love your account! maybe jealous art, patrick, or tashi headcanons? like individually them and reader. can be nsfw or not :)
thank you lovely!! i’m so glad to hear that🥹🫶🏾 i’ll do you one better n just do all three of them!
enjoy jealous art, patrick, and tashi :)
Art Donaldson:
- extremely jealous
- literally feels sick with jealousy
- terrible at hiding his jealousy too
- if he feels someone is being too flirty with you, he calls you his gf fifty times in one conversation
- yeah my GIRLFRIEND loves that show too, yeah my GIRLFRIEND is such a good cook, yeah my GIRLFRIEND is the best person in the world
- he does this all with an unnaturally wide smile on his face too
- he trusts you with his life, he literally would believe you killed a bunch of people before he’d believe you’d cheat on him so you’re not the problem
- his problem lies in other hungry losers who eye you whenever you wear your cute tennis outfits to go practice with him
- has to remind himself it’s not reasonable to fight people who look at you too much </3
- his jealousy problem stems from a deep insecurity that you’ll leave him for the better option
- always incredibly clingy after he gets into one of his jealous moods
- bro needs therapy
Patrick Zweig:
- hear me out yall… i don’t think patrick gets jealous like that
- he knows hes hot shit
- he doesn’t care if people flirt with you because he knows you’ll shut it down and you’re deeply in love with him, why worry?
- once in a while he does get jealous and he’s tweaking BADDD
- his internal monologue goes CRAZY he’s wishing death on everyone n their mother
- in a god awful mood when he’s jealous
- it has nothing to do with you, he trusts you with everything in him he just hates other people perceiving you
- will make out with you in front of people n then give them a subtle middle finger when you’re not looking
- petty as hell before he goes back to being nonchalant
- this happens once a month
- he also needs therapy
Tashi Duncan
- she’s above jealousy
- sure it irks her that people can just look at you but she’s not worried
- you’re deeply in love with her and she’s deeply in love with you so why would she gaf about random people staring at you with heart eyes
- cause she gets it, she also stares at you with heart eyes
- the difference is, your heart eyes are reserved for her n her only
- the majority of jealousy in your relationship comes from your side actually
- how can it not? your girlfriend is the best tennis player in the whole country and everyone loves her
- if she does get jealous, it’s brief
- she communicates her feelings and expects you to do the same so jealousy isn’t really a threat to your relationship
- mature tashi for the win!
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I saw your dad vox things and they're great! Could I request fem!reader and Valentino as her dad. Reader tells him she has a gf ( val thought she was straight) and how he would react. Thanksss♡
I actually have two requests for this! @absolut3lyn0t this one is for you too!
I took a deep breath as I stood outside of my fathers studio. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I thought about the conversation I needed to have with him. Fear knotted in my stomach, and nausea flowed through me. I wished beyond all belief that I could skip through time and be done with this discussion,or better yet, keep it to myself for just a little while longer. But the dance was two days away and my Papi would find out one way or another. Better to have him be upset privately than to hurt my girlfriend's feelings.
Girlfriend. The word itself sent butterflies coursing through my tummy. At seventeen I had of course been out on dates. All with guys. All who had come face to face with my father before I was even allowed out the door. But she, she was different. We shared our first kiss at a sleepover a month ago, and our relationship sealed itself in passed notes and secret kisses out of the sight of my Uncle Vox’s thousand cameras. Thankfully, my father thought she was a friend and had no issue with me going out to the mall or to sleepovers, or dinner with a friend. As long as I had my tracker on my wrist, I had a specific degree of freedom. After all, my Uncle Vox had eyes everywhere- there was no real use for a bodyguard.
When I told my father about the dance, he asked instantly who would be picking me up. I kept it as vague as I could, and told him I hadn’t decided yet. He chuckled, ruffled my hair and told me he couldn’t wait to meet the young man who would be escorting me. The thought that I liked girls had never been a discussion, or even a consideration for my father. Now with only days to go, and my girlfriend planning on picking me up before the dance, I knew I needed to tell my dad the truth.
I like girls, Dad, the thought played over and over in my head. Dad, I like girls.
I tried not to think about how he might react, but the fear still knotted in my stomach. What if he was angry? What if he didn’t accept me? Or worse, even, what if he kicked me out, called me a disappointment and refused to ever acknowledge me as his daughter again?
The elevator door opened and my father looked over from his director's chair. The stage was empty, which meant I had caught him at a good time- between shoots, not in the middle.
“Ah, pequeño amor, what are you doing here?” Valentino asked as he stood up. “Bebita, I know you’re technically old enough, but I really don’t want you in here.”
“Daddy? Can I talk to you in your office? It’s about the dance.” I said as he came over to me, his red robe sweeping behind him. “Do you have a minute?”
“For you, bebita? I have many minutes. Come, come.” He planted a kiss on my forehead and led me to his office.
The door closed behind us and I crossed my arms uncertainly. My father’s expression softened as soon as the door closed and he planted another kiss on my forehead before running his hand down my check, pausing and holding my chin so I looked at him.
“What’s the matter, cariño?” Valentino asked gently. “You look sad, niñita. Did your boyfriend bow out of the dance?” His eyes began to glow red, “did he hurt you?”
“Papi, that’s sort of what I need to talk to you about, there is no he.”
Valentino stared at me and released my chin. “What do you mean, bebita?”
“I mean he is a she,” I replied, looking down. “I have a girlfriend, Dad. Not a boyfriend. And I really like her.”
He blinked. “Oh. Alright then. Sorry, did she bow out on you? Did she hurt you?” The palm of his hand found my chin again and tilted my head up to meet his eyes. “Bebita, why are you crying?” He released my face and folded me into his arms. “Shussh, niñita. Papi is here. Who does Papi need to kill?” His hand gently stroked my hair, “just give me a name, pequeño amor. Papi will take care of the rest.”
“No, Daddy, I…she didn’t hurt me, I love her I just…she’s a her,” I replied, my voice muffled by his jacket.
“Bebita. I understand what lesbianism is.”
I sniffled. “You’re not mad?”
I felt his grip on me tighten. “ Is that what this is about?” He pushed me out from his chest and held me by my shoulders, his eyes meeting mine. “No, ninita. I’m not. I’m the overlord of lust and depravity- there is nothing you can tell me that I haven’t seen. You love who you love, and no matter who you love…” He planted a kiss on my forehead. “Doesn’t make me love you any less. You’ll always be Daddy’s little girl.”
Out in the studio, the bell that called his workers back to the stage rang out. He released me, and I could feel his gaze as he studied me.
“Are you okay, bebita?”
I nodded but wrapped myself back into him. He again put his his arms around me and stroked my hair. All the fears, the stress, the anxiety of having to tell him came flooding out.
“Sweetheart, hey, bebia. Papá está aquí. Daddy is here. Shussh. It’s okay. I’m not mad, I promise. Come now, dry your tears.”
I continued to sob and he sighed and held me out by my shoulders.
“I need you to breathe, and I need you to think, ninita. Have I ever once indicated that I would love you any less? For anything?”
I shook my head no. He folded me back into his arms.
“Then why, bebita, is this any different?” You’re still my bebe niña. My little girl. So enough with the tears,” he used the sleeve of his jacket to dab at my face. “Bebita, what can I do to prove to you I love you? Talk to Papi.”
“You promise you’re not mad?” I asked as the tears slowed. I put my head on his chest and felt him sigh.
“I promise I am not mad, Bebita.” He squeezed me tighter. “How about this? You sit in here and do your homework and I’ll go back to work. When I’m finished we can go out to dinner and you can tell me all about her, okay conejito?”
His little bunny. I smiled at my childhood nickname and nodded. “Sounds good, Papi.”
“Good. Now do your homework, I’ll let Uncle Vox know I’m checking it tonight. So do your best work.” He gave me a gentle nudge towards his desk. “And stay out of the bottom left drawer.”
As I settled down in his oversized chair, I married my pencil across the paper. Relief and excitement washed over me. It had been forever since we had spent time together. I couldn’t wait to tell him all about her.
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