and defuse the argument. Outside. Away from the potentially explosive trinket that Tango has brought to their office this time.

He sighs and stands up, feeling far more tired than he reasonably should be – the sun is only beginning to descend from its zenith and the cooler air should make him feel more energetic.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he fumbles around, reaching for his hat where he’d tossed it off earlier. Only to frown as his hand comes up empty, landing on cool wood instead. He turns his head, already frowning as he tries to figure out which corner of his desk he tossed his hat onto this time.

It’s not there.

He stands there for longer than he’d like to admit to, simply staring at his empty desk – okay, maybe not empty with all the clutter littering his desk. But he can find everything! It’s an organised chaos, and sure, things go missing temporarily but he always manages to find it in the end.

The shouting outside reaches a new peak, and there’s the sound of something heavy being overturned.

“Tango, have you seen my hat?” his voice comes out a little bit panicked, mostly because there seems to be actual destruction going on outside, but also partially because his hat has gone missing. What is a Sheriff without their hat? Not a Sheriff at all, that’s what!

“Mm.” Tango still sounds amused, which isn’t unusual but is maybe a little inappropriate right now. Another thing crashes and he winces. “Why don't you tell me?” Tango’s voice is pleased, something that makes Jimmy’s sixth sense (specifically related to Tango and him doing something that he shouldn’t be) light up, prickling along the back of his neck.

He turns back to face Tango. Tango, who is still tinkering away with his little trinket, poking around in its insides. Tango, who is currently wearing his hat.

“Ah,” he frowns. His hat is a little too big for Tango’s head, and he’s got it tipped too far forward so the brim is drooping over most of his face. “Can I have it?”

Tango tilts his head back, far enough that he looks like he’s going to tip out of his chair. The sounds of destruction outside have died down for now, at least. He’s still anxious to get out there and resolve whatever petty conflict escalated this far.

“Please,” he adds, noticing Tango’s raised eyebrow.

“Of course, dearest.” Tango says, but he doesn’t offer the hat out for him. Nor does he take it off. “Can’t have the darling Sheriff spotted without his hat, hm?”

Tango’s eyes shine teasingly, and Jimmy understands just what Tango is angling for as he steps forward and that pleased grin curls up even further. He sighs, shaking his head in fond amusement as the sounds of argument die down into a more civil discussion. He still needs to figure out what they’ve managed to damage, unfortunately, even if they seem to have resolved the argument by themselves.

“Thank you,” he plucks the hat from Tango’s head, completely missing when tango snakes his arms out, wrapping around his waist and pulling him forward. That, coupled with Tango’s tail wrapping tightly around his legs means he almost falls directly onto his partner.

“They’ve resolved it themselves,” Tango tells him, even as Jimmy rights the hat on his head. Where it belongs. He continues to hold onto him, thumbs resting just above his hip bones, trinket seemingly forgotten about, discarded on Tango’s desk. “There’s no point in running out there and demanding answers, hm?”

“I need to find out what they were tossing about. And why.”

He doesn’t even bother to try and free himself from Tango’s grip. The man is like an overly clingy octopus on some days, reluctant to release Jimmy and let him go about his day without a shadow following his every footstep. He had thought today was one of the days where Tango seemed to forget anyone else existed other than him, but he seemed to just be biding his time until Jimmy got close enough to be captured.

He sighs, though he cannot deny it’s overwhelmingly fond. If any of their friends were here right now, Jimmy is certain they’d be gagging and turning away, as though they were doing something far worse than hugging.

“C’mon, I’ll be back in a second.”

Tango pauses for a moment, then hums once and releases him.

“There, see? Look, I’ll even give this to you to look after until I'm back.”

Before he can think any further on it, before he can think enough to decide it’s actually a bad idea, he takes his hat off again and plonks it onto Tango’s head. He then turns and escapes the office as fast as he can, ignoring Tango’s confused little sound and resisting the urge to look back and see what expression he’s pulling.

He then gives in and sneaks a glance.

Okay, maybe giving the hat back was more for his own benefit than Tango’s. Sue him! He didn’t realise that Tango actually suited a hat, alright?! How could he, when the only time Tango has worn a hat before was in the dark, and Jimmy was far too preoccupied with getting said hat back from his partner’s sticky fingers.

His eyes linger a little longer than appropriate on Tango before he forcefully turns himself around and marches into the street to sort out whatever stupid, petty argument someone’s had today. One that warranted shoving someone’s cart hard enough to topple the whole thing over.

His heart isn’t really in reprimanding them, even if they look like a pair of guilty children than have been found painting the walls. Instead, he’s far more focused on the beginnings of an idea that are coming together in his mind.

===

Scott appreciates the quiet nights. The ones that have plenty of patrons, but none of his more rowdy ones. The ones that like to cause trouble, the ones that come here looking for trouble. Most of them have been identified and given to the staff so they know to be wary when those customers come knocking.

He could just outright ban him – the Sheriff has pleaded with him several times to just ban them rather than forcing him to ride all the way from the mesa because they’ve decided to start a fight and Scott cannot be bothered to sort it himself. But a paying customer is a paying customer, and most of them have the good decency to go outside before they start fighting, greatly reducing his expenses for replacing broken glasses.

Perhaps it was his own fault for even daring to utter ‘quiet’ in the privacy of his own mind. Maybe there’s some god out there that read his thoughts and decided to shove this particular problem in his direction, for him to deal with, just for the gall to enjoy a nice, slow evening.

His first warning of the incoming visitor is when someone hurries into the tavern on near-silent feet, but every single one of his shadier patrons perks up at her entrance.

Scott watches her too, well-aware that there is often some kind of lookout watching for any kind of law enforcement when some kind of deal is going on. He grits his teeth. Which means that someone is doing deals in his tavern without his permission.

He sets the clean glass down on the counter and raises a singular eyebrow at the group highest on his suspect list.

He’s had issues with them in previous months, where they didn’t want to pay the pocket change they owed him because he let them make dealings inside his tavern. He charges a fair price for the business he allows behind closed doors, for someone to even attempt to scam him? They're lucky he didn’t do something worse than what he did.

He jerks his head towards the door, keeping his eye very firmly fixed on the leader of that group. The entire table vanishes, scrambling out the door.

A few other patrons leave as the news about the Sheriff’s impending arrival reaches more and more ears.

He watches them go, more than a little bitter that the Sheriff is chasing his business away. Whatever he wants, it better be good.

He raises an eyebrow when the Sheriff finally enters, clutching something close to his chest as he makes an immediate beeline for him. Several pairs of eyes follow him across the tavern, people beginning to relax once they realise that the Sheriff is here for Scott rather than any of his patrons.

“Good evening, Sheriff.”

“Scott,” the Sheriff greets, not even having the manners to return his cordial greeting. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Oh?” He blinks as the Sheriff slams whatever he was clutching down onto the bar countertop, spreading the paper out so Scott can see the scribbles on the surface. “I wasn’t aware you were interested in leatherworking.” Slightly ironic, seeing as the Sheriff has a tiny relation to the same animals this leather is taken from. Not that it seems to bother him, what with the leather hat and leather jacket.

“I'm not.”

“Pray tell, then, what is it you want me to do?”

“I want you to make this.” The Sheriff taps on the design detailing the measurements and everything else he wants. “Please,” he adds, seemingly remembering his manners.

“Mm.” Scott pretends to consider it. “I’ll see what I can do for you, lover boy.”

“I- what did you call me?”

“You heard me,” Scott grins. “Of course, I'm assuming you're going to pay me for this, yes? My skills with…this are much sought after. I wouldn’t want it to come to light that the darling Sheriff was…extorting his friends, hm?”

“Of course I’ll pay you. Name your price.”

“He really does have you wrapped around his finger. You, my dear Sheriff, are an absolute sucker.”

The Sheriff ignores him. A valiant effort. “When will it be ready for me to pick up?”

“Give me a week.” He holds his hand out, “Half of the payment now, and half then. Have we got a deal?” He wiggles his fingers teasingly, waiting for the Sheriff to take his hand and seal the deal. He gets a sour look instead. Ah, too smart for those tricks, it seems. He lowers his hand again, only mildly disappointed.

“How much do I owe you?”

===

“You're acting weird.”

“What?” Jimmy says, in a weird, not at all normal voice. “No I'm not!”

Tango stops and stares at him. He hopes his face correctly conveys enough of the what the hell and you're joking, right? sentiment he was going for. Jimmy winces and looks guilty, so he’ll call that a mission success.

“Did you break something?” he asks. Maybe Jimmy went poking around in his workshop again and found something – it wouldn’t be the first time that he’s accidentally broken one of Tango’s projects, and it probably won’t be the last time.

He can’t find it in himself to care when Jimmy does break some of his inventions, either, as he can just piece them back together. What’s the point in making something that he wouldn’t be able to fix if it broke? Plus, most of them are hastily cobbled together from scraps when the inspiration struck him, and then promptly abandoned.

“Ah, no I didn’t break anything.” Jimmy shakes his head hard enough that Tango momentarily worries that it’s going to unscrew itself and fly away. It doesn’t, thankfully. “I just…have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

He loves surprises. Especially ones that he gets to find out immediately – the suspense kills him every single time, meaning if he has to wait for longer than a few hours, maybe a day at most, to find out what it is, he might just combust. Sometimes literally.

“Yes,” Jimmy laughs, his eyes squinting shut. Tango grins up at him, not caring that Jimmy’s giggling at his enthusiasm, because the laugh isn’t mean, just excited and endeared. “It’s at home.”

“And what is it that you’ve gotten me?”

“You have to wait,” Jimmy pushes at his shoulder. “That’s the point of a surprise.”

“But you could just tell me now, couldn’t you?” Tango teases. “I'm about to find out in a second, what’s the point of waiting – I’ll have the same reaction all over again when you show it to me, I promise.”

“Just go look,” Jimmy says with a laugh, pushing him through their front door.

“Alright, alright…” he stops. And he stares. And stares…and stares a little more. “Huh.” Is what he manages to say when everything seems to have resettled in his mind, clicking mostly back into the right places.

“Do you not like it? It’s fine if you don't, I just thought that-”

“Shut up,” Tango tells him, and then decides that’s not enough and kisses him instead. “Thank you,” he says when he pulls back. He would normally linger in a moment like that for longer, but his hands are itching to pick the hat up and run his hands over the leather.

“I love it,” he tells Jimmy, when the hat is comfortably resting on his head. It has little leather dangling bits around the brim which sway back and forth when he moves. He wobbles his head, just to make them swish. “I love you.”

“Ah, Tango!” Jimmy covers his face with his hands. “Gods, warn a guy before you say something like that next time?”

“But you go so red every time I do! How can I resist!”

He wobbles his head again, just to watch the tassels swing. Damn. He can see why Jimmy likes his hat, this thing makes him feel important.

===

Time is the best solution for any malady, just…leave something alone for long enough and everything should sort itself out all nice.

So why is it that he still dreads the flight up to Stratos? It’s a short flight, one that barely takes a few seconds, one that starts in the village flourishing in the shadow of the citadel above, and ends with his hooves touching down on the grass outlining the main pathways of the island.

The gold of the citadel is blindingly bright this early in the morning, everything turning molten in the sunlight. The quartz reflects the light equally bright, and it forces him to squint his eyes against the light.

He’s going to blame his shoddy landing on his half-closed eyes, attempting to not blind himself this meeting. He stumbles, the tip of on hoof catching on the very edge of the island and sending him forward, grasping for his balance again. Tango catches his elbow and pulls him back upright, thankfully before he can make even more of a fool of himself and do something stupid like fall on his face, though it’s not done without a snicker.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tango looks away, tilting his new hat down over his face so Jimmy can’t see it as well. He can still see well enough to spot the barely repressed grin, even as the leather tassels drift about his face and cast an even deeper shadow. His ears flick a few times as the leather strips bump into them, brushing over the short fur, Tango obviously still unused to wearing the hat and all the accessories that come with it. “I'm not laughing. Promise.”

“I can see you grinning.”

Tango’s apology would have been far more convincing if he couldn’t see the way Tango’s ears continue to tremble, even after the leather strips stop irritating them, shaking with the repressed giggles that Tango is biting back.

“No, you can’t.” Tango turns his face even further away, warm hand slipping away from Jimmy’s elbow as he tugs his hat down, lower over his face. His tail continues to flick back and forth, betraying his continued amusement at Jimmy’s expense, flames sputtering in time with his silent laughs.

“It’s really not that funny,” he complains. And maybe he’s whining a little bit, but it makes Tango turn back to him, amused gleam continuing to shine in his eyes. “I don't make fun of you for hiding from the rain!”

“You don't, you don't,” Tango huffs out a laugh, then turns to properly face him once more. “C’mon, best we get this over with, yeah?”

Jimmy clicks his tongue at Tango’s blatant dislike for Joel. “We’re allies now,” he reminds. It’s a tentative alliance, for sure, but it’s an alliance nonetheless. He doesn’t have many of those, and having a god (no matter how egotistical that god is) on his side – their side – is comforting. Even if it means getting up at the worst possible times because the god seems to rise with the goddamn sun.

He pulls Tango back when he goes to walk away, ignoring the confused, inquisitive noise that Tango makes when he pulls him around to look at his face.

He stares at Tango for several long moments, hand resting on the juncture between Tango’s shoulder and neck. He brushes his hand up and adjusts Tango’s hat, so it’s not covering his face so much anymore.

He can’t help but linger for a moment, the back of his hand grazing against Tango’s cheek. “There,” he pats Tango’s cheek, “much better like that. Now,” he takes the lead, “remember to be polite.”

“Oh, you wanna talk?” Tango scoffs a laugh, turning to chase after him. Jimmy’s face still feels a little warm from staring longingly into Tango’s eyes for several long moments just seconds ago. And…maybe Tango’s a little right, yeah, maybe most of their trade agreements and whatnot are spent trying to figure out what petty jab to use next, and when to use it for maximum effect.

Tango’s told him several times that he should be the bigger person and not to return the jabs, that only encourages him! But Jimmy has also watched Tango, the biggest advocator for maintaining a professional persona while working and also the biggest hypocrite he knows, make several rude and aggressive gestures at Joel’s back the moment the god turns away.

…He’s beginning to see why most of the times he managed to arrest Tango was after he had been ganged up on by other bandits.

“And being allies,” he continues, ignoring Tango. “Means that we need to be courteous.”

“He’s not here yet,” Tango says. “And just you wait, you’ll be eating your words the moment ‘toy’ drops out of his mouth.”

Jimmy doesn’t have a responding argument for that. Mostly because Tango is right and also because they’ve just arrived at the arranged meeting spot. The arranged meeting spot where Joel is already present and ready, probably preparing to shame them for being late by three seconds, or something equally stupid.

And despite the stupidly early hour, Joel is lounging casually and drinking something from a crudely made mug. It’s a far cry from the things Joel makes for himself, let alone deems worthy enough to be used by his holier than thou hands.

The words trip out of his mouth before he can even process anything else about their surroundings: “Did you sit on that mug halfway through making it?” The mug really does look quite squashed, wonky, and with a far too large handle. The handle is larger than the rest of the mug. “Why’d you still stick it in the kiln looking like that?”

It’s meant as an insult. A small thing designed to irritate the god and make him eager to get them out of Stratos as soon as possible. A short meeting with the god is the most desirable kind.

What he didn’t account for, however, is the small child sat just beside Joel. Though, instead of sitting in a chair, he’s seated on the lush grass. Hermes pauses what he was doing – some kind of drawing in a little sketchbook, so similar to the one that Joel carries around with him – to look up.

“Does my mug…look like someone sat on it?”

Shit.

“Not at all.” Joel stares at him, but even the unrelenting gaze promising a slow and painful death doesn’t manage to pull Jimmy’s eyes away from the child’s face, and how Hermes looks as though he might burst into tears at any second.

Shit.

He’s floundering, lost amongst a sea of words and grasping for literally anything that might save him from his fast-approaching death. One that Joel is already constructing in his mind’s eye, raising the executioner’s axe in preparation for the first tears being shed.

“Oh no, no,” his saviour is not some half-baked excuse and apology rolled into one that he managed to come up with to smooth ruffled feathers and assure the child of his incredible pottery skills. Instead, his saviour comes in the form of his wonderful, fantastic and stunning partner stepping up – quite literally.

He crosses the grass in a few strides, shawl flapping around him and flames curling with anxiety. He crouches down beside Hermes, not quite touching the demigod child, but his hands remain hovering over the child’s arms.

“What the Sheriff meant to say,” Jimmy winces, “is that your mug is wonderfully unique! I’ve never before seen such use of angles and lines, and the colours too…”

Tango’s voice trails off, though his mouth continues moving, without words. It takes Jimmy a few moments to process that it is his hearing that has failed him, not that Tango’s silver tongue has given up and left him fumbling for more words to continue comforting the child in front of them.

All that filters through his head is muffled, as though he has dunked his head underwater as everyone else continues to talk around him.

He watches as Hermes brightens beneath Tango’s praise, his uncertain frown transforming into a beaming grin as he begins gesturing wildly, hands flying all over the place. His drawings are abandoned, seemingly forgotten, as he focuses instead on speaking with Tango.

And the latter nods along attentively. If Jimmy’s ears were working properly he’s certain he would hear the way Tango normally hums along when he’s listening to something – he can almost hear the sound, can feel the vibration of it within his own chest, familiar and comforting in its cadence – and he’d be able to hear Tango asking questions, keeping the child engaged and distracted from Jimmy’s earlier shoving-his-foot-in-his-mouth moment.

“Hm,” he tries not to startle at the sudden return of his hearing and the even more sudden appearance of Joel beside him. He didn’t even see the man stand up, let alone make his way over here – get it together Jimmy! Tango might look incredibly endearing and loveable right now, but if this was any other occasion such distraction could be fatal! …Oh, who was he kidding. If this was a lethal situation and Tango revealed that he was good with kids, Jimmy would be a dead man.

“I wouldn’t have thought Tango was so good with children.” Joel echoes his own thoughts exactly. “Did you know this?”

“…No?”

Joel side-eyes him. “You don't sound very certain of yourself.”

Well, not all of us are self-assured, egotistical maniacs.

“Well, I've never seen him interact with children before,” Jimmy says, incredibly diplomatic compared to his original thoughts. “And, apparently,” he gestures at the scene in front of them helplessly, unable to communicate further.

Tango’s gone from kneeling in front of Hermes to sitting beside him, watching as the child flips through his sketchbook and narrates every brushstroke to him.

“Hm.” Joel responds.

It’s an unusually concise response from the god, but he doesn’t have much to say either today, stunned to silence by Tango’s apparent ability to comfort and then entertain a child for longer than five minutes. He’d thought Tango’s skill with children extended to his abilities to deal with babies – non-existent.

“He’s good with kids,” Joel says. “I’ll give him that…say, how much d’you think he’d charge for a babysitting service?”

“You're not paying my partner to babysit your kid. He has more important things to be doing.”

“Haha, I'm sure he does.”

“Don't be disgusting, Hermes is right there.” Joel doesn’t flinch as Jimmy jabs him in the side, only giving him an unimpressed look that just says: you think that would hurt me, mere mortal? Or something equally pretentious.

“I was talking about the obvious signature of getting promoted,” Joel side-eyes him again- seriously, would it kill him to actually look at Jimmy properly for once! “What were you talking about?” He has a grin on his face that Jimmy knows means Joel knows exactly what it is that he was implying, and Joel knows that Jimmy knows this.

He, very maturely, does not rise to the bait.

“You mean the hat.”

“It’s an interesting little thing. You commission Scott to do it?”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “How could you tell?”

“A guess.” Joel glances over at him from the corner of his eye. “Mostly because I know you're an absolute sucker for him and would settle for nothing but the best.”

“I am not a sucker for him-”

“Oh, look,” Joel interrupts him. “He’s letting Hermes try the hat on.”

What?

He looks over to the scene he’d momentarily dismissed in order to argue with Joel properly, pausing as he takes it in. He watches Tango laugh when the hat slips over Hermes’ face and makes it disappear completely.

His eyes go all squinty as he laughs, the creases around his eyes only increasing as Hermes lifts the hat to glare at him from beneath it, having to brush aside the leather tassels to actually see him.

It’s an unfairly attractive quality of Tango that Jimmy hadn’t even realised existed until a few minutes ago.

It distracts him throughout the rest of the meeting, especially when Tango chooses to remain sitting on the ground and entertain Hermes for the duration of his and Joel’s discussion over the gunpowder prices, during which Jimmy has to explain why his prices are higher than the unethical creeper farms found on the edges of the mesa – most of which he's working on wiping out.

A few have inevitably fallen through the cracks, but he makes Joel, unwillingly, hand over the details of their locations so he can go hunt them down when he has the chance.

It's a relief, really, to have someone that entertains Hermes throughout the meeting. Where he would normally be sat on Joel’s knee or tugging at his toga for some kind of attention, now he’s content and docile, happy to sketch Tango in that wobbly and rather ugly way that only a child can achieve.

Tango still coos over the drawings Hermes shows him, acting as though he’s been gifted the most precious treasure when Hermes offers out one of said drawings at the end of the meeting, half-hiding behind Joel’s leg as he does so.

It’s only then that Tango manages to reclaim his hat from the child, settling it comfortably back on his head.

“So,” Jimmy says as they touch down into the village below, slowly making their way back to the village stables to collect their horses. “Good with kids?”

“I'm really not,” Tango scoffs. “What, you think I’d tell him to just shove off? You almost made the kid cry, dearest.”

“I didn’t think you’d sit and let him draw you.”

“The kid’s a budding artist,” Tango shrugs. “Who knows, maybe one day he’ll be incredibly famous and this drawing will be worth thousands.” He waves the small piece of paper around. The sketch on it is only recognisable as Tango because of the cat-like ears and the flame-tipped tail. “See, he’s signed it and everything.”

“That is barely legible as his name.” Jimmy says, though he does so with a smile.

“Uh-huh, alright, you wanna talk about you and Joel then? I thought you hated the guy but I look up and you two are laughing together?”

“I don't hate him, I just have a healthy dislike for him,” Jimmy protests. “I wouldn’t ally myself with someone I actively hate! And anyway, I was laughing at him not with him.”

“Sure, sure,” Tango nods along, speaking in a way that means he’s not at all convinced. “Only, I could’ve sworn you two looked like you were friends?”

“We’re not friends!” Jimmy’s protest this time is much louder, gaining the disapproving looks of many nearby villagers. He clamps his mouth shut, ears going hot with embarrassment. “I still don't like him.”

“Okay, alright,” Tango laughs. At his expense! Laughs at his suffering! “Not friends, got it.”

He’s still smiling like he knows something Jimmy doesn’t, though.

Most unfortunate of all is the look Tango sends him a moment later, grin flashing amongst the dark shadow of his hat over his face, eyes glinting dangerously; teasingly.

===

“It’s so stupid,” he bemoans, possibly for the third time, maybe the fourth. He hasn’t really been paying attention to how many times he’s complained, but it’s a few. More than one, at least.

“Uh-huh,” Scott couldn’t sound less interested if he tried. As it is, the tavern is almost completely dark around the two of them – the only two people left inside the building. Correction: only awake and mostly sober people left inside the building. “You’ve mentioned it.”

“And it’s your fault,” he accuses, pointing a finger at Scott’s back. He’s cleaning his glasses – all the man does is clean the glasses behind the bar, it’s like he has nothing better to do!

“My fault?” Scott turns around, cloth and glass still held in his hands. “How is it my fault? I made it all to your specifications, Sheriff. If anything, it’s your fault that Red looks so good in that hat.”

“Noo,” he slowly sinks down to the counter, resting his forehead against the cool wood.

“Shut up.”

#juno.writes #red bandit au #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #trafficshipping #solidaritek #team rancher #team ranchers #tango tek #solidaritygaming #solidarity gaming #empires smp #empiressmp #empires jimmy #empires tango

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jamdoughnutmagician · 1 year

Text

When Worlds Collide

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: When Uncle Wayne asks about the girl that Eddie's been sneaking out to see, Eddie’s two worlds collide when the two most important people in his life are about to meet.

Warnings: None that I can think of? Unless shamelessly indulgent fluff and perhaps bad writing count?

Word Count: 2,132

Authour’s Note: I posted a small eddie fic last night and I wanted to post this one too because I was low-key proud of it. We’re going into 2023 and I’m embracing the cringe of not only reading reader insert fanfic, but also writing it too.

Eddie slowly tiptoed his way back into the trailer after initially sneaking out to visit his girlfriend's house to spend the night there. He knew his uncle Wayne would probably be back from his late night shift at the plant, so with any luck his uncle would be fast asleep, passed out on the pull-out sofa bed. All he would have to do is quietly slip past him and get back into his room and Wayne would be none-the-wiser.

Eddie unlocked the trailer door as quietly as he could, but he swears that every move he makes is suddenly louder than it has ever been before. The jingling of the keys in the lock ringing out in the otherwise silent night. Stepping through the door Eddie sees the one thing that he wasn’t expecting to see. His uncle Wayne, sitting on the sofa, not asleep, but wide awake, unlacing and pulling off his work boots. They lock eyes, sizing each other up.

“H-hey, Wayne, um how was work?” Eddie asks, hopefully, trying to dodge the question of what he was doing out so late.

“Same old shit, different day. The usual.” -Wayne huffed out in his gravelly voice- “So, who is she?” a wry smile gracing the older Munson's face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Eddie was never very good at playing dumb. It was even worse when it came to you. Any time he thought of you he could feel his face heat up with a blush.

“Son, you’ve got this dopey grin on your face like I've never seen before. She must be real special if she’s got you like this”

Busted. Eddie had no choice but to come clean. It wasn’t like he was exactly keeping his relationship with you a secret, it’s just that he and his uncle never really had these types of conversations. That was just the way things were between the two Munson men.

“C’mon, boy, tell me about her then.” Wayne encouraged.

“Well, she’s a friend..” Eddie started.

“I should hope so.” his uncle teased in his gruff voice.

“..and well she’s just super pretty and really cool! She likes D&D and she likes the music my band plays, god Wayne, she’s just the best!” Eddie finished, his smile beaming across his face.

“She sounds like a keeper, son. So when do I meet the girl who’s got my boy wrapped around her finger?”

“Y-you’d want to meet her?” Eddie stumbles over his words. The thought of the two most important people in his life meeting? How was that going to go?

“Sure I do, son. If she’s important to you, then she’s important to me.” Wayne nodded as he reached out a hand to ruffle his nephew’s hair.

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

It had been a few days since his uncle Wayne posed the idea of meeting his girlfriend and Eddie was about to talk to you about it. He could talk to you about everything and anything, so why was he so nervous to ask you if you would want to meet his uncle? Eddie knew that he didn’t have a huge family, but it was important to him that you meet the man that he’d looked up to his entire life, the man who made Eddie the man he was today.

Eddie was laid back on your soft bed, his eyes darting across the room, taking in the way that your bedroom was so neatly organised, with your little trinkets and jewellery decorating you vanity table and the small soft teddy bear sitting at the foot of your bed, Mr. Snuggles, he came to find out after gently teasing you for still having stuffed animals in your bedroom one night. He remembers telling you that he should be the one you should be cuddling up to at night. That conversation led to you telling him that “of course I love snuggling up to you, Eddie. You’re my Eddie-teddy” and suddenly your nickname of ‘Eddie-bear’ for him stuck, not that he minded.

“Hey, so you know how I’ve met your family, right?” Eddie starts.

“Yeah, and they loved you, you were so sweet around them!” you came back.

“Hah, yeah, well I was talking with my uncle about you the other day..”

“All good things, I hope”

“Always. Scouts honour.” -Eddie crosses his fingers across his heart- “So, my old man really wanted to meet you. Said something about wanting to meet the girl who has me ‘wrapped around her fingers’” Eddie finished with his fingers doing air-quotes.

“Really? He said that about me?” you chuckled.

“Yeah, but it’s totally okay if you don’t want to, I understand it can be intimidating meeting the family can be scary and all, so you can say no, and I won’t-”

“-Eddie..” -you stopped him mid ramble by grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers with his- “I would absolutely love that. If he’s as important to you as what he seems then I want to meet him” you finished, your eyes looking up at him with love.

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

You finished up the last of your makeup in the mirror whilst you waited for Eddie to pick you up from your house, a light wash of eye shadow, and black mascara decorating your eyes, a sweep of warm blush over your cheeks and a dab of pink lipstick over your lips. You figured that it would be best to keep your makeup simple if you were going to meet Eddie’s uncle, wanting to make a good first impression, not wanting to give him any reason to not like you.

With a final check over of your outfit, a pair of light-wash high-waisted denim jeans and a soft pink sweater, a pair of small skull and crossbones stud earrings (that had been a birthday gift from Eddie the year before) and your favourite pair of off-white converses. A quick ruffle of your hair before the sound of a car horn beeping outside your house gets your attention, the familiar sound of Eddie’s van alerting you to his presence.

Walking downstairs from your room, you go to open the front door.

Eddie embraces you with wide open arms, bringing you into a comforting hug as he places a gentle soft kiss to your temple.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart” he mumbles against your hair

“Thanks, Eddie-bear, I really just want your uncle to like me” you shyly admitted.

“He’ll love you, baby. He’ll love you, because I love you, okay? There’s no need to be so nervous” Eddie reassures you. “Now whaddya say we get in that van, and make our way back to my place?”

The ride to Eddie's trailer, although filled with the sounds of one of Eddie’s Black Sabbath tapes playing lowly in the background, was unusually silent, the nerves of meeting one the most important people in Eddie’s life playing on your mind.

Eddie could see that your mind was drifting, and the nerves of what was about to come was playing on your thoughts. He let one of his hands fall from the steering wheel, to briefly intertwine with yours, his larger hand with clunky metal rings a stark contrast to your smaller dainty hands, delicately painted nails in a pretty shade of blue.

“Hey” -Eddie started, whilst he saw your eyes were on him- “It’s all going to be fine, trust me.”

“Thanks I guess I just get on my own head sometimes”

_________

Eddie pulled into the parking space outside his trailer, opening his door before walking around to your doorside, to hold your hand as you jumped out.

He led you to his trailer, as he had done so many times before, but this time was different. It wasn’t going to be just you two in his bedroom laughing and spending time together. It was going to be a nice evening, spent with Eddie and his uncle.

Eddie opened the trailer door, shouting out into the living space inside

“Hey Wayne! I hope you don’t mind. I brought a visitor with me!” Eddie joked.

Eddie placed his large hand on the small of your back to comfort you, as he ushered you into his trailer.

“Boy, what the hell are you talking abou- Oh! Hello sweetheart.” Wayne softened immediately, so this was the girl his nephew was so enamoured with.

Ah. So this is where Eddie got his gentlemanly qualities from you think to yourself.

“Hello Mr. Munson, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m y/n, Eddie’s girlfriend. Thank you for inviting me to your home, it’s lovely.” you extended your open hand to Wayne in a, what you hoped came off as a confident, handshake.

“Aw come on now, don’t need to be so formal, you can call me, Wayne.” he says with a drawl, accepting her outstretched hand and giving it a welcoming shake.

Eddie looks at the interaction between his uncle and his girlfriend with hopeful eyes, and he swears that he can see his uncle’s usually tough exterior being softened at his girlfriend’s sweet and kind nature.

“So, shall we get something to eat? I could really go for some pizza, what say you guys?” Eddie pipes up, changing the subject.

“Alright, boy, I’ll get to ordering, you and your lady go and sit on the couch and I’ll join you in a moment. Pepperoni alright with you, sweetheart?” Wayne turns his eyes to you as he begins to dial the pizza delivery number.

“Sounds perfect!” you smile.

_____________

“So how did my boy manage to get a lovely girl like yourself to go out with him?” Wayne asks, nudging Eddie with his elbow.

“Well we actually sat next to each other in English class and he asked me if I could help him with his report on Hamlet, so we spent some time in the library going through stuff together and then I told him he could always come over to my house if he needed any extra help..”

“-Which I definitely took her up on, not only because I desperately needed help with my failing grades, but because I thought she was cute-” Eddie interjected with a blush rising to his cheeks. “-and then we got to talking about other things like Hellfire, and my band so I invited her along to come see us play at the hideout.”

“Which I could not turn down, because I wanted to spend time with him away from school and I was so amazed at his performance! It was great to see him in his element like that.” you admitted.

“Well, aren’t you kids cute?” Wayne chuckled to himself.

___________

The rest of the evening went well with the conversation between the three of you flowing easily

“I should probably drive y/n back home, I promised her parents that I’d bring her back safely.” Eddie says as he stands up, offering his hand to you.

“Oh, yes of course.” she says as she takes her boyfriend's hand helping her off the couch.

“-Thank you so much for making me feel welcome in your home, Mr. Muns-I mean, Wayne. I’ve had the loveliest time meeting you!” she reaches out her hand to the older Munson man.

Taking her smaller hand in his Wayne, brings her closer into a friendly hug.

“Sweetheart, you're always welcome here, it’s been a real pleasure meeting you, too.” Wayne gruffs out as he pulls away.

Eddie watches carefully between the two of his favourite people, he couldn’t have imagined this meeting going any better, he thinks, with a wide grin gracing his features.

“Darling, why don’t you head off to the van, I’ll be there in a moment. I’ve just got to finish up something here quickly.” Eddie poses, giving her the keys to his van.

“Sure, don’t be too long!” she teases, pecking his cheek in a gentle kiss, and turning to make her way out of the trailer and towards Eddie’s van.

“So?….” Eddie bounces on the heels of his feet as he lets the question hang in the air.

“Son, I think she’s lovely. She’s a real keeper, that’s for sure.” Wayne assured his nephew.

“You do?”

“I do.” Wayne nods “-and I think if you ever do anything to upset that sweet angel of a girl, then you’ll have some serious explaining to do, son” Wayne warns Eddie.

“I won’t, Sir. I love her too much to do that to her” Eddie admits honestly.

“Good boy, that’s the right answer. Now go take your girl home, she’s waiting on her knight in shining armour.” Wayne teases, ruffling Eddie’s fuzzy hair.

Eddie makes his way out of the trailer, before leaning out the door one final time.

“Thanks so much for doing this Wayne, it means so much to me.”

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things s4

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s0ulryo · 2 years

Text

Small Things Il Dottore Does For You *ೃ༄

[Dottore x Reader] Synopsis: Small things Dottore does for you (and other relationship headcanons). Tags: Fluff, slightly crackish yes, soft headcanon, possible cw. Notes: Prolly ooc? Not proofread. I won’t stop writing Dottore content till there's more Dottore content out there. I wanted to write more but my memory is shit and I keep forgetting what I want to write. Did I just start a new thing instead of finishing the oneshot fic i had planned, yes yes i did. Why is it always 1-4 am when I am posting? ENJOY!!

(Reader is always gn unless specified otherwise.)

Like I said in my last headcanon, he’d do anything for you. Doesn’t matter what that thing is – he’ll do it if you desire it, but if you straight up ask he’ll probably make fun of you for it.

That being said, shopping with him is a nightmare for three reasons. One, he gets distracted very easily. Two, if you stare at something for too long he will get it for you. Three, if he thinks you’ll look good in something he will buy it.

“Hi, I'm back. I found this cool knife for my test subjects and I found this bracelet – I got two so we can match.”

Tbh, he only acts super nice in public because he wants people to think he’s polite, being a Fatui Harbinger who is known for testing on people doesn’t really give you bonus points in the likeability department.

He wants to be around you. I said that before too; but I feel like he’ll take you to events that he knows you both will like just so he can hang out with you.

He’s not the type of person to give you their jacket/coat/sweater when you’re cold. He will let you freeze. Well, he won’t give you his coat because he wants you to be close to him/cling onto him.

“You should have brought a jacket [Name].” You sigh “I literally am wearing a jacket Dottore, I didn’t know it would be this cold though.” “You should have brought a better jacket [Name].” You start walking faster out of spite. “Hey! Stop speed walking [Name]!”

He will yank you closer to him so you don’t walk away and so you can cling to him for warmth.

If you wear rings or bracelets he’ll want to put them on for you – he likes physical intimacy and he likes knowing your style preference.

He’ll prank you with his clones, he finds your suffering enjoyable sometimes.

Imagine just being surrounded (like in a cult circle) by all his clones while trying to get something.

“Dottore please – I just wanted to get a glass of water”

He makes you tea when he comes back from work, whenever that is. He does that because you stay up all the time waiting for him.

He steals your clothes. Like all them time he steals your clothes. He steals them because he thinks they smell nice and he thinks if he takes all of your clothes you’ll be forced to wear his.

I like to believe he’ll write you letters when he takes long trips, but he never gives them to you because he thinks they are super shitty.

He makes you small little trinkets when he’s bored.

He’s fairly insecure about his relationship with you but he just grew to accept it.

He wears your jewelry and gives you his to wear. He just thinks it's fun to swap earrings and such with you.

He’ll teach you how to make his favorite dish just so you can make it better. He’ll also try to learn how to make your favorite dish just to see if he could make it better than you can.

Every time you tell him about one of your interests he’ll act like he’s not interested in it but then try to learn everything about it so he can have a fun conversation about it with you in the future.

He carries two handkerchiefs on him – one for him, one for you.

He’ll remember all your preferences, he likes studying people and you’re not an exception.

“No tomatoes right [Name]?” “Yeah, no tomatoes…”

Sorry, I just think the texture or just plain raw sliced tomatoes are icky.

If you get sick he will try to take a few days off so you can get better quickly, and if he can’t he’ll send you voice messages through one of his inventions complaining about his job not letting him take some days off.

If you are good at art, he’ll let you draw on him.

He’ll be really animated while telling you stories in hopes of getting some of your reactions.

If he sees someone else staring at you in public he’ll either ask you to get something in the opposite direction of that person or link pinkies with you.

Sometimes he’ll let you style his hair.

He’ll hold a staring contest with you just to have an excuse to stare at you.

Besides your name, he will call you things like ‘Dear’ and ‘Love’.

He will pick you up out of nowhere – and if you resist he will drag you around on the floor.

Dottore writes down everything about you, almost like a journal. It has stuff ranging from what you guys did that day to a list of your enemies.

He really tries to make time for you, but then he’ll act like he didn’t make time for you.

“Dottore, you’re home early.” “Yeah, it’s not like I came home early to see you or anything.” He said picking at his nails. You rolled your eyes “Really? Then I’ll be back later.” “Wait [Name] – come back!”

Honestly, Dottore really wants to be around you; he just likes having someone to be around that doesn’t hate him. Just try to be easy on him, he knows he’s shit at being genuine when communicating so just be patient – please.

#s0ulryo #s0ulryo writes #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #geshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore #il dottore genshin #il dottore headcanons #dottore headcanons #dottore #dottore genshin #dottore fluff

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meow-town · 2 years

Note

Dee x reader who cries a lot but tries really hard to make people smile maybe? If that’s okay?

Ofc!! Ty for requesting :D

Dee Shvagenbagen x Reader who likes helping people, having lots of problems of their own.

・・・・・・—－－－★

-You were a known sweetheart, and were always there to try cheering someone up.

-You’d leave notes for someone who wasn’t talking as much, check up on people on the daily, and get them small trinkets to see them smile :)

-And of course, this included Dee. He seemed sad, or you just never managed to see him smile.

-And of course, he would deny all of your attempts.

-You would try to strike up conversation with him, or leave him little notes with positive messages. But to no avail whatsoever.

-He’d leave the notes where they were, not bothering to look at them. And he’d shut you off whenever you spoke to him about his feelings.

-It’s literally that one vine

“Dee, do you ever wanna talk about your feelings?”

“No.”

-But you didn’t let up, you kept going. It became your personal little goal. You would try to make him smile, giving him snacks, complimenting his makeup, talking about books…

-Dee thought you were flirting with him. Most girls tried the same things as you, so he figured. Most people would flatter him to the ends of the earth to try and get with him, he was used to all this. So he avoided you as much as he could, he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted. Even if he had a completely opposite idea of what you were trying to get out of this.

-But underneath bubbly, golden retriever personas, you had problems of your own. No one could know. You were there to make people happy, so pushing down your emotions was the only option left.

-And after a year of doing this, it began to build up. The school day starts off just fine, but as the day goes on, more tears well up. Until you reach your bedroom and completely let go, staining pillows endlessly with tears. It’s a daily routine at this point.

-As the urge to cry grew stronger at school, you stopped caring so much about Dee and just started cheering people up as you usually did. You would go above and beyond, hoping that the need to help people would overcome the growing aching in your chest.

-Dee also noticed this, how you became even ‘sunshine- ier’ than you already were, which he already thought was hard enough. He also noticed how you detached to him, making less of an effort to make him happy. -It relieved him. It worried him. -He decided to investigate. He had studied psychology, so he figured he could get some answers out of you. This was to practice his psychoanalysis skills, it wasn’t because he wanted you to continue showering him with praise, of course not…

-Truth is, the blonde had become accustomed to your ways. He enjoyed it. At first, it just fed his ego. But after time, he would smile tenderly while thinking about you (making sure you weren’t there to see it, of course).

-Today Dee was going to be victim of your daily sessions of checking up on people, whether they had eaten, if they were feeling okay, etc, etc… You walked right next to the bench he sat on, and perched yourself right next to him.

-Surprisingly enough, he lowered the book he was reading to turn to you.

-He had been planning this for a long time, deciding to confront you about how you were acting. And why.

-You we’re just asking him the usual. ‘How are you feeling?’ ‘Have you been staying hydrated?’

—————

“(f/n).”

“Yes?” I turned to him, palms still pressed onto the wood of the bench. His eyes darkened visibly, accentuating his smoky eyeshadow.

“Why do you do this?” It took me by surprise, whether it was the fact that his demeanor flipped completely, that he slammed his book and placed it in his lap or the question he asked. A mixture of all three, it must’ve been. “Why do you waste your time with me, with others?”

I couldn’t say anything. So I just stared holes into the shirt hem my fingers had found their way to, twisting and turning to avoid the question. “Why are you so nice?”

“Because I want people to be happy..!” I smiled.

“Are you happy?” He asked. I fought back with all my strengths to not let a single tear shed, reminding myself to take deep breaths. Pain swelled in my nose, my chest, my head. I put in all my efforts to not sniffle. This couldn’t happen. I was doing so well. I hadn’t broken down in school ever. It wasn’t going to change now. My mouth tightened, lips sewn together. I decided not to answer, for if I opened my mouth, the sound leaving from it would give me away immediately. I just nodded, inching the corners of my mouth up as much as I could.

“(f/n)… Are you alright?”

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

I couldn’t stop them. One stray blob rolled down from my distressed eyes. One turned into three, three turned into five, until fat tears were traveling down my cheeks in endless rivers in a matter of seconds. Dee stared at me in shock, at least I thought so, my sight was all blurry. I didn’t bother anymore, letting the tears go on. I knew he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. Choked sobs left my throat as I wiped away my eyes frantically. It didn’t matter at this point. I couldn’t deny anything. Nothing would make him believe me. I cussed myself out internally. I had a good thing going. No one knew about this. Blood shot eyes refused to stare at the blonde in front of me. I wouldn’t do it. I felt his hands tug my arms away from my eyes.

———

-Dee was absolutely speechless.

-He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what was happening. He had no idea it would end this way. He just opted for pulling you hands away, because they were hiding your face. It all happened so fast, he didn’t know how to react.

“Don’t cry. Please.” -His voice was calm and soothing as he pulled your face to make you look towards him. You twisted to try and force out of his grasp, but he made sure you knew it was okay to cry. He rubbed circles into your back, also checking around to make sure no one was near you two. You were vulnerable.

-He waited a good fifteen minutes for you to get it all out, and asked if you wanted to talk about it. You denied, not wanting to explain why you felt this way. But he wasn’t planning on letting this go.

-The roles had switched completely over the course of a week. He would check up on you every single day with no exception. Asking if you were alright, if you had done your homework, if you needed help with anything, if you wanted to finally talk about what happened that day on the bench.

-Dee didn’t know why he was doing this. Why was he so drawn to you? Sure, you were kind, and good-looking, and in need of some serious help that he could provide for you… If only you let him in so he could comfort you.

-He was staring at your online status. Online, offline, it kept switching. That’s when Heavy barged in through his door (after knocking, of course) and said something about a cute cat video. Heavy plopped himself down, next to his brother and gave him the phone.

-Dee decided to send you it, as he thought you would like such things.

-He saw your status become online, and smiled when you texted back.

-Much to his surprise, you invited him over to your house where you were planning to finally discuss unsettled matters. He was ready to leave the house within seconds.

-He ran towards your house, crossing streets and his foot tapping frantically at every red light. He reached your house at once, and ringed the doorbell. You practically pulled him inside.

-You sat him down on your bed, and took a deep breath before unveiling everything. You had to say something, the desire to tell someone what you had been going through had been brewing over weeks now. You got straight to business, crying in front of him for the second time.

-He watched in both satisfaction and pure bitterness. He felt so bad you had to go through these things, all while caring for others.

-That’s when it just clicked for him.

-He wanted to help you, as much as he possibly could. He wanted to hold you till the ends of the earth, to protect you. To blow off people who asked to much of you. To caress your face as you ranted everything to him.

-He didn’t think any further, and pulled you into a kiss once you finished your monologue.

-His arms roamed around you, and pulled you into a tight embrace to kiss your tears away.

-Dee spent the remains of the afternoon hearing you out and cuddling until you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

-He wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

#metal family #metal family x reader #metal family dee #metal family dee x reader #dee metal family #dee metal family x reader #dee #dee x reader #dee shvagenbagen #dee Shvagenbagen x reader #Metalfamily

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hotpinkstars · 22 days

Text

ESPRESSO - aventurine x reader

- "now he's thinkin' bout me, everynight, oh, is it that sweet? i guess so." or, how does aventurine do when he's in love?

- GUYS GUYS QUEEN SABRINA DROPPED A SINGLE i've been listening to this for days and i needed to write about it sooooooooooo yeah! anyways i'll get to writing probably a few requests tomorrow and wednesday (expect 4-5 posts between those days to make up for my absence) and yeahhhhhh enjoy!!

- aventurine might be a little ooc, mentions of his trauma (so penacony main quest spoilers), reader confesses at the end. wc 1067

Aventurine doesn’t know what to do when he first figures out that the feeling in his chest whenever he saw you was because he liked you. He probably tried to deny it, until Topaz caught him blushing like crazy after you walked away from the conversation you two had just finished. (Even then, she had to tell him, and then he spent a long time thinking that possibility through. She might have been right).

You plague his visions. Why does he always want something to do with you? Why does he always want to be in your space, but also never wants to see you again? You’ve noticed his weird behavior, considering you were one of the first people he’s ever genuinely called a friend, but didn’t really think too far into it.

Though, it didn’t stop you from paying more attention to it, that's for a fact. Sometimes you’d pay more attention to his body movements around you, the way he speaks, his etiquette, etc. You and Topaz communicate through it, and it’s a little bit different from his conversations with her.

You know he can be cocky. Like, very cocky. You know he’s not too afraid to talk back, to challenge someone to a gamble (spoiler he wins), and to be reckless. Though, you also know about his backstory. So you can kind of understand where he’s coming from.

He’s been pretty open with you about all of the things he’s endured. You know his real name, he’s described how his family has looked, and he’s described his years he endured slavery and what his home planet was like. You know about the Men in Black and the Katicans. And you know how traumatized he is.

Now, you’ve known him for a long, long time before this. You welcomed him into the IPC when Jade first announced his arrival, and you kind of showed him the ropes. He thought you seemed kind, so he stayed in contact with you.

You’ve watched him change, all of his progress through life, the hard times and the good times, and so much more. And that's what gets him the most, he thinks.

He never realized how much he trusted you until he realized he liked you. You know every single thing about this man, which was the reason why he was rather… nervous when he’d have to communicate with you face to face. He did a good job at keeping up his front he uses to talk to people, but you sensed a slight form of stress underneath all the layers he put up to look tough.

He lays awake, thinking about you. You’ve made part of his mind your home, and it’s the part he comes back to over and over again. You replay in his mind like a good song that he can’t get enough of- on, and on, and on, and on.

He does like to bring you little trinkets he finds pretty when he goes out in public to do some shopping. Considering how wealthy he is, he could probably afford to buy out the whole store, so if you even mention something you like to him, he’s on his way to find it for you. He likes to think of it as he’s buying your kindness, but you think something completely different. You enjoy his sudden gift giving, not just because of your gain, but because he thought about you enough to do such a thing. It always makes you slightly blush before laughing while opening the box presented in front of you. He thinks that's the most precious part about your time spent together; all of the opportunities he gets to listen to your gorgeous laughter and see your flawless smile. Topaz, pinch the man, he’s in his own personal dreampool.

Oh, how bad he wants to confess to you, but he’s really afraid of rejection. He fears losing you entirely, fears that you won’t look at him like you always do if he asked if you two could be a thing. He fears you’d think he was odd for wanting you to himself, and that you’d slowly back away until you refuse to even look at his broken, battered form any longer. The thought makes a shiver crawl up his back. He can’t lose you too.

All this man asks is to find a way to remove you from his head. You’re absolutely tormenting him! Notice how he’s been lacking on his work lately, always caught in a daze when he’s sitting down at his desk? That’s you he’s daydreaming about. He’s no good with his emotions. He knows how to hide sadness, fear, and anger, but he’s never been in this boat before. Love is a whole new concept to him.

“Aventurine, you’ve been out of it lately. Tell me, is something the matter?” You barge through the blonde's office, not even bothering to knock. You know you don’t have to, he’s never doing anything so significant in that tiny space that it needs to be kept private.

“What are you saying? Nothings up with me,” he drops his pen in the small plaster pen cup you bought for him. “Work has been tiring lately. Nothing to stress over.”

You plop into the chair in front of his desk, resting your arms on the top and putting your head in between your palms.

“I can tell when you lie. Tell the truth.”

He looks away. What was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t get you out of his brain, and that you’re the only thing he can focus on? That’ll scare you off for sure!

“Aventurine?? You there?” you wave a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his daze once more. “You know, you don’t have to lie. I already know what you’re thinking.”

His eyes slightly widen, just enough for you to notice. You giggle very lightly before continuing on with your sentence. “You have a little crush, don’t you? Don’t worry, I like you back. Seriously, I do.”

He doesn’t know how to reply to that. He doesn’t know if he wants to faint or make out with you right now. “So that makes us…?”

“I don’t know. We could remain friends, we could be boyfriend girlfriend, whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Well, he believes he already knows the answer he’s choosing.

#aventurine #kakavasha #aventurine x reader #kakavasha x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #star rail #star rail x reader

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hollowwrites · 9 months

Note

HC part 2! HC part 2!

(Only if you want to!)

HC part 2! HC part 2!

Loving super tall Ominis. I'll always love a good height difference 🥵

Ominis Headcanons Pt. 2

So when I said I thought about a little more, I lied I went a tad mad

I’ll refer to MC as Evelyn throughout this cause she’s my ship with Omi. This is basically my notes page. Things may conflict. Who cares? If anything grabs you please ask about it. You guys inspire me for way too much of my stuff 💚

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

Family (Angsty…)

Some waffle about Ominis can’t be alive past 50 because of Tom Riddles family tree? No. He separates from his family after he’s 18. He uses his Aunts notes to prove that she has passed away and because of this he learns she left everything she owned to Ominis. He uses her money (I like to think it’s the majority of the Gaunt fortune because she’s not a blood purist therefore is sensible with her money not spending it on trinkets and Slytherin heirlooms) to legally separate from his family so they scorch him from the records.

I think the developers gave Ominis blonde hair to win Malfoy points but I also think it symbolises his separation from his family. Tom Riddle and Art of the Gaunt Family all have dark hair so our boi Omi is physically different compared to them not just mentally. It also might help him later to disassociate from his family because he doesn’t look like them.

I genuinely can’t remember if this was mentioned in game or not (I stop playing after Beasts Class and pretend that nothing bad happens to any of our bois) but I imagine he’s suffered Crucio quite a few times. If his family are cruel enough to do it once, they’d do it multiple times.

I mention this in my Blindsided fic but I feel like Crucio would leave a scar behind. Avada Kedavra does so why not Crucio huh? Is it because I wanted Eve to tend to his wounds and try to remove the scarring?…maybe. Do I care if it makes any sense at all? No!

Obviously because of this I feel like Ominis is covered in scars. Always hidden so no one can see how horrible a family they are…even though everyone already knows.

Patronus

His Patronus is a difficult one. I was Googling animals that have some of Ominis traits so I’ve narrowed it down to three:

Spider - I read an article ages ago debating whether or not spiders or insects in general feel pain or not. They either don’t or have a high tolerance for pain. So I feel like with how often Ominis gets tortured he’d have grown a tolerance for it like a Spider.

Vampire Bat - …I like Vampire Ominis what can I say? No obviously they use echolocation like his wand and they sleep in the day…need I say more?

A Blind Basilisk - THE UNINTENDED FORESHADOWING. Plus a basilisk is a dangerous snake, blind or not blind, like Ominis. People would maybe underestimate a blind basilisk thinking it would be easier to take down with its main weapon taken from it but I would still not want mess with one. JUST LIKE OMI

Either way I think once he falls in love with Eve his Patronus would change to Dove (I headcanon that Eves Mom used to call her a dove and her wand is a bird skull)

Speaking of Patronus’ he wouldn’t be able to cast one until he met Sebastian.

His first memory he could use to conjure a Patronus would be when Sebastian asks him to stay with him over the holidays. The mixture of guilt, relief, happiness and sadness he feels is powerful enough to cast one.

Second would be looking after Eve after she got Crucio’d in the Scriptorium. Despite the horrible origin of the day he looks back at it fondly. It’s where him and Eve truly started to bond and probably where his feelings for her originated.

General HCs

He snaps his wand a lot. It’s constantly in his hand and Sebastian is a trying person to be around so I imagine he just grips it too hard and snap. Learns to fix it himself after one too many visits to Ollivanders.

Maybe he completely snaps it one day after he separates from his family and has to get a completely new wand. Evelyn points out that it’s a lighter wood than before. I know the wood has nothing to do with anything like that but I like the though that he’s free of his dark past and his wand becomes lighter because of it

His boggart is just an amalgamation or screams and torture he’s pretty used to it. I go in detail here

He definitely grows up to be the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher just to rub it in his families face. Plus I think he’s close with Hecat she would put him forward for the position. Maybe he quits before Dumbledores era to travel with Eve finding ancient magic spots.

Thinking about the mirror of Erised is tricky with the boi cause blind BUT I think his deepest desire is just peace so maybe when he ‘looks’ into the mirror he can hear the wind blowing through grass and can smell roses, the distant sound of Eve and Sebastian laughing. I think he gets to live that anyway…he deserves it.

Relationshipy stuff (NSFW 🔞)

I don’t think he wants kids… I just can’t see him with them. I know people like Dadimis but…no. Maybe I’m projecting but kids take so much patience which he clearly does not have.

Contrary to everyone else’s opinion but I think he like public signs of affection he’s just a touchy person. He’s always had something in his hands whether it was a stick when he was younger or his wand he’s ALWAYS touching SOMETHING. It grounds him. So he’s touchy when he knows the person doesn’t mind.

I think he’d shamelessly hold Sebastian’s hand everywhere. I don’t think Seb would care either. If it’s comforting then whatever

(NSFW 🔞) So I’m expanding on the choking thing from last time 👀 I don’t think he’d do it in a dominating way, I think it’s more of a feeling thing? I imagine the first time it happened was an accident. He just slid his hand up her chest and went a bit too far up. He felt the vibrations of her moaning against his hand, yeah he can hear it but feeling it is better. After that it’s almost a certainty that his hand will find its way around her neck. Maybe it becomes a dom thing but not originally.

Masterlist

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danikamariewrites · 9 months

Note

what do you think about brattamer batboys/ lucien and eris?👀 like reader is having a massive attitude and is being spoiled and the boys aren’t having any of it😋 I can literally imagine rhys being like , darling don’t whine it’s not a good look😩

Behave Little Fox

Eris x brat!reader

A/n: I went with Eris for this one bc I had it in my head and needed it out lol

Warnings: daddy kink, brat attitude, and suggestive

Eris watches you float around his study, occasionally stopping to admire the little trinkets on the shelves or pickup a book. A soft smile playing on your lips when you found something you liked. It was rare that you were behaving. And today Eris was thankful for your good mood and was praying to the Mother nothing changed.

Yesterday your bratty attitude was like nothing he’d ever seen. After you had yelled at one of the butlers for not getting your lunch right Eris had taken your bedroom to reprimand you for misbehaving. Eris had never been too stern with you, just the right amount where you could push his buttons and then bat your lashes at him to get out of being told off.

Eris knew you just wanted his attention and he felt bad that he’d been extra busy over the last week. Today he decided that you would stay by his side to give the staff a break with dealing with you. He also missed you so this was more for him.

As he watched you put back a golden statuette he cleared his throat, “Darling, come here.” He said with a smile. You skip over to him and he pats his lap for you to sit on. Sitting on his thigh he wraps his arms around you and places a kiss on the crown of your head.

“You’ve been so good today little fox.” He murmurs. You snuggle into his chest, smiling, “I know.” Eris chuckles at your response. He takes your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger tilting your head back to look at him. “Tell you what, if you can keep up your good behavior, just for the rest of today I’ll take you on that shopping spree I promised tomorrow.”

Your eyes light up. Eris had been saying he’d take you shopping for weeks now, but he’d been so busy with being High Lord and all. It was partly why you had been extra bratty lately, all you wanted was his attention. He suggested you go alone one day and you flipped out.

Just as you were leaning in to kiss his perfect pink lips the door to his study flew open. One of his advisors, one that you very much disliked, stumbled in looking panicked and out of breath. Eris sighed asking what he wanted.

As the older male prattled on and on about something needing Eris’s immediate attention you stared daggers at him. The anger on your face growing by the word. The fact that Eris was even entertaining him while you were sitting in his lap was making you see red.

“Are you stupid?” You scream at the advisor, causing him to stop mid sentence. Eris opens his mouth to stop you but you cut him off. “You see the High Lord is busy with his High Lady and you have the audacity to interrupt!? Why don’t you take whatever ‘important’ policy that needs attending and stick it up your old, wrinkly-“

Eris squeezes your cheeks in one hand forcing you to face him. He had that stern look on his face that told you, you were in trouble. “Go, I’ll be there in a minute.” You heard the advisor leave and Eris’ grip gets a little tighter.

“I know you weren’t listening fox but this does need my attention. If I hear you’ve been a good girl while I’m gone you’ll get your reward, and maybe something extra.” You try to smirk through his grip, he pulled you closer to him so your noses were touching. “But, if I hear a whisper of that bratty attitude, all of that goes away and you’re getting punished. Have I made myself clear?”

He lets go of your cheeks and you nod, “Yes daddy.” You say with an innocent tone. He tenses at the nickname. Eris looks as if he’s contemplating going to this emergency meeting or if he’d rather stay here and bend you over his desk.

Standing, you switch spots with him to take his seat. As Eris opens the door he looks back at you. You give him an innocent smile which he returns with a genuine, loving one. You really didn’t want him to leave even though he’d be gone for a few hours. But you were determined to keep your bratty attitude at bay.

You wanted to do it for him. You felt bad he was stressed out lately and the last thing he needed distracting him was you acting out. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath you decide to take a walk. That would help you clear your head.

Out in the gardens you were admiring your favorite flowers that had finally bloomed. Eris had them planted for you when he realized they weren’t in the garden. It had been a few hours since Eris had left for his meeting. You had behaved yourself, stayed away from anyone that annoyed you, and put a smile on your face. You didn’t have anything to really be upset about, knowing you’d have Eris’ attention back soon.

And the thought of your reward was keeping you in line. Eris did have an expensive promise to keep after all. If there’s anything you loved more than Eris it was expensive stuff.

One of your personal guards cautiously approached you, clearing his throat to make himself known, “My Lady,” you look at him, your gaze soft and approachable with an undertone of ‘what could you possibly want’. “The High Lord is finished and is asking for you.”

You stand brushing out the skirt of your dress with a bored look on your face. “Where would he like to see me?” The guard stumbles over his words a little before he spits out that Eris is in your living quarters. You rolled your eyes and stormed past the nervous male.

Entering your living room you smile at Eris. He’s lounging on the soft, forest green couch, swirling a glass of whiskey in his large hand. He beckons you over to him and climb onto his lap.

You peck his cheek with a little giggle, you rest your head on his chest and stare up at him lovingly. “I heard you were good little fox, is that true?” “Mmhhmm.” Eris places a kiss on your temple, “Good girl.” Your cheeks heat up at the sincerity in his voice.

He pulls you to straddle him and puts his whiskey down so his hands can roam your curves. “How about I give you the first part of your reward.” You nod as Eris attaches his lips to your neck, kissing up and down the column of your throat.

———

The next afternoon Eris made good on his promise and took you into the city to go shopping. Anything you wanted he bought it for you.

You found a beautiful pair of heels you really wanted but the store didn’t have your size. Before you could yell at the incompetent sales woman Eris excused her. You looked at him with an angry pout and crossing your arms.

Eris ran his thumb over your cheek, tracing down your face and pulling at your bottom lip. You whine at him, “I really wanted these.” “Then we will order them for you.” He says softly.

You stomp your foot at him whining again. Holding your chin gently he tuts at you, “What did I say about whining little fox?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“Sorry Eris.” You murmur. He smirks at you placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “We’ll order these and you can pick out two more pairs.” You smile at him and bounce on your toes, flinging your arms around him. “Thank you daddy.” You whisper in his ear and he pinches your ass.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris @twsssmlmaa

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #eris acotar #eris vanserra acotar #eris x you #eris vanserra x you #high lord eris #eris vanserra x reader #Eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris vanserra acotar x reader

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jopzer · 8 months

Text

someone made the fatal mistake of indicating that they would like to see me explain why i put every song into the jamie tartt but it's just mitski playlist so. here's that. i cannot be held responsible for how unwell im about to get OR how long this will be LOL

i don’t smoke

so if you need to be mean be mean to me i can take it and put it inside of me

look at that little masochist.

starting off strong with the royjamie flavor on this one

but i don’t think it exclusively applies to rj, i think jamie’s sort of like. he is a dick he knows how to cope with people being dicks he understand it its easy to deal with. someone is a dick to me im going to be a dick back. short and sweet.

that mf is CONSTANTLY poking and prodding roy in s1 until that mf bites him. so that mf bites him. by s3 i think its less of “we are antagonizing each other as enemies” and more like. jamie voice you need to be a dick and i can take it.

if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room you can lean on my arm as you break my heart

this line specifically feels like the rj fight in the finale to me if we’re open and honest and vulnerable with one another

just don't leave me alone wondering where you are i am stronger than you give me credit for

we are all in agreement that jamie needs smothering. i think roy would be hyperaware of Not smothering him if they got into a relationship and i think jamie would feel a little bit like spongebob under the heat lamp

washing machine heart

baby will you kiss me already and toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart? baby, bang it up inside baby, though i've closed my eyes i know who you pretend i am

this is just me doing cocomelon shit to jamie tbh.

even if roy isn’t using jamie as a rebound i think maybe it would not be a stretch of imagination for jamie to Think roy is using him as a rebound

especially if contextualized with like. mom city jamie catching them holding hands in his bed and it’s keeley who pulls away not roy. delicious

nobody

and i don't want your pity i just want somebody near me guess i'm a coward i just want to feel alright

iiiii just think jamie is a sopping wet little creature. yeah he’d kick the shit out of me so so easily and he’s also a terrible asshole but have you considered he’s such a sad lonely little guy sometimes

i also do think he would feel like a coward for not wanting to be alone whether or not he would admit to that feeling

like we saw him back at city we saw him drop those mfs like a sack of potatoes we saw how desperate he was for connection when he came back to richmond

desperate for connection but also for the entirety of season one absolutely unwilling to form meaningful connections; maybe because of his dogshit Coping Mechanisms maybe because he's just on loan and knows he won't be here long maybe hes just an Asshole maybe a deadly cocktail of all of the above lol

i've been big and small and big and small and big and small again and still nobody wants me

yeah. this one feels especially violently jamie LOL

he's been hot shit. he's been richmond's best player. he's also been just one of a million top players at city. he's been the bully and he's been subject to the boys giving it back to him. he's been the center of attention he's been no one at all

and still keeley doesn't want him. roy doesn't want him. we don't really see him pursue anyone else whether or not you want to read that as rj/rjk/jk. fascinates me.

of course people want jamie we know he gets around but i'm talking Meaningful Connections here

remember my name

i need something bigger than the sky hold it in my arms and know it's mine just how many stars will i need to hang around me to finally call it heaven?

again. we see each other. jamie NEEEEEDS someone to smother him to death with love if he's not suffocating on it he doesn't want it!!

jamie surrounds himself with pretty things and pretty people and i don't think he thinks its meaningless or anything but i do think he definitely wants more and that's very evident come s3

'cause i need somebody to remember my name after all that i can do for them is done i need someone to remember me

see above point

but also. hold my hand through some willful misinterpretation of these lyrics. jamie wants to be the fucking best he wants to be a legend he wants to be listed among the greats. clearly not his sole motivation anymore during/post s3 but i do think it's still incredibly important to his character

he can't be some Guy from manchester he wants people to list "tartt" alongside pelé and maradona and what have you. i think this is critical to understanding jamie he refuses to be forgotten

cop car

i get mean when I'm nervous like a bad dog

we do dog metaphor around these parts.

but for realsies i think this is very much jamie even into s3

when he gets defensive he gets mean

like we see him definitely falter with zava, this isn't his only method of shutting down but i do think he's absolutely prone to snarling and biting when he doesn't know how to react

he gets defensive. reverts to being a dick. see: bar scene in finale

i was meant for running fast i pretended you were mine, it made me calm babe

walk with me. s3 royjamie.

or at least how jamie thinks about him if nothing else

which. you know. could help explain his lashing out at the bar.

i've loved many boys, i've loved many girls i don't think about the past, it's always there anyway

this is a cheap shot. i see a little tormented bisexual man and go is anyone gonna chew on that and then dont wait for an answer

mf does Not like dealing with his past or his traumas lol. it's always there anyway.

townie

'cause we've tried hungry and we've tried full and nothing seems enough

fuck off jamie is starving to death and he hasn't ever managed to get rid of that feeling. trust. i'm right about this.

he's fucked around and he's partied and he's done the reckless drinking and he's done the casual coke and he's done meaningful relationship but he can't get anything right.

he's been starved his whole life and he doesn't know how to fix it.

and i want a love that falls as fast as a body from the balcony, and i want a kiss like my heart is hitting the ground

we all know love and violence are inextricable for jamie. they're the same. he's still pulling those apart

i think he's very much the sort of guy who wants it fast and hard and intense and he wants to feel all consumed, wants it to feel dangerous and too much

i'm holding my breath with a baseball bat though i don't know what I'm waiting for i am not gonna be what my daddy wants me to be

i think the holding my breath but i don't know why is Very applicable to jamie's whole deal.

like just in how he copes with his various traumas most of all james

which ties in very fun with the last line. like so much of his arc is that hes Not gonna be what his daddy wants him to be. he's gonna be what his body wants him to be.

i also think this is probably how jamie is in a relationship with roy or roykeeley like he's waiting for something that isnt ever going to come with them because they arent going to hurt him in a way he doesn't Want if they are together

dunno. he fascinates me.

old friend

i haven't told anyone just like we promised have you? every time i drive through the city where you're from i squeeze a little

this verse right here is so so so very royjamie to me okay

we know jamie doesn't like people Poking around in his relationships on TOP of you know. violent homophobia in football world

secret little torrid affair between the two of them. lives in my brain

abbey

i am hungry i have been hungry i was born hungry what do i need?

come onnnnnnnn

this is so jamie it makes me want to pass out

he's so fucking hungry he's always searching for something to hold onto or tear into with his teeth. jamie and hunger are like synonyms to me.

alongside the inability to name what it is he's hungry for!

incapable of admitting that it's love! it's always been love!! most especially from the people he's refusing to accept it from!!

i am something i have been something i was born something what could i be?

jamie's whole life is built on Being Somebody; he is a young, sexy, rich, famous prem player like. he is Somebody. he's Something. he's a footballer but like

who is he beyond that?

i think perhaps mr tartt would have a little bit of trouble answering that one

valentine, texas

let's step carefully into the dark once we're in, i'll remember my way around who will i be tonight? who will i become tonight?

this one may be sort of a stretch but i think jamie very much sort of molds himself to what he knows someone will like in interpersonal relationships?

like he's very head strong very loud personality but when we see him alone with keeley and we see him alone with roy and see him alone with ted they're all Such different people

which is aided by the fact theyre all sort of in different points of his character arc

but i also think he sort of cant help himself when he's alone with someone

stay soft

you stay soft, get beaten only natural to harden up

don't think i really need to explain this one we all saw the boot scene

i am face down on my bed still not quite awake yet thinking of you i tuck my hand under my weight just tell me what you want to do tell me what you want to burn away 'cause i could be your stoker

i think this could be split into two sections but i think it functions SOOO well as one it is important

yeah i'm thinking of you in the low morning light. yeah i can be what you need i can burn away parts of both of us i can make you forget

love me more

if i keep myself at home i won't make the same mistake that I made for fifteen years i could be a new girl i will be a new girl

think this line is just very indicative of jamie's whole brainspace vis a vis his improvement and development

he wants to be someone else so bad by the time s2 comes around. ugh.

here's my hand there's the itch but i'm not supposed to scratch

he seems very much the type to deny himself things

obviously not like. fun stuff. casual stuff.

but i mean like. things that will make him seem Soft. love and what have ye.

i'm not supposed to be someone who wants something i'm not supposed to slake this thirst

be it for gay reasons or otherwise btw. i'm interpreting it bisexual style but you get the idea

i need you to love me more love enough to fill me up love enough to drown it out drown it out, drown me out

i cut some repetition and stuff for brevity's sake comma but

this verse right here. this is the real jamie of the song

fill me up. drown me out. i'm too much even for me (even if i think im gods gift to football).

need to be smothered!!!!! fill me up!!!!! drown it out!!!!! the buzzing in my head and the want in my lungs i cant take it take it from me!!

how do other people live? i wonder how they keep it up? when today is finally done there's another day to come

mom city sadboy era right here

i wash my hair but i don't use conditioner because like. what's the point!!!

should've been me

relive all the ways you still want me i haven't given you what you need you wanted me but couldn't reach me i'm sorry it should've been me

this is jamiekeeley to me

clearly it still tugs at him like. the funeral confessions and inviting to her brazil and fisticuffing in the dirt

whether or not he still feels romantically about her in s3 i think he probably still feels Bad about what a shit he was in s1 specifically to keeley

idk. maybe this one's just me. think he's very very very squirmy about her and roy's relationship to start and then it melts into something Different you know? should've been me. sorry.

geyser

you're my number one you're the one i want and you've turned down every hand that has beckoned me to come you're my number one you're the one i want and I've turned down every hand that has beckoned me to come

royjamie to me.

that line in s3 where keeley says she hasnt seen/heard about jamie being with anyone in a really long time. the way we know roy also not really accepting offers is he.

yall know the fic that's like. the first time they hook up, roy pauses mid thrust to say "this is a one time thing. i'm still messed up over keeley." that sort of vibe

and ram jamming the "had a poster of you on my wall when i was a kid. used to think you were the best." and teaching him to ride a bike and gravitating toward roy all the time and absolutely panting and drooling for his attention any way he can get it its all just like. yeah. you're my number one. you're the one i want.

feel it bubbling from below hear it call, hear it call hear it call to me constantly and hear the harmony only when it's harming me it's not real, it's not real it's not real enough but i will be the one you need the way i can't be without you i will be the one you need i just can't be without you

snifflin and sobbin

all points from the last bit also apply to this bit tbh..

i will be the one you need. i just can't be without you. but theres a fucking volcano in my chest that's telling me to cut ties and run that'll burn us both. i can only understand it when it hurts.

blue light

somebody kiss me, i'm going crazy i'm walking 'round the house naked

how long's a man meant to be alone??

also. well. he does walk around the house naked doesn't he.

he wants so deeply too i think he thinks being loved could fix him. even if it's temporary. even if it doesn't matter. maybe this is why he fucks around so hard in s1 maybe this is why he's still so messed up about keeley after they break up maybe this is why he's o obsessed with roy. we'll never know but man do i think about it!

out there i'm a sharp knife

look me in the eyes and tell me this isn't what the prick signal thing is about

he is a sharp knife. he is cutting through opposing teams he's such a shit and he's efficient and useful and good at what he does

there's something smart to be said about this one specifically but my brain is feeling a little bit like mush

pink in the night

i glow pink in the night in my room i've been blossoming alone over you and i hear my heart breaking tonight i hear my heart breaking tonight do you hear it too?

i'm a big boy i can admit to this being self indulgent

royjamie innit tho

just love the flavor of jamie thinking its unrequited and hes a freak weirdo for being into roy (his ex's ex, his frenemy, his coach, the guy who's gone out of his way again ans again and again to make sure jamie is okay even when he does it with a headbutt and all grumbily and jamie is making it Weird by getting one ounce of affection and love and falling in love) (roy is thinking the same thing but opposite. trust.)

i could stare at your back all day i could stare at your back all day and i know i've kissed you before, but i didn't do it right can i try again, try again, try again

see this bit could actually be jamiekeeley

i never stopped pining. i know i fucked up. please can i try again try again try again i'm better i know how to love you now.

when you combine these two verses you get rjk. trust.

but i can also very much see rj going from a weird fwb thing to a relationship or at least jamie pining over him so much it makes him sick and pretending those kisses are Something. do you get me. you get me.

once more to see you

in the rearview mirror, i saw the setting sun on your neck and felt the taste of you bubble up inside me but with everybody watching us, our every move we do have reputations we keep it secret won't let them have it

SHUT UP!!!!!! ROYJAMIE ANTHEM SHUT UP!!!!!!!

shut up. are you kidding me.

not only do we know jamie is incredibly cagey about people shoving their fingers into his (personal?) love life, we know that this would be Their secret maybe always, maybe to start, no one on this big blue ball would explicitly Know about them

people guess and they guess right but this relationship is sacred its secret its Theirs

they have reputations, after all

and letting people know is opening them both up to a whole world of horrible no good very bad shit storm and and and

aguhuguhaughagaguayga

so come inside and be with me, alone with me alone, with me alone if you would let me give you pinky promise kisses then i wouldn't have to scream your name atop of every roof in the city of my heart

ok this imagery just kinda makes me nauseous move along

thursday girl

glory, glory, glory to the night that shows me what I am as i go to the party on my knees saying take it oh please

party girl isnt he

think we could talk about that as a persona/way to cope but. that might be making things a little deeper than they are. i might be in too deep about mr tartt

and tell me no tell me no tell me no tell me no somebody please tell me no

this however is not me in too deep this is just real

on hand and knee begging someone to tell him no. sometimes it's ted most of the time it's roy. what are you gonna do

a loving feeling

what do you do with a loving feeling if the loving feeling makes you all alone? what do you do with a loving feeling if they only love you when you're all alone?

can we talk about royjamie i've been dying to talk about royjamie

really into the image of jamie pining and being sooo fucking angry about it. how did i get here this is BULLSHIT!!!

i think there is an understanding that they Can't be public even if they Are in a relationship and jamie doesn't even necessarily Want people to know about them but he is fucking punching a wall about it in the privacy of his own home

^ that bit is for the last line ONLY. separate thoughts, making you all alone and loving all alone

i think this could also very very easily be rjk with the trope we all know and love: rk as an established couple and jamie knowing he's just a third to spice things up for them. whether or not he actually is is between you and your maker.

holding hands under a table meeting up in your bedroom making love to other people telling each other it's all good kisses like pink cotton candy talking to everyone but me i'm stayin' on later just in case you come up and ask to leave with me

sorry you want me to believe this is not rj? you want me to believe in my heart of hearts this isn't exactly where they start? i don't believe you. you are lying to yourself and to me.

first love/late spring

wild women don't get the blues but I find that lately i've been crying like a tall child

you saw mom city. you get it.

one word from you and i would jump off of this ledge i'm on baby tell me "don't" so i can crawl back in

he's a good listener by s3 aint he

i just think its interesting who he's listening to. okay

and i was so young when i behaved twenty five yet now i find i've grown into a tall child

i think jamie definitely had to fend for himself a lot as a youngin as the only child of a single mom who was clearly struggling

everyone is always (rightly) calling him a child in s1 but have they considered he's just a 23 y/o teenage girl

i think the "such a child." line from roy uhhh really struck him please look at his face after roy says this. i'm not even making this a royjamie verse but clearly that struck him in some sort of way

to have your childhood hero look you in the eye and belittle you so clearly and concisely in a way that very clearly stung

i dunno. fascinates me. fascinating little creature that jamie tartt.

goodbye, my danish sweetheart

there's nobody better than you it took me a while 'til i knew but you knew from the start it was us, didn't you? it just took me a while 'til i knew

jamiekeeley w, this song.

i think it's also a very rose colored glasses way to view rj

which you know what. makes it a very good rjk song doesnt it.

so, i don't blame you if you want to bury me in your memory i'm not the girl i ought to be, but maybe when you tell your friends you can tell them what you saw in me and not how i turned out to be

pure unadulterated jamiekeeley right here.

i fucked it up. i'm not who i'm supposed to be. i'm not who i was supposed to be for you. but maybe when you tell people about me and about us you can tell them who you wanted me to be because he's better than who i am.

ugh.

there's some kind of burning inside me it's kept me from falling apart and i'm sure that you've seen what it's done to my heart but it's kept me from falling apart

this is so so so so so so jamie. come ON.

there is a fire in him and he doesn't really know how to field it or when to fan it and its burning through him in s1/most of s2.

it's launched him into being one of the best in his sport but it's also ruining the good things around him

little idiot does NOT understand human connection in s1. love him bad.

you're a battler, jamie.

now here i lay as i wonder about you would you just tell me what i'm meant to do? 'cause i've waited and watered my heart 'til it grew you can see how it's blossomed for you

you know who's really really good at telling jamie what to do.

and i don't mean to make your heart blue but could we be what we're meant to be? i'm just about to beg you, please and then, when you tell your friends you can tell them what you saw in me and not the way i used to be

back to jk with this one. i personally believe it's very rjk but it's textually very jk.

i'm better than i was. please believe in me. lets try again and lets be better than we were i know how to love you now.

humpty

i broke our belongings they're all on the floor the room is now empty nothing left to throw all the eggshells are on the ground and i try, i'm trying to pick them up but they crack and crumble, it's all too much too frail for me to touch

idk if i can really justify this one much outside of my own head it's just real okay.

i think jamie knows he chronically fucked up with keeley. i think he also knows he can and will lash out with very little provocation.

he's trying to pick up what he fucked up (think early s2) but it's a fucking nightmare and he's gonna have to slog around with tweezers to pick up the pieces of what he fucked

i'm realizing this song is very roy also but of course it is they're the same guy as much as they are fundamentally different

i broke what you gave me but you kept giving more and I'm sorry for taking but I keep wanting more, more, more

see all above points and ttb for my thoughts about the black hole in jamie tartt's chest

shame

i never was very good i haven't been so good but right outside the door nobody knows they're right outside the door and they don't know how it feels so good it feels so good

right outside the door everyone knows. they know it.

i think this ones sort of up to interpretation

idk. is it sexy? is it the ache in him in knowing how awful he was for so long? is it both and neither?

my brain is turning to mush i think. too much jamie in the diet

class of 2013

mom, i'm tired can i sleep in your house tonight? mom, is it alright if i stay for a year or two?

listen. jamie does not have this brand of mommy issues. i'll own up to that.

i hear the word "mom" and enter a fugue state thinking about mom city

this one's just for me it doesn't have to make sense

liquid smooth

i'm liquid smooth, come touch me, too and feel my skin is plump and full of life i'm in my prime i'm liquid smooth, come touch me, too i'm at my highest peak, i'm ripe about to fall, capture me or at least take my picture kuzurete yuku maeni i'm pulsing, my blood is red and unafraid of living beginning to end

c'mon.

he is a fine young thing. and sneaking in the "before i fall apart?" yeah. real.

jamie thesis. i'm young and sexy i'm in my fucking PRIME touch me take a picture of me remember me remember me i'm holding on by the skin of my teeth. don't look too hard because i might start to crumble in your hands.

brand new city

i think my fate is losing its patience i think the ground is pulling me down i think my life is losing momentum i think my ways are wearing me down

i think you could narrow this moment of his down to mom city where he is just so Lost.

but i think more appropriately you could absolutely name his whole arc in late s1/early s2

this stupid life i stupid lead is causing everything to crash down around me but i don't know how else to live or act or behave

i'm jamie fucking tartt!!

but if i gave up on being pretty, i wouldn't know how to be alive

i just think this is him don't mind me

like obviously he's more than his pretty he is jamie fucking tartt and he's a shooting star at what he does. yeah, i work hard. but.

i also think being pretty and being desired is his like. number two personality trait

or at least thats what he wants us to see him as. you know??

eric

you like control, well, i do too take off my clothes and watch me move you can come closer, i'll let you hurt me how you choose

well. we've all seen how roy and jamie interact with one another haven't we.

but how long, how long can we play this way i'm tired, i'm tired of not loving you my heart, my heart wants to hold you but i know, i know, i know the rules blue light, dark room, the white of your teeth as you smile at my trembling shoulders but your skin, did you notice your skin it cries a soft weep like mine i'll sell, i'll sell my heart to you what's my, what's my, what's my price? how 'bout, how 'bout just a part of you? 'cause i want, i want, i want, i want i want, i want, i want, i want, i want

i really did try to narrow this down and not include almost uhhhh the whole rest of the song but good GOD. royjamie anthem.

jamie wants SOOOO BADLY!!!!!! but has almost certainly convinced himself it's just sex with roy!!! doesnt matter if roy is tits over tail obsessed with him (canonical) or if it actually just IS rebound sex.

this is real to me. sorry. royjamie anthem.

he wants.

door

i looked out at the dark and wondered how could I have lost it? a hopeless violence i named it love

so. i did not want to include an entire song twice in a row but this song very much tells a story you kinda gotta listen to the whole thing to get the picture

but

i think this one is VERY jamiecore.

denying himself this integral part of himself as both like. a man living in a very masculine sphere of the world on top of being a victim of abuse that canonically leans in on his masculinity

swearing to be so tough his dad could never call him soft again??

and also jamie's whole like. proximity to love and violence and presentation and consumption

idk if this is making any sense but god it IS real.

i lost this part of me and this part was love and real human connection and it is a gnawing biting clawing thing i need to love and be loved in a way that scares me and most often with teeth tearing into me. augh.

real men

real men don't need other people, and real men suck it in real men don't flinch or bleed in public oh, i think i'm a real man

look at me in my eyes and tell me this isn't Exactly jamie's thought process in s1. arguably even through his character arc to the end.

though honestly, sir all i wanna do is get naked in front of you so you can look me up and down and give me your love for being so good but little boys hold me, color me praise me, make me feel lovely for a little while so little boy, say you want me 'cause, well, i can't take it go ahead do it, do it

sorry. you want Me? a royjamie? to be normal about these verses?

especially when jamie's whole thing is fucking. making himself desirable and putting on a show. peacocking is his #1 favorite activity of all time.

and roy's whole thing is. well. roy's whole thing. watching him with his eyes glued to the little fuck even when he's sucking his teeth so so so angrily and spitting mad

i just think jamie loves an audience whether or not its good for him and roy can't do anything but watch. they're trapped. sisyphiean in nature aint it.

#beebles #jamie tartt #ted lasso #royjamie #royjamiekeeley #jamiekeeley #those ones are on a technicality but i think probably important to tag #disclaimer: this is for fun #also if anyone has thoughts or additions or anything for the love of god hmu #im so so crazy rabid insane about mr tartt #um this was very fun actually.#havent done this since i did it for all my terror playlists i forget how fun it is every time

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