#The heart (?) thing being painted yellow is interesting to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rotthepoet · 4 days

Text

Come Home (Dark!Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

Notes; DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Matty has been plaguing my mind and I need an outlet omg. I lowkey rewrote some lore for this, so essentially the battle of Hogwarts takes place but Voldemort's influence still lives on through Mattheo, who basically runs the new Knights of Walpurgis(The slytherin boys). Everyone is evil, all good business.

Warnings; again, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Mattheo, Murder/death/gore, stalking, kidnapping, mattheo might highkey be ooc but its fine, dubcon(reader REALLY wants him but like.. morals?), oral(F! And M!), mention of fem masturbation, predator/prey dynamic, spitting, degradation, lowkey breeding kink?, piv, lowkey porn with plot, Stockholm syndrome if you squint, at least he kinda gets a redemption arc

This one goes out to my beautiful @nottswitch i hope dark!mattheo comes to life and fucks us both <3

Word count; 6.3k

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

The bitter breeze in the frigid air pricks through my thin shirt as the diner door swings open and shut again as a customer disappears into the icky black of our winter night. I stare out after him, a farewell unspoken on my lips as I cast my gaze towards an orange, flickering lamp post lining the parallel street, and I realize how truly cold it is inside the shabby eatery.

As I tug the embarrassingly short, mandated skirt I'm forced to wear, I can only think of the comforting and safe walls of Hogwarts, my home only months ago, yearning for the soft crackle of a fireplace and the ambient chatter of portraits lining the walls. The muggles had nothing as interesting, nothing as familiar as the light of the silver moon passing through the large windows of the great hall. Nothing as comfortable as my own home back in England, with my mother and fathers smiling faces. Nothing as comfortable as the safe, unscarred arms of the once-kind boy I loved what feels like so long ago.

Being on the lam for about a month now, I've been skipping towns and laying low where I can. It’s not often, but when I'm able to stay in a town for longer than a week, I take pitiful muggle jobs, my current being to take orders at a local diner, “famous for their milkshakes”, although fame must mean four regular visitors in this nowhere town.

Jean, the gray-haired woman who owns the diner I work at, leans over the counter and points at the analog clock hanging on the wall. It reads almost 1:30, and it finally sets in how tired I am. She hums and looks me up and down, standing in the middle of the floor, standing stiff as a board while holding a broom. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, a small smile gracing her aged face.

“I’m sorry, I zoned out.” I apologize, leaning the non-flying broom against a nearby booth, and smooth out my wind-swept hair.

Jean just shakes her head, “Go on and head home. You did good today.” she hums in approvement, tossing me my room key that was previously hanging on a hook in the kitchen. “Be careful out there, the papers said another storm is coming.” she warned, but a storm is the furthest thing from my mind as I push open the door. Silver light flashes across the street and my heart nearly stops beating, a pit forms in the bottom of my stomach. My eyes squint, finally adjusting to the lack of light, catch the face of a mannequin in the window of a shop. I let out a breath I don’t realize I’m holding and relax as I realize the moon had simply caught the silver details on the faux person. I turn on my heel and carry on down the dimly lit pavement towards my motel.

It’s just as run down as everything else in this town, water stains stretching across the ceiling like swatches of muddy paint, and the hideous carpet crunches underneath my feet. It isn’t much. It is nothing, in fact, but a roof over my head and sanctuary from the ruthless dangers outside.

I drop each article of clothing from my body onto the yellowing tile of the bathroom floor, stepping into the freezing cold water of the shower. I shudder, goosebumps racking through my body as I allow the water to wash away the grease and sweat, I collected today. I run a baby blue loofa over my skin, suds washing away with the now lukewarm stream. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and the smell of metallic rust from the old pipes fills my nostrils.

Blood. So much blood. It covers my hands, and my knees, my face, and my clothes. I practically wade through a pool of it, the dark hallways of that god awful manor stretch on infinitely, and the smell of rot and decay suffocates my senses. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as his strong arms wrap around me as I collapse to the floor, and I'm hyper aware of the many motionless bodies lying at my feet. His lips brush against my neck, rough and wet, and I wonder if they have blood on them too. I wouldn’t put it past him. Malicious is not a word I thought I would ever use to describe my lover, the man I thought I was going to marry one day, but like many other things before, he proved me wrong. His warm hands caress the soft fat of my thighs, slipping underneath the loose fabric of my shorts, and he leans into my ear. “They’re all gone now… Let’s go take a shower.”

I release a shaky breath and turn off the water, letting it drip from my head and down my face, mingling with salty tears. Wiping my face with my wet palms, which did nothing in retrospect, I sigh. I can’t go back there; I can never go back there. It isn’t safe anymore. He isn’t safe anymore. Come on, I can’t keep feeling bad for myself. This is ridiculous, and as I step out of the shower and dress myself, I feel a newfound sense of determination. Sleep, for the first time in months, finds me easily with her warm embrace.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

As most things in my life do, my high spirits came to an abrupt end. Smoke fills my lungs, but there's a strange taste to it. It’s not a fire, no, it was tobacco. A smell I was all too familiar with. I sat up in bed, and my eyes met the inky black eyes of his silver, skull mask. My breath catches in my throat, only for me to cough out the smoke from his cigarette.

He couldn’t have found me this easily. It’s a bad dream, it has to be. Merlin forgive me, God save me, tell me this is just a dream! The mask on his face shifts a little, clearly amused at my coughing fit. “Have anything to say?”

Say anything. Stop gaping at him like a fish, you are a powerful witch, almost top of your class in DADA. Almost. Second place, notably. Right behind him.

Mattheo Riddle.

A sob racks through my body, tears falling down my cheeks before I even realize, and I’m paralyzed in place. Half of me wants to crawl into his arms, to beg for forgiveness, to beg for him to take me home. Home to that wretched, dark house, with blood seeped into the wood. With blood-stained grout on the kitchen tile. With blood-stained walls. So, so much blood. The other half of me screams at me to run. To run, to run, run, run, RUN! For god's sake, run!

I push myself out of bed, fast enough to catch Mattheo by surprise. He flicks his cigarette to the side, letting it roll along the carpet floor. My hand reaches for my wand resting on a table beside the door as I duck out of his reaching arms, and I stumble to my feet as he lunges after me. I throw open the door, pulling it shut in his face as he screams for me.

“You bitch! Come back here!” he screams through the wood, struggling with the now sweat-slick doorknob.

The door splinters open with the blast of, “Bombarda!”, but I scramble down the wet, cold streets, my bare feet scratch against the rough pavement as I sprint, thankful that it had been just warm enough to not freeze. I duck down another street, pulling out my wand to apparate elsewhere. I rack my brain for a safe location. Hogwarts? I might be able to, but I don’t want to risk splinching. My job? It might separate me long enough to get my shit together.

Air is knocked out of me as a heavy body slams into mine, knocking my wand out of my hand. A heavy, black boot pins my wrist to the ground, and a silver mask that was not Riddle’s leans over me. He laughs under the mask, but I can’t tell which of his mentally fucked goons had caught me. I reach for my wand, but another set of boots kicks it out of my reach. Leather gloved hands grab my hair and lift me up to face the group now circling me.

“She looks pitiful, really. Like an angry kitten.” An Italian accent draws next to my ear with a mocking snicker, and I thrash to kick Theodore Nott anywhere I can, luckily landing a solid blow to his shin. He curses in pain, and hisses something inaudible underneath his mask as he throws me back to the ground. The rough concrete scratches against my exposed skin, drawing blood from the soft flesh. I yelp in pain, landing at the feet of someone else. A black, steel-toed boot presses against my cheek, pushing my head to the side as I watch another figure ominously approach. I would recognize my Mattheo’s casual amble anywhere, and he peered down at my stray wand laying at his feet.

I don’t even have time to protest as he steps his boot onto the wood, sparks fizzing out around the magic object as it snaps under his weight. A choked sob escapes me as he approaches, my eyes wide with horror and betrayal.

“Enough of this, love. It’s time to come home,” He drawls, kneeling down to my level and lifting my chin to meet his empty gaze. “Be a good girl and come back to me, I’m tired of this little game of yours.”

“Fuck. You.” I spat on the silver of his skull-like mask, noting the wild look in my own eyes as the saliva slips down its reflective surface.

Mattheo groaned and tugged off his mask, and my breath caught in my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t think this awful man who betrayed me, threatened me, hunted me down, can still be attractive. Then again, he was still the man I had loved–part of me still does love– all those years ago. The handsome face I fell asleep looking at, the doe eyes I found comfort in. He looked roguish now, his brown curls were longer than the last time I had seen him, and he had a new scar running across his cheek from our last encounter. My mouth goes dry as he leans into my face, his breath hot against my lips.

“I’ve missed you, love,” He practically purred, pressing his dry lips against my trembling ones. I whine against him, wriggling my body underneath the heavy weight of whoever was holding me.

Mattheo groaned, gripping my chin harder, “You used to be so obedient, pet, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you.” he mumbled, kissing my forehead as I felt his wand pressed to my temple. He mumbled an incantation against my skin, and I felt my body go limp before my eyes closed themselves, and sleep consumed me.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

It was cold, damp, and reeked of copper and mold. My body laid on the floor, sore and unresponsive to my will to move. As my senses came back to me, I tried climbing to my feet, but a chain tugged my ankle back to the floor. I tumbled to the stone floor, scraping my hands against its rough surface. I whimper in pain, and only as I go to wipe my hands on my pants do I realize I’m completely nude. Horror racks through my body as I take in my surrounding and own appearance. I know I'm back in that old house, that old, disgusting, horrible house of horrors, and tears fall from my stinging eyes again.

I don’t know how long I laid on that floor, shaking from the cold as I sob into the air, screaming and cursing with conviction, damning Riddle’s name to an eternity in hell. I scream, and wail, and cry until I tire myself out, my voice breaking into nothing but a hushed plea for freedom.

I fight sleep, sitting myself against a wall near my chain, breathing deep into my burning lungs. My eyes drift closed, but I will them open as the loud creak of a door alerts me. It’s only then that I notice a stairwell, casted in a white light with the newly opened door, and my heart nervously skips a beat as a tall shadow approaches the stairwell. The stairs creak under his weight as he descends to what I can only infer is a basement, and I stare up at his form.

Mattheo wasn’t nearly as scary like this, dressed in black slacks and a loose white shirt. Had he not been so threatening, and the reason I was chained to the basement floor, I would have swooned over the top buttons being undone. Perhaps I still do get butterflies in my stomach, but that may just be nausea.

He looks down at me with an expression I can only describe as mock sympathy, clicking his tongue softly. “Down here for less than three hours and you’ve already managed to hurt yourself,” he scolded me, shaking his head in disappointment, “My clumsy girl, what am I going to do with you?”

The smile he cracked made me want to claw his eyes out, or kiss him, and I worry that he may have slipped me a love potion. My ears ring, and my head suddenly aches with a mild pain, and Mattheo smirks.

“Like the shirt, do you?” He teased, kneeling down to my level. I curse under my breath, face heating up with anger (Or embarrassment, I can’t really tell), of course I forget he’s a legilimens. “Drop the act darling, I know you’re going to crack eventually. Save us both the trouble so I can finally bring you back to bed.” His warm hand tenderly caressed my cold cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into the comforting touch. “I hate seeing you down here like this, but you need to remember your place.”

My eyes snap back to his, and I whip my head to the side to bite his hand. He scowls and rips his hand away, reeling it back and back-handing me across the face. It knocks my breath out of my chest, and the rings on his fingers cut my cheek. Metallic blood drips to the floor.

“Fine. Stay down here and bleed out for all I care.” He snaps, rubbing his sore hand as he turns on his heel and storms up the stairs. The door slams loudly behind him, and I’m engulfed in sudden darkness.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

My cheek and hands had long stopped bleeding the next time he came back, staining my skin red with its slick. My head lifts as the door opens again, and light makes my eyes dilate painfully. Mattheo trudges down the stairs, his head hanging low, and a small white box hanging from his hand. He approaches me and kneels at my level. I meet his gaze, glaring into his soft eyes.

“Darling, you know I didn’t mean to hit you, right?” He mumbled, holding my chin to twist my cheek towards him, his rough actions bringing tears to my eyes. “I was just so worked up, and you were pushing too many buttons, you’ll forgive me, right?” He asks hopefully, but I don’t answer him.

He sighs in defeat, opening the little box and retrieving a cloth and bottle full of a clear liquid. My eyes go wide, and I scramble backwards as far as the chain allows me to. “No, No, Mattheo please don’t-” I plead, heart racing as he looks at me with confusion.

A smile breaks across his face, “Oh darling, no, no, it’s just alcohol.” he laughs a bit, a deep sound that makes pleasant shivers run down my spine and too an embarrassing heat between my legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? He approaches me again, dousing the cloth with the solution before taking my hands. He shushes my soft whines as he presses it to my scraped palms, which makes me hiss at the burning sensation. “Good girl, there we go. That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asks as he takes a roll of gauze from the box and wraps each of my hands. He lifts my palms to his lips, pressing a storm of soft pecks and kisses to the gauze and skin. My face heats up at the gesture, and I force myself to look away. He was always so chivalrous for a monster, though it hurt to call him that even after everything.

He presses the cloth to my cheek next, his thumb tracing calming circles into the opposite cheek. “Such a pretty girl, my pretty girl.” He whispered, placing a bandage over my skin. Just like my palms, he kisses my cheek, though much slower and intimate this time. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know?” he promised, leaning over my trembling body. He looked down at me, eyes drifting past my collarbone, and he whistled softly. “A sight for sore eyes… and It’s all mine.” He smirked, leaning down as he supported his weight on his forearms. His chapped lips press suspiciously soft kisses to my neck. A loud thud coming from upstairs makes Mattheo groan and pull away. He looks down at me, wide eyed beneath him, “I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He hummed, patting my cheek as he stood up.

He casts me one last yearning glance before he shuts the door again, much softer this time. I lean back against the stone, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and try to ignore the wetness between my thighs as I drift off to sleep.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I’m startled awake as the basement door slams shut, and heavy footsteps descend to my prison. Mattheo storms into view, and before I can even get a word out, he grabs me by the hair and pulls me up to my knees. He sneers down at me, and my head is spinning from the sudden switch up.

“Incompetent assholes. Have to do everything myself around here,” He mumbled, not really speaking to me rather than himself. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my hair as his other hand tugs apart the button of his slacks.

My eyes go wide with shock, and he pulls my hair, forcing my chin up to look at him. “Open your mouth,” He demands, his voice lacking his previous warmth, and I'm reminded that this is not my Matty. My lip quivers and I shake my head slightly. Mattheo pulls his half-hard cock from the confines of his black briefs and pulls me by the hair to his tip. “I don’t have time for this attitude, I said open your mouth.”

I don’t even have a moment to react before his leaking tip is pressed against my mouth. He pushes his way past, groaning as my wet lips engulf his mushroomed tip. He pulls on my hair again, forcing himself further into my warm hole. “There you go, not so hard, was it? Now suck.” He orders in a tone I’ve never heard him use in bed before, and as he bucks his hips towards my face, I whine in protest while the ache returns to my lower stomach. My jaw relaxes on its own, familiar with the girth of his hung cock. An almost inaudible whine slips through my throat, and he groans at the tightness. One more tug lets me know his patience is running thin, and I reach my bandaged hand up to stroke the rest of him while I focus on his tip.

Mattheo bites back a moan, his hips stuttering as I descend further down onto his length. His leaky tip presses against the back of my throat, and he holds my head in place while he rocks his hips further into me. My nose presses against his groin as he slips down the back of my throat, and his grip moves from my hair to my throat, feeling my neck bulge with every movement. Saliva drips past him and down my chin, dribbling to the floor in thick droplets. He shudders as my throat tightens around him, nearly swallowing the head.

“Yeah, yeah… Fuck baby. Keep going for me, almost there,” He mumbles, rocking his hips faster than before. I whine around him, my own hand slipping down to the ache at my core. My fingers gingerly brush against my clit, and the soft moan I try to let out makes Mattheo’s head roll back. Hot spurts of his seed shoot down my throat and my glossy eyes go wide at the feeling.

“Swallow,” Is all he says, and obediently, I do. He pulls my head off of him, his cum mixing with the drool in my mouth when it drips down my chin. He grips my face between his index finger and thumb, collecting the mess with a swipe of his finger and pushing it back into my sore mouth. “All of it.”

When I satisfied him, he pushed me back to the ground, and I yelped in pain as I collided against the stone surface. “When I come down here, I want you on your knees waiting for my dick. Understand?”

I nod weakly, and he smirks down at me. “Good girl. Keep it up and maybe I’ll bring you back upstairs.” He says, before pulling back up his pants and running a hand through his hair.

When he leaves again, I’m left with an unbearable, wet mess.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

With nothing else to do in my makeshift prison, I sleep a lot. And when I wake up, I force myself to sleep again. I sleep God knows how long before the door opens again, and Mattheo trudges down the stairs. I scramble to my knees, honestly fearing what might happen if I disobey him, and when Mattheo catches sight of me, he smiles.

“There’s my pretty girl.” He hums, holding a platter with a bowl of something steaming, a slice of some sort of bread, and a bottle of water. My stomach growls as its divine aroma fills my senses, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten.

Mattheo sits down in front of me and puts the tray between up. He rests his elbow on his knee and leans into his palm. “Eat,” he orders me, gesturing to the platter with the wave of his free hand. “Or would you prefer I feed you myself?” He asks with a smirk, watching how I shift from my knees to rest on my hip. I grab the water bottle first, chugging half of it in one go, before I subconsciously offer him a sip. What’s mine is his. Was his. Was. I look up at him, taking the water and sipping from it. I tore my gaze away before he noticed.

“I don’t want to stay in the basement anymore,” I mumble, dipping the bread into the soup before taking a bite, shivering at its deliciousness. Mattheo sighed and shook his head. “You know I can’t do that yet. You ran away, darling. I can’t trust you won’t do that again,” He explained, reaching his hand across the way to rub my knee soothingly. I sigh and push the tray away, my appetite gone. Mattheo frowned and moved the tray away, leaning over me. “Princess, c’mon, don’t be this way.” he hummed, pushing me onto my back. My heart rate quickened, and he definitely noticed. “But you’re right. I’ve been neglecting you… That’s why you ran away right? My poor girl was lonely and scared.” he hummed, pressing his lips to my collar bone. “Not anymore. My attention is solely on you, I promise.”

My head rolled back a little, lolling onto the floor as he trailed his kisses down my sternum, stopping at my breasts to gently knead them. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I reached for his hair, tugging gently on his loose curls. He groaned in response, his lips finding my perked nipple and taking it into his warm mouth. His other hand slipped down my soft stomach, dipping between my thighs. Out of reflex, I squeezed them together, and Mattheo parted from my tit. He sat back on his haunches, using his strong, scarred hands to pull apart my thighs and admire my glistening, needy cunt.

“It’s been all about me, huh? Need to show my girls some love.” He mumbled, before dipping his head down. His warm breath fanned across my puffy lips, and I shivered at the breeze. He didn’t waste a second more, drawing a long, needy moan from my lips as he licked a long strip from my hole to my clit. My hands tangle into his hair again, and my mouth falls open with pleasure. “Fuck, Matty–” the nickname fell from my lips without a second thought, and he practically purrs against me. His hands grip my thighs, pulling them over his shoulders as he dives nose deep into my pussy. My back arches off the floor as a string of curses flies from my lips. I feel his wet appendage push against my hole, and I clench at the feeling as his nose brushes against my sensitive bud. I tug on his hair again, “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” I mewl, my edge fast approaching as Mattheo swirls his tongue over my clit. He sloppily makes out with my lower lips, pulling me closer to the edge with each passing second, and I’m in near tears when there's a loud crash up above us.

Mattheo practically roars in anger, pulling his soaked face away from my aching cunt, the knot in my stomach loosening at the sudden separation. I whine and sit up, trying to pull him back down, but he stops me with a firm hold on my wrist. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” he ordered, “I need to take care of this, and I promise as soon as I’m done, I’ll come right back.”

Anger flashes through me, and I bite back my cries. “Don’t you dare leave me like this, Riddle.” I snap, and he gives me a warning look that makes goosebumps prick at my skin. He leans in, pressing a wet kiss to my lips, and I can feel him shiver as I lick my own arousal from his lips. “I’ll be right back, princess. Be good for me, and we can talk about a reward.”

And with that, he left yet again.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I was starting to get sick of his mind games, switching up his attitude, finally giving me relief before ripping it away from me. Fuck. What am I saying? I watched him murder dozens of people; I watched lives being taken right in front of me. I shiver at the memory and try to focus on anything else before it becomes too much to bear.

I hate how he makes me feel. Sometimes he’s my Mattheo, and sometimes he’s nothing but a parasite attached to a face I can’t help but love. My back hits a wall, and I can’t count how long he’s been gone. I miss his warm, familiar touch, but anything was better than the cold, dark basement. I close my eyes, my lip trembling as I reach my hand down, fingers hesitantly spreading my folds. Cold air hit my wet lips, and I gasp at the feeling. I brush my fingertips against my hole, whining softly at the pleasure that coursed through my body. Maybe I'm sick in the head, maybe I hit my head too hard one day on the run and never recovered. Maybe I never really hated Mattheo.

What is wrong with me?

I don’t move when the door opens again. I glare at him, anger coursing through my veins. This was not ‘right back’. As Mattheo’s black boot lands on the stone floor, my mouth goes dry. He’s weaning that stupid mask again, and that stupid costume, tilting his head stupidly at me. He approaches me in a way that makes my heart race in fear, like I'm nothing but cowardly prey between the jaws of a large wolf.

He knees down, retrieving his hand from his pocket. Wordlessly, he unlocks the chain around my ankle, and he looks up at me. With another wave of his wand, I’m dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. It’s not much at all, but it’s better than naked. A rush of emotions rushes through my chest, and I almost gratefully throw my arms around Mattheo, but he stops me.

“Go. Run,” He orders, stepping aside. I stare up at him in confusion, mounted to my spot on the ground. “I said run, little pet, like you want to.” He pulls me from the ground, pressing my cold body up against his comforting warmth. “Run, and if I catch you,” he leaned down into my ear, and through the skull mouth of his mask I could feel his breath fanning across my ear. “Well, I think you know what’s going to happen.”

I still don’t move, wondering if he would be less harsh if I stayed with him, but he only laughed. “Such a good girl, don’t worry,” he pulled his mask up just enough to expose his pearly white teeth. They sunk into the soft flesh just beneath my ear, “I’ll always find you. Go, now.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but my feet started moving on their own. I raced up the stairs of the basement and pushed past the door. The house was just as I remembered, dark with walls that were too tall, black cloths hung over the complaining portraits. I was disoriented in the dark, but my feet carried me through the house until I found the overtly large entrance. I pushed open the doors and ran out into the cold, snowy night.

Frost nipped at each of my limps, and my lungs found it harder to breathe the frigid air. I ran anyway, out towards the woods surrounding the manor. I cast a glance over my shoulder, finding Mattheo staring back at me through the blacked-out eyes of his mask. I ducked into the tree line, just as he started his casual stroll towards me. Cocky bastard.

I run for as long as I can before my lungs give out. I leaned against a tree, walking slowly into a clearing. I take a deep breath, pulling my arms behind my head to breathe deeper. Just as I find a moment of peace, a branch snaps behind me. I whip my head around, my heart racing as Mattheo approaches me. He doesn’t run, only walks towards me with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ditched that awful mask, and I can see the smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. I stumble backwards, falling into the fresh snow. He continues his pace, unbothered by my racing heart as I scramble away from him and finally back to my feet. I don’t get one leg in front of the other before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, slipping under the loose fabric of my shirt.

“I win,” He mumbles in my ear, voice dark and raspy. It sends a chill down my spine that pools in my underwear.

Mattheo throws me over his shoulder, ignoring my flailing lips as he walks back to the manor. “Didn’t even get a mile, love. Lost your talent it seems, or maybe you knew you’d miss me too much.” he teased, running his warm hands up my thigh, pressing a kiss to my exposed skin.

It isn’t long before we’re back at the manor, and I thank every god I'm in good ties with when he walks past the basement. He takes me to his room instead, our room, the room where I've fallen apart under his touch more times than I can count.

I breathe in his familiar scent as he deposits me on the bed, and I roll over to bury my burning face in the pillows. Mattheo chuckles at me and grabs my hips, pulling me back against him as he grinds his hardening bulge against the plushness of my ass.

“You’ve been extra obedient, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with a tone I could quite place. Lust? Possession? Love? It all blurred together as he rutted his hips against me. “Good girls deserve a reward, don’t they?” he asked, before hooking his fingers at the hem of my shorts. He pulled them down to expose my glistening cunt. He spread me out along his fingers, admiring the way my pussy pulsed around nothing. He leaned in, pressing a possessive kiss to my clit, holding my hips as I try to buck away from him.

His warm fingers trace along my thighs, sleeping between my legs and collecting the arousal that pooled there. I release a shaky breath into the pillow as his finger circles my clit, and I arch my back to present myself further. He hums in appreciation, trailing his finger further up to my dripping hole, slowly pushing his middle finger inside of me. I gasp at the intrusion, not being able to remember the last time something so long had been inside of me. I keen under his touch, gripping the sheets for stability as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of me. A moan escapes me as he curls his finger, and his thumb brushes against my needy pearl again. Mattheo adds a second finger, spreading out my tight, gummy walls. I crumble under his touch, mouth falling open and eyes going half lidded as he pulls his fingers from me.

I hear him dropping his pants, and the bed dips behind me yet again as he leans his body completely over mine. His arm wraps around my neck, pressing me close to his chest while his breath fans across my face. The tip of his cock presses against me, and I whine at the sensation, pushing my hips back against him.

“Needy girl, thought you didn’t need me anymore.” He teased, pushing just the bulbous tip into my hole. It’s enough to make the knot in my stomach tighten, and I shake my head. “Need you, Matty, Need you so bad.” I admit, face flushed with embarrassment as he smirks. “Gonna run away again?”

He doesn’t let me get an answer out before he’s pressing further inside of me, the stretch burning pleasantly while my eyes roll back. His arm around my throat tightens, “I asked you a question, darling.” He teased, licking away the stray tear that fell from my eyes. I gasp as his cock brushes against a gummy bundle of nerves, and my head drops to the pillows. He tugs me back against him, pushing even further until he balls slapped against me. “No! No, never gonna leave again,” I promised, involuntary whines spilling from my throat.

Mattheo pulls his hips back before drilling them back into me, “Good girl,” He grins as he sets a punishing pace, watching my face contort into pleasure underneath him. “Who owns you?” he asks, and I push back against his hips desperately. “You! You do, God, you do!” I moan, feeling my head go light from the lack of airflow.

“God isn’t here, Love, It’s just me now.”

He drills into my pulsating hole, my back arching at his every thrust as my brain goes mushy from the pleasure. The arm around my throat pulls away, slipping down my stomach to find my pearl. His fingers are just as fast as his pace, and I can’t fight back the whorish moans in my throat. His lips attach to my shoulder, biting a possessive mark into my skin as he fucks me good, better than he ever had before.

Tears fall from my eyes, and my hand grips his desperately as I’m worked to my edge. “Matty, Matty please…” I trail off into a string of moans, and Mattheo adjusts himself behind me. He bucks his hips into me once more, and I fall apart all over him. My pussy flutters around his cock, and he rides out my orgasm with a few last thrusts of his hips, before he spills his hot seed deep into my womb. Mattheo collapses on top of me, still deep inside as he pins my body to the bed. He hums into my neck, burying himself in my skin.

“That’s my good girl. Let’s go take a shower.”

#rot says so #dark!mattheo riddle #dark!mattheo riddle x reader #dark!Mattheo riddle x reader smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #mattheo riddle x reader smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x reader fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle

308 notes · View notes

maiiuelle · 5 months

Text

˚❀˚

when you and jj first get together, he really makes an effort to impress you. the boy doesn’t have much to give, having grown up with the shirt on his back and not much else, but he’s eager to make you feel special. he’s no stranger to women, being a pretty hot commodity for pogue girls and tourists but he never sticks around long enough for anything to be considered serious. he’s a free spirit at heart, and before he took interest in you, that boy couldn’t be tied down. your first date was one to remember, the only warning beforehand being a cryptic text saying: “meet me at the dock at 6?”

you’re ecstatic, even though he didn’t explicitly say it’s a date, you’re hoping it will be. you’re something of a hopeless romantic, and your growing crush on maybank was driving you crazy. you put on a pretty sundress, curl your hair into messy coils and pack one of your crocheted shoulder bag with your wallet and emergency lip gloss.

you get there right on time, the sun just starting to set over the marsh. you shuffle nervously to the end of the dock, where you find jj leaning over the wooden railing.

“jayj?” your voice is soft, trying not to startle him. he turns his head and his body follows, but before he can greet you he’s taken in by your dress, his blue eyes transfixed on it’s short frilly skirt. he’s in his usual garb, a white tee and cargo shorts, which you still find very charming. you blink up at him shyly, not knowing why you’re so nervous, after all it’s just jj.

“uh—hey!” he lifts his baseball cap, running his hand through his hair as he tries to keep his eyes on yours. “whatcha all dressed up for?”

“oh, i dunno. was just excited to get out of the house, i guess.” your cheeks heat up, suddenly concerned that you misread the situation entirely.

he nods. “i’m glad you did. y’look very nice.” he lets his eyes linger on your dress a second longer before he clears his throat and reaches for your hand. “would you.. be interested in an exclusive boat tour of this here marsh on the hms pogue?”

you slip your hand into his, tilting your head curiously. “ooo — i’d be honored.” he starts to lead you down the wooden ramp to where the boat is floating against the dock, and once it comes into view your sweet smile turns into surprise.

he spread out a picnic blanket over the front of the boat, and a big bowl of fruit, two subs from haywards, and an empty beer can stuffed with wildflowers sits in the center. you just feel warm, relieved that clearly your feelings are mutual, and this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you. “oh — jj!” you jump into his arms, hugging him tight. “this is beautiful, you planned all of this?”

as you pull away to admire the boat again, his touch lingers on your waist, still holding you close. “‘course i did, cupcake. you like it?”

you huddle close to his side again, looking up at him with anticipation. “do i like it? i love it! this is amazing.”

“well, i’m glad.” jj smiles down at you before clearing his throat, getting flustered already. “c’mere, we should get out there while the sun’s still setting.” he takes hold of your hand, adjusting his hat again in an attempt to hide his rosy face. he helps you onto the boat, where you sit atop the blanket to admire the flowers he picked while he drives you out into the marsh.

the two of you fill the hot summer air with giggles over the roaring motor, but eventually the boat sputters to a stop at a nice clearing. the yellow and orange clouds paint over the still water beautifully, and singsonging birds chirp in the distance. the scene before you looks like something out of your favorite romance movies. jj makes his way to the bow, making sure the anchor is set.

“dig in, you don’t gotta wait on me.” he laughs and finally settles down next to you, popping a strawberry into his mouth casually. he gestures to the sandwiches, eyebrows creased in slight concern. “said you like italian, right?”

“oh yeah — who doesn’t?” you smile, helping yourself to some of the fruit too. “this is all so sweet, jayj. really.”

he waves a hand in the air, brushing it off. “well shucks, you’re sweet, cupcake.” he can’t keep his eyes off of you, between how your skin is glowing in the low sunlight, your dress, hair, lips — he can barely handle it. “y’deserve it, a girl like you’s once in a lifetime.”

you blink at him, his compliments going right to your burning cheeks. “you really think that?”

“you kidding? of course i do.” he rubs his jaw, shrugging like it’s obvious as he leans forward. “m’just lucky enough to be here with you.”

“jayj.” you lean on your arm, tilting your head as you stare back at him. you lick your glossy lips, and he feels like you can read his mind. your mind is spinning, heart racing as he moves closer, reaching gently to tuck your hair behind your ear. you lean into his palm, letting him guide you into a soft first kiss.

˚❀˚

#my inbox is open! ‧₊˚.#jj maybank #obx #jj maybank x reader #jj #jj x reader #jj maybank headcanon #jj headcanon #jj maybank drabble #jj drabble

312 notes · View notes

yuoimia · 10 months

Text

DAY 3: IT’S JUST THE TWO OF US ❅⋆⍋

summary: a cozy vacation spent in another nation

characters: neuvillette, xiao, baizhu, wanderer, ayato, kaeya, childe, lyney, albedo, zhongli, wriothesley, venti, diluc, alhaitham, kazuha.

notes: locations handpicked by me!! these are general days in another nation, you’re not really doing anything too exhilarating, total wc: 1.8k.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ dreamy december event masterlist

mondstadt, starfell lake - neuvillette, xiao, baizhu

Breezy and wide plains on the tops of jagged mountains, carrying a sweet breeze of berries and dandelions. Mondstadt, the nation of freedom, stole the hearts of numerous travelers, with its homely and cozy atmosphere, frolicking the winds all around Teyvat and coaxing the interest of many.

It was Mondstadt’s virtue that first drew him in. Freedom, peace, and comfort, the only things he has ever hoped, wished, yearned with every fibre of his being. Mondstadt sounded like a long-awaited exhalation of air, to finally breathe in a new breath of fresh opportunities and beginnings.

The earliest beams of sunshine crept through the sheer curtains.

If it were any other day, you’d let out a vexed groan before rolling to the other side. But today, today was another day in Mondstadt, and you’d be stupid to let any of the time go to waste.

Shoving the curtains aside, you observe in awe as Starfell Lakes glimmers like a pool of sapphire diamonds or like a flutter of fairies, their pixiedust sprinkling a bit of happiness into your day.

“It really is so beautiful here.”

The abrupt voice startles you for a split second. “Don’t creep up on me like that,” faux disappointment lacing your voice. He mutters a quiet apology before letting out a faint smile, interchangeably switching his gaze from you to the lake.

“Should we go outside?”

You nod in agreement, the excitement rejuvenating you even further. “If it’s this spectacular from afar, can you imagine how majestic it must be up close?”

“Very majestic,” he repeats, leading you both out the door.

liyue, jueyun karst - wanderer, ayato, kaeya

Dizzying peaks and swirling mists convey an atmosphere of grandeur and mystique, alluring visitors and their fascination towards the beauty of Jueyun Karst, rumoured to be the abode of the adepti, typically unreachable by mortals. Yet, there was always an abundance of people willing to test their luck and willpower, returning to tell dramatic tales of exaggerated perils and glory. Even so, there were still facts that none could deny about the quiet abode, namely, the distinctive tranquility fusing within its clouds.

It’s truly hard to believe that you weren’t a figure in a watercolor painting. Soft brushes of orange, yellow, and green leaves dance in the chilly breeze. The sound of approaching footsteps quickly snaps you out of your afternoon reverie as you turn your head towards a familiar face.

He greets you with an unsually innocent, lighthearted wave, accompanied with an intriguing wrapped basket. It doesn’t take much to piece together the pieces and present an overall message, not that he tried very hard to conceal it. Perhaps this vacation has muddled up parts of his cognitive functions.

“How are you feeling?” he inquires, the question evoking some sort of suspicion within you. “Hungry? Bored?” he continues, appearing oblivious to your raised eyebrows.

“…both?” you reply, a little confused and hesitant. “I won’t say no to some lunch.”

“Perfect, I found just the place.”

inazuma, chinju forest & grand narukami shrine - childe, lyney, albedo

Luminous flowers hidden deep in the forests, fragrant cherry blossoms lining the streets of Inazuma—the diverse variation of natural features that Inazuma beholds captivates the interest of those seeking something different, a thirst for something that simply cannot be found anywhere else.

Chinju forest, a secluded area of glowing streams and blooms, far enough from the attention of the city, and close enough to the allure of the grand shrines, a more than ideal option.

In the space of Chinju Forest, day was like night, and night was like day. There was really no hourglass here, where time ambled, the grains of sand dripping one at a time. It unlocked a rare sense of bliss, where no-one was obliged to be anything or do anything.

Despite the strong desire to explore the all-imposing Grand Narukami Shrine, the sheer amount of the flight of stairs that you needed to overcome was already giving you second thoughts.

“…Please don’t tell me…there’s more,” he groans, almost succumbing to his knees and screaming up at the sky. “How many stairs do you think we’ve walked up so far? I’ll say at least two hundred, maybe even two fifty.”

No words leave your mouth; there’s none in your head either; all you feel is a growing agonising pain in your calves and thighs. Short, tired pants take turns exiting your body, and you glance up at the new set of stairs—hopefully the last.

“Yeah, me too,” he replies, nodding understandingly as he recovers and hands you a bottle of chilled water. “Take your time, this is going to be a long one.”

After about ten minutes, you both set off again. To your utter confusion, he seems so energised, sprouting encouraging comments in the midst of silence. You’re thankful for the cheers of reassurance, but all that’s needed is a good night's rest under those glowing flowers and twinkling fireflies.

You don’t even realise for a good minute that you’ve reached the top. The sweat pooling along your clothes is an indicator of your mood—exhausted and sore all over.

Your name rings over the few other people gathered at the shrine as he eagerly hands you a fortune slip.

“Read it out loud; apparently it’s quite accurate.”

Modest Fortune: Clouds cover half the moon and the fog is thick.

Above you is the mood shrouded by cloud. Ahead of you, everything is engulfed by fog.

Though the way ahead seems unclear at the moment, all will become clear when the time comes.

Take this opportunity to improve yourself while waiting for the clouds to clear.

You’re not sure how to feel.

sumeru, port ormos - zhongli, wriothesley, venti

Port Ormos holds everything.

Marketing secrets, priceless treasures, and an aromatic scent of homemade dishes crafted with exotic spices and herbs, carrying through the refreshing winds of nearby seawater. It’s enticing—everything from the cultural architecture to the species of trees. Despite its prominence throughout Teyvat, it’s not as overcrowded as you originally thought it to be. Of course, it’s still busy, but everyone mostly keeps to themselves as they go on with their usual lives. At every new turn, you find yourself enamoured by the great variety of stores, keen to explore every inch of them, no matter how unrealistic that goal may appear.

Someone who’s probably more excited about being in the Port Ormos was probably the person trailing by your side. Out of the blue, he’d point and mutter an interesting fact, or occasionally go up to the store owner with a handful of questions, as you stood awkwardly behind him. It’s quite fine by you, though; the several friendships he’s established with owners have brought in handy discounts and bonuses.

“We should try out that new waterside restaurant,” he says one evening as you walk hand-in-hand by the docks, admiring the warm tones of a summer sunset blending together over the borders of clouds. “One of the vendors told me they have a special on Sundays.”

“Ah, a special,” you hum, amused. “Is that what caught your eye?”

“Special things always catch my eye,” he replies, a mischievous smile spreading on his face. “Would you like an example before we enter?”

You arrive at the entrance of the restaurant, and like mentioned, it boasts a stunning view of the clear and pristine waters, lapping at the edge.

There are floral garlands with small lights slithering across the corners of the ceilings, lit with blazing lamps, soft crackles of the flame add to the intimate atmosphere.

“If you insist, then sure,” you answer to his previous question. Your attention is more focused on searching the restaurant for a waiter to call.

“I think they might be standing right beside me.”

fontaine, elynas - diluc, alhaitham, kazuha

The cosmos present themselves in the elegant fashion of being subtle yet imperial, with millions of sparkling stars sprinkling all across Fontaine’s heavens, effortlessly illuminating the world underneath.

The pale streaks of moonlight gleam down onto the cascading waters and the array of flowers and shrubs, casting a magical afterglow that creates a bewitching sense of enchantment, like you were an illustration in an ancient storybook lost as the ages gone by.

Have you ever tried to paint at night? To become a midnight muse?

Cutting through the stillness were the delicate strokes of brushes on a canvas. It’s a smooth and soft sound, as the colours glide and complement each other.

You’re sitting opposite each other, one the muse of another.

With an air of finality, he looks up at you with a satisfied expression on his face as he begins to pack away the paintbrushes and palettes. Whether he’s content with his product is unknown. Nothing about his face or mannerisms convey an emotion, unless if you count the usual peaceful visage.

“Are you close to finishing?” he asks politely as he packs away the last of his equipment. “It’s alright if you haven't; those mountains aren’t exactly easy to get in the right shape.”

He’s right; the intricacies of Fontaine’s environment are undeniably striking and tedious to replicate, from the very details of the petals to the shade of grass.

You add the last few finishing touches before giving it one last, fleeting look.

“I’m finished.”

As you mutter those two words, something stirs in the air. The world suddenly feels so vastly beautiful, and this particular point in time feels so perfectly sacred that it couldn’t have been a mere coincidence, and you know it’s not.

You know that this very moment, this very vacation, this very night—you know that he must’ve planned this all along.

It was so sweet.

“Show me yours,” you suggest, crossing one leg over the other. Everything feels a thousand times more divine; everything feels so much more meaningful that it's imbedded into your head, in your guts; there's a doubt on whether it will ever leave.

“What’s got you so happy all of a sudden?” he asks lightheartedly. “Don’t raise your expectations too high; I can’t be an exception for everything.”

You’re just smiling, beaming up at the glittering stars, forever grateful for all the light they’ve bestowed upon you, because it’s been a while since you’ve last told them thank you.

Their splendour radiates down to your face; iridescent shimmers twinkle in the tears unknowingly sliding down your face.

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #neuvillette x reader #xiao x reader #baizhu x reader #wanderer x reader #ayato x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #lyney x reader #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #wriothesley x reader #venti x reader #diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader #kazuha x reader #anya writes ✧.*

511 notes · View notes

pinksmonkey · 2 months

Text

Posting my Ultimate Byler Evidence/Analysis List here directly because it probably makes it more convenient and I should have done this a while ago. XD

There is so much proof for Byler being endgame in S5 of Stranger Things. They are so cute together, and so much in the show has been building up to their relationship. I just wanted to share some of my favourite Byler analyses, because they are so cool, detailed, and in-depth. I love reading about all the hints, symbolism, and subtext for Byler, it's amazing how much thought must have been put into all these things. Why go through all the effort of adding these details if they aren't actually going anywhere with them? Mike is so queercoded, and they are truly in love with each other.

🫥 Just gonna leave some good Byler analyses here 🤐

Most of the links go to written Tumblr posts, and a couple of them are Reddit posts. So it's a lot of reading. If you prefer watching videos over reading, I highlighted my Byler YouTube playlist in green so it's easy to find.

And apologies for any of the links that aren't working, I know some of the posts have been deleted now sadly, but there's no way I'm re-numbering all these so I'm just leaving them in. My fellow Bylers, please stop deleting your amazing posts. ;-;

So anyway, here is the list of some of my favourite Byler evidence/analyses of all time (not in any particular order):

1. Mike's Season 4 Monologue To El

2. Camera Roll Byler Proof Part 3

3. Mike's Monologue and Milkvan

4. Mostly Byler Post Index

5. Dawson's Creek Parallel

6. "My Experience With Stranger Things"

7. What Ollie Learned From Film School

8. Byler Music Analysis

9. Why Don't The Duffers Discuss This?

10. ST Theories Masterpost

11. If Byler Isn't Endgame Then Someone Screwed Up

12. Byler Crumbs From The Cast and Crew

13. Favourite Combination of Endgame Byler Proof

14. I Doubt Byler Then I Remember This

15. The Fact That We Have This Interview

16. You Know Your Ship is Endgame When

17. Mostly Byler Post Index 2

18. Losing Hope Of Byler Endgame?

19. Why I Think Byler is Endgame

20. So Many Thoughts on This

21. Mike's Wall Art

22. Painting Miscommunication Leading to Mike's Monologue Coded

23. Yes, That Scene Did Foreshadow Mike's Monologue as Disingenuous

24. Mike's Monologue Didn't Sit Right With Me

25. Blue And Yellow Pen

26. That Tweet Is So Sweet

27. Heart Eyes, Literally

28. "My Process of Realizing Byler is Real"

29. Looking at Will, Not El

30. High School Musical Parallel

31. Said It Before and I'll Say It Again

32. Delusional Milkdud?

33. ST Writers Twitter Analysis 1

34. ST Writers Twitter Analysis 2

35. For When You Are Doubting Byler

36. Is Mike Bi or Gay?

37. Fully Convinced

38. The Ultimate Byler Playlist (my Byler YouTube playlist)

39. 100% Confident

40. Mike in S4 and S2

41. Mike Is Angry With Himself

42. It's Been A Year, Mike

43. Rink-O-Mania Remodel

44. The Development Of Will And Mike's Relationship

45. Mike's Lies

46. El Was Holding So Much In

47. Flickergate + Lettergate

48. Did Mike Ever Like El Romantically?

49. Mike Is Stupid

50. Byler Won't Write Itself

51. What's The Alternative Explanation?

52. Comparing Mileven and Byler

53. It Was Always About Them

54. Mike Is Not Ok

55. He Has A Love Interest

56. Will's Happy Ending

57. Trying To Be Normal

58. It's Not That Milevens Are Homophobic

59. Byler Is Reality

60. A Proper Look At El's Shrine To Mike

61. Mileven Through The Seasons

62. Suspicious

63. I Can't Doubt Byler

64. D&D Soulmates

65. Let's Talk Phones

66. Not Delusional

67. What Do They Want?

68. The Main Character

69. Mike's Mental Health

70. So Close

71. This Look Confirms Byler Isn't One Sided

72. Mileven Is Bones

73. They Don't Care About Mileven?

74. The Airport Hug Will Always Be Famous

75. The Monologue Mystery, Why Did They Lose?

76. The Cabin Scene

77. Why Couldn't Mike Say It For 2 Seasons?

78. He Was Trying To Find Will

79. Mike The Surfer Boy

80. Mike Definitely Shows Attraction To Girls

81. The Cast Knows

82. Mileven Loses On All Fronts

83. The Bouquet

84. 53 Minutes And 5 Seconds

85. Pink Panther

86. El And Choice

87. Will's Spotify Playlist

88. He'll Come Crawling Back To You, Begging For Forgiveness

89. Mike's Character Arc Prediction

90. It's The Same Look

91. Will's Truly Happy Ending

92. That's The Same Look, Right?

93. You're The Heart

94. Mike And El's Relationship In S4 Was Really Weird

95. Fireworks Parallel

96. Mileven Has Been Built Up For 4 Seasons

97. Not Stupid: The Fate of Mileven and Byler

98. This Suddenly Makes So Much Sense

99. Metaphors In Filmmaking

And unfortunately Tumblr will only let me add 100 links per post, so when I've posted part 2 of this list, I'll link it here: Part 2

122 notes · View notes

hvlcy0n · 2 months

Text

BETTER THAN ME . choji tomiyama x fem! reader

+ choji doesn’t understand what’s so great about your stupid boyfriend, but then it turns out that he’s even worse than choji imagined.

+ 5k words

+ SFW (account is 18+). UNEDITED. toxic relationship. infidelity. pining. reader’s feelings are ambiguous b/c of choji’s pov.

+ the dimensions of choji’s character are so interesting. like yeah umemiya might've rewired his brain but there's no way that early season one choji just VANISHED entirely. like he might be boyish and happy-go-lucky but he's still gotta be a little fucked up and selfish somewhere. i hope i at least landed somewhere on the target with this one, even if it's the veryyyyy edge.

choji despises your boyfriend.

everything was so much simpler—so much better—when you occupied a permanent spot at his side, your presence a comforting constant in the mayhem of his daily life. although you never donned shishitoren’s trademark yellow jacket, you were its backbone behind the scenes, a pillar of support that grounded choji and kept him tethered to reality so that he could continue serving as a proper leader. he trusted you implicitly, whether it was to catch him when he impetuously launched himself into your arms or to offer an unbiased opinion on his dilemmas.

it was no wonder that he eventually caught feelings for you. he wasn’t sure when the shift happened—when the sight of the soft smile painting your lips and your skin bathed in sunlight first made his eyes widen and his heart thrum in his chest; when his first instinct at a whiff of danger became ensuring he was planted between you and whoever he perceived as a threat; or when he first found his gaze lingering on your petal–soft lips as you chattered on about nothing in particular. but, it happened.

he initially intended to test his luck as soon as possible, but togame was quick to reel him in, lazily advising him to back off and let his feelings settle so that he wouldn’t cause unnecessary friction. he knew how choji could get when a pretty girl piqued his interest and how it would be a brief whirlwind of ecstasy, coquettish touches, and shiny novelty before it would inevitably fizzle out. relationships weren’t really choji’s thing—he itched for excitement and adrenaline, and his attention span was limited. even you knew that. while he could be a good friend and strong leader, being a proper lover was something else entirely.

but, unlike the other girls that choji would go for, you were already so cemented into choji’s life that togame was concerned that pursuing his little cat–and–mouse games and temporary infatuation would upend your bond entirely and knock choji off balance if things went south. you, on the other hand, were a sharp contrast to choji. you were never one to entertain fleeting attention or allow yourself to get attached to someone with the knowledge that it won’t last. even if choji’s confession didn’t make things awkward, togame reasoned that you’ve witnessed so many of choji’s flings come and go that you likely wouldn’t even take his feelings into consideration.

that was the downside to your close friendship, after all—you’ve personally shaken hands with every skeleton in choji’s closet, and that was something that could not be undone.

begrudgingly, choji obeyed. but, much to togame’s surprise, choji’s feelings did not waver when left unattended to. nothing about his emotions were transient, as his best friend had suspected. if anything, his taste for you intensified, pluming into an electric, white–hot craving that drew him into your orbit like a papery moth to flame. the thought of calling you his not only sparked a sense of exhilaration, but it also plucked at the strings of his heart and caused a ticklish warmth to seep through his entire body.

this was different. choji didn’t just want to have you—he wanted to keep you. and before he knew it, fantasies began to permeate his thoughts. he relished the idea of showing up at your house unannounced for a sleepover and making chocolate chip cookies with you at midnight, of tagging along with you for your errands and dragging you with him for his, of being able to kiss and cuddle you simply because he wanted to, of feeling the weight of your gaze on him and only him.

it didn’t matter if you wished to swallow him whole—to engulf him in his entirety and dissolve him into ash. in fact, the thought alone was enough to make him shiver with anticipation.

he had to have you.

choji was never one to shy away from achieving his goals, so he became bolder with his touches, finding new reasons to casually have his hands somewhere on your body. the stray pinky that “accidentally” landed beneath the hem of your shirt when he grabbed you to startle you; the hands that rested on your stomach and waist just long to toe the line of platonic affection when he lunged to wrap you in one of his usual bear hugs; the way he would press up against you in bustling public areas because of course, there’s no space—he slowly pushed your boundaries, nudging you closer and closer to the edge. testing the waters. searching for any sign of rejection.

he delighted in the way you received his affections in stride. it was a positive sign, he thought—the way your eyebrows would raise in incredulity and your eyes would darken in disdain whenever a man would try to worm his way into casually touching you was never lost on choji. yet, there you were, giggling and chiding him lightly when he would nearly bowl you over or skip rings around you in his excitement to see you.

you never pushed him away. a tingle would shoot down his spine whenever you’d give his hair a congratulatory ruffle or hurriedly snatch him up by the back of his jacket and pull him closer to you to keep him from wandering into someone’s path. he wanted—no, needed—more of it.

as far as he was concerned, you liked him.

so, what the fuck happened?

choji’s progress came to a screeching halt one overcast afternoon when you popped up at a group hangout with some random guy he’s never seen before in tow. at first, choji believed he was a fan of shishitoren who you just happened to stumble upon with how eager he’d been to shake hands with choji. he was amicable and outgoing, introducing himself as “kenji” before proceeding to compliment choji’s sneakers and jacket.

at first, choji was welcoming toward the attention and spoke with him genially. but the light in his eyes flickered when he watched you sidle up to kenji and lock your arm around his own with a content smile. why were you so chummy with him? in choji’s eyes, he was plain and forgettable, without a single striking feature that would set him apart from the crowd. he was such a stark contrast to you that the possibility of you two dating was so far beyond reality that choji assumed you just had a wacky family tree.

so, when you planted a kiss on his cheek and introduced kenji as your new boyfriend, choji’s entire body froze, and all he could manage was a monotonous “huh?” after a few seconds of silence.

your boyfriend?

the shift in choji’s demeanor was palpable, the glow in his eyes dimming entirely as a shadow of bitterness and thinly veiled distaste settled over his amber irises. the group, noting the sudden souring of the atmosphere, observed choji with a restless unease as he stood there in silence. you were too distracted to notice, cheerful voice cleaving through the thick, heavy silence as you launched into a condensed version of how the two of you had met. but, choji didn’t hear a word you said. he was preoccupied with staring at the man you’d dragged up to him, gaze calculating and curious as it swept over him from head to toe.

he didn’t understand.

why did you choose someone like him?

you were self–sufficient and valued a sense of ambition in the people you chose to associate yourself with. however, whereas choji at least had goals, kenji was revealed to not only be unemployed but to also not have even an inkling of an achievement he wished to attain. normally, choji would’ve understood someone’s decision to simply “vibe.” it wasn’t even that long ago when all he wanted to do was laugh and have fun, but it was different coming from him.

what’s worse, as choji’s gaze drifted over his physique, he became positive that if push came to shove, he would be too weak to even hope to protect you. what good would he be as a boyfriend if he wasn’t even strong enough to ensure your safety? would he even be willing to take a beating for you if he knew he was outmatched? probably not. you’d need someone to walk you home at night and watch your back, especially in this area. choji could do it. of course, he could.

but, there was still something unsettling about him that choji could certainly sense but couldn’t place. at the time, togame had thought he was only reacting that way because he’d beaten him to the punch, but choji was positive that something was off. and he did not like it.

what did you see in him?

the next couple months of choji’s life were dreadful. it was as if you’d been stripped from his life, your sudden absence leaving a gaping hole that he couldn’t manage to fill. you started spending all of your time with kenji, abandoning choji in your wake and leaving him to flop pitifully around on his couch and search for some way to temporarily alleviate the sting. you were hardly around anymore, and whenever he did see you, you were hanging off this guy’s arm like some decorative arm candy and smiling like he was the greatest thing since fucking sliced bread. it was infuriating.

if only he hadn’t listened to togame. if only he’d approached you first. if only he’d taken the leap. if only, if only, if only—all of these fucking missed opportunities. what was he doing? choji was always a risk–taker, someone who would shamelessly pursue their goals and plunge headfirst into the fray. why was he just sitting here?

there had to be something wrong with kenji—something choji could use to his advantage to convince you to dump him.

and by the grace of whatever higher being watching over him, choji’s prayers were answered.

free of the rose–tinted lenses that obscured your gaze, choji was able to take note of certain behaviors that slowly began to appear once you two hit the three–month mark. the superficial, forced undertone to kenji’s smile as he listened to you talk, the way you’d often complain about him reading your texts but taking hours to respond, how nonchalant he became about asking to borrow money from you—all of it made choji’s chest swell with an odd combination of relief and anger.

he could be perceptive when it counted, and it was as if his eyes were finally able to pierce straight through kenji’s facade and perceive him for who he truly was beneath the meticulously curated persona he’d stitched together for himself.

and choji was right.

he didn’t deserve you.

choji could see it in the faint, dark crescents sunken into the skin below your eyes and the sorrowful distance in your gaze whenever you would occasionally zone out. that bastard was whittling you down, slowly yet steadily siphoning your energy straight from your body. all of the “borrowed” money that was never returned; the new fluctuations in kenji’s mood that would spike from mellow to angry whenever he didn’t get his way, only for him to later placate you with affection and gifts and beguile you into apologizing for upsetting him; the gradual increase in his influence over what clothes you wore—you were being reduced to an empty shell of yourself.

it was even worse when choji finally snapped and began to openly complain about your boyfriend, vehemently pointing out why you should leave him, and you resisted. frustrated tears glimmered in your eyes as you insisted that you were “just going through a rough patch,” and that things would get better soon. after all, when you’d been cast out and reeled in so many times it made your head spin, all you could do was wait to be invited back into his arms, just like always.

after all, it wasn’t as if he’d cheated on you, you’d argued. that would be unforgivable. according to you, he was still a good boyfriend, just emotional and insecure, which were issues that could be remedied through effort. disloyalty had always been a dealbreaker for you in both friendships and relationships, and it was only choji’s luck that it was the one thing that piece of shit hadn’t failed at.

it wasn’t fucking fair.

choji was certain this would never be an issue if you’d chosen him. why can’t you see that even now?

you’d begged choji to give him a chance and hang out with him just once, and he’d see that kenji wasn’t so horrible after all. after all, kenji seemed to really like choji. at first, choji was adamant that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, but all of his whining and griping and foot stomping were no match for the teary, pleading look in your eyes. he finally agreed, but only on the condition that you would go with him to get ice cream afterward—without kenji.

that was enough to satisfy you, so you arranged for the two of them to meet, both of them settling on a little diner in the seedy area of town. it just so happened that togame had business along the same street, so choji excitedly proposed that they walk together and then split off to their respective buildings. however, when togame agreed, he didn’t realize that he would be subjected to another one of choji’s rants about how much better he is than kenji for the duration of their journey.

“this is so unfair!” choji complains, crushing a weed peeking from a crack in the sidewalk beneath the sole of his sneaker. he turns on his heel to face togame, who’s quietly strolling along three paces behind choji with his hands tucked inside his jacket pockets. “don’t you think so, kame–chan?” he walks backward, doing his best to keep up with his friend’s ambling pace. “why should i have to go? i already know i don't like him, and i’m not gonna change my mind.” spinning to face forward once more, he uses his momentum to kick an empty aluminum can laying in his path, sending it careening down the pavement. "'s stupid."

“you’re going because you can’t tell her no.” togame remarks teasingly.

“nuh-uh! since when?” choji scrunches his nose. “i’m only going so i can check this guy out for myself."

“no, you’re not.” he shakes his head. “if you were, you wouldn’t have dragged your feet for twenty minutes and complained the entire time.”

“‘cause he’s weird!” choji insists. “i don’t really know exactly what it is, but there’s something off about him. i don’t like the way he looks at her. it makes me feel all gross.”

“he’s her boyfriend.”

“well, he shouldn’t be!” choji shoves his hands into the pockets of his shishitoren jacket. “ever since he’s been around, she’s looked like death.” his eyes narrow slightly, the boyish tone to his voice quieting into something sobering, something serious. “she’s different, kame–chan, and i don’t know what to do. she won’t listen to me no matter what i say.” he grumbles the last sentence.

“i know what you mean,” togame hums. “unfortunately, she’s in pretty deep. i’m not sure there’s much you can do.”

“what's so cool about him, anyway? choji huffs. “i’m way stronger than him, especially after ume–chan taught me how to make my fists heavier. i can keep her safe from all the weird, creepy guys. and she thinks i’m funny.”

“initiative, probably.” he muses.

“hey!” choji barks out, pointing an accusatory finger in togame’s face. “you were the one who told me i should wait! i was gonna make a move.”

for a moment, togame is silent as he reflects on their previous conversation. “oh,” he murmurs, eyebrows raising in realization, “i guess i did. sorry, man.”

choji sighs theatrically and stretches both arms above his head. “nah, it’s cool.” he folds his hands behind his head. “it just pisses me off.” he mumbles. “i wish there was a way i could just break them up. she’d be way better off without him leeching off her.”

“choji,” a low warning rumbles in togame’s chest.

“huh? c’mon, you know i’m right!”

“i agree,” togame sighs, “but you can’t just run around interfering with people’s relationships.”

“well, yeah, duh. but this is different.” choji argues. when togame doesn’t look convinced, he presses on. “he never texts her back, he’s always borrowing money, and i don’t like the way he talks to her.” he ticks off the list on his fingers before shoving all three fingers in togame’s peripheral. “that’s three strikes, kame–chan. three."

togame nudges his hand aside. “i didn’t realize you were suddenly the king of relationships.” he snorts, and choji frowns, catching his dig at his past romances. “so, you got a plan?”

ah, a plan. he didn’t get that far.

choji practically deflates. “i mean, not really . . .” but then, he comes back to life the next moment, eyes gleaming. “but i’ll think of one!”

togame chuckles and reaches over to ruffle his friend’s hair. “yeah, you might have to wait this one out.”

choji sighs heavily and returns his attention to his surroundings. he’s never been fond of this area, which was home to various pubs, run–down motels, and sordid love hotels; but kenji suggested the diner in the vicinity, and choji truly didn’t care where the two of them ended up. but, the more he considered it, the more curious he was about such a decision. is it some kind of a set–up? he sure hopes not; he’s wearing his brand new sneakers, and blood is too dark to blend in with the bright red fabric. at least he'll get there early enough to be able to scope the place out beforehand.

“ugh, i hate this place.” choji grumbles, scrunching his nose.

“me too,” togame admits. “‘s a shame that the only place they sell that limited edition ramune is smack in the middle of all this.” he gestures loosely to the towering buildings around them. “oh, yeah, turn left at the next corner. we’re still a couple blocks away.”

choji nods. “got it. but anyway, just buy a bunch of ‘em all at once,” he advises. “it’ll be easier that way, and you won’t have to come back as often! oh, oh! that reminds me! did you know that—”

“wait.” togame’s footsteps cease abruptly, and choji slows to a halt with him, puzzled.

“what’s up? something wrong?”

for a moment, togame stays silent, but choji takes note of the way his brows knit together and his eyes flicker to and fro as if attempting to comprehend the scene unfolding before him. “the hell is that?” he nods at something across the street, and choji curiously follows his line of sight.

no way.

no way, no way.

choji’s eyes widen in surprise when he spots kenji ducking out of some filthy alley a little way down the street, tailed by a dainty blonde who giggles and tugs at the hem of her denim miniskirt as if trying to smooth out the fabric. his heart pounds as he witnesses kenji hook a hand around her waist to draw her in and whisper something in her ear. there is nothing platonic about their embrace or the way the girl gazes up at him through her lashes, which means no chance of mistaking this as a friendship.

as choji stands there, not daring to breathe and the incessant throb of his heart echoing in his ears, a moment of clarity washes over him.

kenji is cheating on you.

a tangle of emotions engulfs choji’s mind. at first, there’s disbelief. in one fell swoop, it swallows him up like a torrent of icy water, shocking him down to the bone and causing a numbing sensation to bleed through his stiff body all the way to his extremities. all he can do is stand there motionlessly, processing. he can’t believe the irony of the situation—the opportunity that just tumbled its way into his lap. to be practically handed proof of the one thing that choji needs to have your boyfriend kicked out of your life—he almost can’t believe it.

once he realizes the truth of the situation, an effervescent, ticklish flood of joy sweeps away the stupefaction. he was right all along. a huff of incredulous laughter is kicked from his chest, a wide, cheshire smile spreading over his lips. he was right. he knew kenji was a shitty boyfriend. he knew he wasn’t the one for you. you had to break up with him now!

but, before long, his smug grin begins to wither as anger sets in. it’s a slow crescendo. lava wells in the pit of his stomach, bubbling and roiling and churning as it begins to rise higher and higher, scorching him from the inside out until heat thrums beneath his skin and any remaining glee is set ablaze. kenji is cheating on you. how could he? how dare he? suddenly, choji’s fingertips itch for a fight, hands balling into fists at his sides.

he doesn’t even register that his body has launched itself forward until togame’s hand is clamping down on his wrist with an iron grip, halting him in his tracks and bringing him back down to earth. “whoa! you can’t just go chargin’ in.” togame flinches at the fire in choji’s eyes when he snaps his head around to glare at him, but he still doesn’t release him.

“let go.” choji’s voice is monotonous, but the energy vibrating in his body is anything but.

“i’m doin’ you a favor here, man.” togame keeps his voice low to keep kenji from noticing them. “listen. if you go runnin’ up and knock his lights out, he’ll just go cryin’ back to her, and she’ll drop you for good. you need proof.”

proof.

there’s a beat of silence before choji snaps out of it, his indignation tempered by a sudden wash of lucidity as he realizes that togame is right. “ah . . . oh! good thinking. uh . . . a picture!” the idea flashes through his mind, and he hastily looks to his friend. “quick, take a picture!” he urges, having now returned to his usual exuberant self. “before they stop being all mushy!”

“uh . . . wait, okay.” blanching in the face of a time crunch, togame finally lets go of choji’s wrist in favor of anxiously fishing around in his pocket for his phone.

“hurry, hurry!”

“i got it,” togame yanks his phone free, only for choji to groan when togame begins fumbling with it, the perspiration on his palms causing the device to slip in his grasp. “the camera app . . . the camera . . .”

“gimme that!” choji snatches it out of togame’s hand and rushes to open the camera app. he feels as though he may burst a blood vessel when he centers kenji and the girl in the image and has to wait for the lens to focus properly. “come on, come on,” his tongue pokes out in concentration as his thumb hovers over the camera icon.

he isn’t sure how many pictures he took, having spammed the button so relentlessly that the entire screen shone white for a split second. but with their blatant disregard for the public eye, he’s positive that each one is incriminating enough that kenji can’t weasel his way out of any accusations cast his way. he feels a stab of satisfaction as he tucks togame’s phone into his jacket pocket, blissfully ignorant to togame’s awkwardly extended hand.

“let’s go say hi,” choji leans forward slightly, gaze alight with a twisted thrill that sends chills down togame’s spine. his hand shoots up in an energetic wave. “oh, kenj—”

togame’s calloused hand slaps over choji’s mouth, muffling his voice. “don’t do that!” he scolds, leaving choji to stare at him with rounded eyes. “what if—” he recoils sharply when he feels choji’s tongue drag across his palm, and he instantly snatches his hand away, face contorted in revulsion. “ew, that’s disgusting, dude. you can’t just lick people.”

“why can’t i?” choji fires back.

“‘cause it’s nasty—”

“not that.”

“oh,” togame wipes his friend’s saliva off on his pants, grimacing. “you mean talkin’ to him? ‘cause,” he expels a long breath, “if you let him know now that you caught him, he’ll have time to think of a lie before he sees her next. you gotta let her bring it up so she can see how guilty he is for herself.”

“mm,” choji hums. “you sure that’ll work?”

“i might’ve screwed up before,” togame nods to where kenji and the girl are saying their goodbyes, “but i’m positive ‘bout this one.” he turns to face choji, and choji blinks. “i’ll send you the pictures. you should go see her now since kenji’s gonna be busy waiting for you at the diner. she may have been forgiving,” his eyes drift lazily back to kenji just in time to watch him slink off into the alley once more, “but i don’t think she will be this time around.”

yeah. choji shifts his attention back to where kenji and the girl once stood. that’s right. you don't harbor even the slightest tolerance for infidelity. when you see the photos, you’ll dump him for sure, and choji will be there when it happens. watching. waiting. the first one to comfort you. the first one to pull you into his arms and soak up your tears. the first one to witness the tumultuous storm of wounded pride and heartbreak that will inevitably envelop your mind and rip you apart at the seams.

and when you finally—finally—shatter, choji will be there to collect the pieces.

that’s what “friends” are for, right?

#windbreaker x reader #windbreaker x you #choji tomiyama x reader #tomiyama choji x reader #choji x reader #choji tomiyama #wind breaker #windbreaker fluff

132 notes · View notes

littlexscarletxwitch · 5 months

Text

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗹

paring: amy march x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, cute, kinda spicy towards the end but it mostly fluff and cuteness and amy kinda worshiping r, period piece, wlw established relationship

warning(s): hint of smut/spicy, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.1k

note: A little Amy March appreciation post. I just... I guess the Bridgerton hype is getting to me and with that comes the Amy hype back again. Hope you all enjoy this one, it's kinda based off of titanic (if you couldn't tell). I love you, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

“What are you doing?” you whispered right into her ear, causing Amy to jump on the spot a little.

“Do not do that, Y/n,” she said, clutching her hand to her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I apologise,” you said, chuckling as you kissed her temple. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just trying to find something to paint.”

“What are your options so far?”

“Well, this bowl of fruits,” she pointed to her left. “Or that one,” she pointed to her right.

“Again?” you asked, scoffing and raising your brow at her.

“I guess I could paint that vessel with the yellow flowers, they are nice, aren’t they?” she said, lost in her thoughts.

“You know, the other day, Aunt March showed me some French painting…”

“Did she now?” she said, gathering her things to paint the flowers, only half listening to your words.

“Yes, they were quite… interesting,” you said, mischief filing your voice.

“How so?”

“Well… they were lovely women, beautiful really…”

“Yes?” Amy was paying attention to you, she was trying at least, but her brain chose to focus more on the flowers in front of her.

“And they were… um… naked.”

Amy stood still for a second at your words, but then continued on as if it was nothing. Because in reality it wasn’t, the French had a thing for the human body, so what? It annoyed her, just a little, that you saw other women naked. But as long as her body was the only one you would touch, then she could do peace with it.

“They were fascinating, breathtaking even. Imagine being immortalised that beautifully.”

“Mmmh,” Amy agreed.

“I would love for someone to do that for me…” you said, enough with the playing around and getting to the point.

And then you had Amy’s whole attention. “Are you saying that you would stand, naked, in front of a man, just so he could paint you? That you would gladly expose your body?” she said sternly.

“No! God, no,” you scoffed. “You would paint me.”

You smile as you watch her cheeks turning red. It was no surprise really, you had lost count of all the times you and Amy had seen the other naked, did things while at it. But despite Amy’s strong personality, deep down she was as shy as a baby deer.

She cleared her throat. “I think I have heard wrong, it was as if you wanted me to paint you—.”

“Like a French model,” you finished for her. “Yes, you heard correctly.”

“Naked?”

“Yes, that was the whole point of this conversation,” you chuckled, as you stepped closer to her and took away the paint brushes from her hands to warm them with your own. “I do not mean to make you uncomfortable, Ames,” you peck the back of her hands. “I just thought… I was not really thinking, actually. You said you were looking for something to paint, and the pictures Aunt March showed me just came to my mind. But if you do not wish to—.”

“It would be my absolute pleasure,” she interumped you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am,” you couldn’t hold back the smile forming on your lips.

“How do you want me then?”

“You remember the pictures, right? Just do as you please, but… um… naked,” she winked at you, turning around to find her paintings, a new canvas and her favourite paint brushes.

You took the opportunity, as she wasn't looking, to undress yourself. As you peeled off piece by piece off your body, you felt the temperature in the room shift and realised it was a bit cold. But as you settled in your position and Amy finally looked at you, you felt your whole body burning with fire.

“Is this okay?” you shyly asked.

Her eyes trailed down your body, taking in every curve, your soft skin, your chest. She could even tell how hard and heavy your breathing had gotten, which caused a shiver to run down her spine. It was silly, really. She would wake up to your naked body as many mornings as she could, but seeing you in that perfect golden light, exposed for her eyes only, took her breath away.

“Perfect,” she managed to word out somehow.

She took a deep breath, and let her mind thrift away, only one thought remained in her mind and that was you. She allowed herself to be taken away by her light brush strokes, she let herself capture the intensity in your eyes, the softness of your body, the sun kissing your skin.

She was extremely immersed in the painting, that she felt as if it wasn't you who she was painting anymore. Sure, you were naked, the piece would tend to have some sexual appeal, but Amy felt as if she was painting something —someone— too pure to ever be turned into just a mere object of lust. She was sure she was painting the vivid image of an angel, and she couldn't believe that she had gotten so lucky to love and be loved by this angel.

“Almost done,” she muttered after what felt like ages, but really it was the fastest she had ever worked on a piece. There were still some more details to add, some lighting to be fixed, some shadows that looked odd. But she didn’t need you to keep on posing, to keep on being naked in the cold room.

“Is it finished?” you asked in disbelief.

“Not yet,” she chuckled. “I’ll keep on working on it later, I don’t need you to stand still.”

“I like being still if I have your eyes on me,” you grinned at her.

“I like it as well, but I can’t have you catching a cold,” she said, as she wrapped you around some warm coat she had lying around for the cold days.

“Thank you, for doing this,” you said, pecking her lips.

“I have you to thank, my muse.”

“Oh, so now I am your muse,” you playfully scoffed, your arms snaking around her shoulder while hers found your waist.

“You always have been,” she muttered as she left a kiss in the corner of your jaw. “I just guess it’s now official,” she chuckled, her uneven breath sending chills up your spine.

“Is that so?” you giggled. “Then, please do tell me more about it,” you said, throwing your head back giving her access to the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I don’t feel like talking right now,” she bit your skin.

“What do you feel like doing?” you were already breathless.

“Well…” she said as her hands drifted away to the belt securing your coat.

“Oh, I see,” you laugh, bringing her lips to yours.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#amy march #amy march x reader #amy march x fem reader #amy march x you #amy march x y/n #florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x y/n #little women #littlexscarletxwitch's fic

157 notes · View notes

eddiezpaghetti · 8 months

Text

Okay, so my experience with Stranger Things is a weird one.

I didn't care when it first came out, started to watch it out of "might as well" in 2020, wasn't interested in it enough to make it past S2, forgot about it outside of going "oh, hey, cool, there's a lesbian in it now, I guess," in S3, got really annoyed when "Running Up That Hill" got popular from it because it was a song I listened to on fucking loop after one of my best friends died in high school and I fully expected its appearance in the show to ignore the whole survivor's guilt theme of the song (and was very happy to learn later that it did the exact opposite of ignoring the lyrics), saw people drawing Eddie, suddenly got a lot more interested, watched just the fourth season like a fucking psychopath because I was seriously only there for Eddie, then got interested enough to start the show over properly, having mostly forgotten what I did watch of the show before.

And let me tell you something from the perspective of someone who started with the complete fourth season, who wasn't there from the start, who wasn't tainted by ship goggles or this internal battle of hope and despair, who wasn't theorizing about what the painting could be or expecting Mike and Will to kiss when Volume 2 happened or rooting for Mike and Eleven's relationship to go down in flames or whatever the fuck. Just someone who went blind into Season 4.

It's really fucking obvious that Will and Mike are gonna be endgame.

Like holy fuck. It's so fucking blatant I don't even know why people are nervous.

No sane fucking person would shoot this scene this way if they wanted the audience to care about El and Mike as a couple. Despite being all blurry in the background, Will's reaction to what's happening here is smackdab in the fucking middle, clearly showing that the important part is what's going through his head here. What he's feeling. It's like the opposite of that scene from Kingdom Hearts II where Sora and Riku reunite and Kairi just fucking vanishes into the aether while it's happening because, despite the fact that she was standing between them when the scene began, she doesn't matter to the scene, so she's just kind of gone when the camera angle changes. Will could have been behind one of their heads, or so far in the distance he blends in with the background, but he's not. He's so obvious that despite being massively blurred out, he's still the first goddamn thing you look at. What, you think that's an accident? You think he's in the middle of this dramatic fucking scene because of a mistake? He basically has a big flashing neon arrow pointing at him with "THIS IS THE POINT" being screamed through a megaphone.

And then this?

They're paired up like they're taking fucking prom pictures. Each one of these pairs is so fucking close to one another and so fucking far from everyone else. It's not, "Oh, they're standing vaguely near each other in a group shot," it's fucking Noah's Ark out here. Again, there's no way to take this as an accident. It's not just a framing issue. If they wanted to make the shot look balanced while still not hiding anyone else behind El, they would have scattered people around much more naturally. Even if they wanted to keep Nancy with Jonathan and Hopper with Joyce, there's so much room on that hill for three people to stand on El's left and three on her right. But they didn't do that. They put Mike and Will together on purpose in the most obvious way possible.

Like I get that coming up with crackpot theories is fun in and of itself and I'm not blaming anyone for having fun. I totally get the appeal of arguing a point and reaching for every stupid little thing to pull into it because it's like a game, okay? I've done that. But if you're trying to actually convince someone (whether it's someone who wants to believe or someone who's pissed at the very idea that Mike and Will could be in love), stay away from blue and yellow lights, stay away from costume design, stay away from the existence of closets in backgrounds. And don't worry about whether Mike's gay or bi when he's in love with Will either way. I'll give you a little tip about persuasion: You're only as strong as your weakest argument. Even if you've got strong stuff in there, too, the person you're trying to convince is going to dismiss anything you say as complete insanity the second you start going on an entire tangent about the shape of a character's fucking pocket.

Sometimes, clothes are just clothes. Sometimes, there's a closet in the background because it helps establish that a character is in a bedroom. Sometimes, blue and yellow are just a couple of colors that look nice together. And sure, it might be set designers and costume designers and cinematographers smirking and winking at the audience from behind the camera. But if the show was just those things, instead of those things in the context of everything else, they wouldn't be saying anything of note.

But this?

This tells a story all on its own. Someone with no context can look at this and automatically assume that each paired person is standing with someone they care about deeply, seeking comfort as they watch some sort of disaster unfold. And yeah, romantic couples usually come in twos, and we live in an amatonormative society, so that's going to be the first association anyone makes seeing a bunch of people paired off.

It's the same reason you look at this

And go, "Oh..."

"Those two are probably a couple."

And I genuinely don't understand how people could have watched S4 Vol. 2 and gotten scared. Because as someone who went in with no investment whatsoever, I just looked at these two--

--and went, "Oh, those two are a couple. Good for them." And I moved on. Shut up about the trees for five seconds and just see the forest for what it is.

Oh, and if you're still nervous? Little thing from a storyteller here: You don't leave a hanging thread like "Will confessed his romantic feelings for Mike by projecting them onto El, but Mike either didn't understand or at least didn't say he understood," without coming back to that later. That's Chekov's gun hanging on the wall, babes. It's gonna fire at some point. If Mike was going to reject Will's feelings, if they weren't relevant, they would have had that discussion in Argyle's van. There'd be no reason to leave you in suspense.

#byler #meta #stranger things #theory #I mean I fucking guess #in the same way gravity is a fuckin' theory.#It feels silly that I even have to say this honestly.#Watching people freak out over these two feels like I'm being pranked.#Like you guys aren't pulling a Goncharov are you? Just making believe there's any chance these two aren't gonna be endgame?#Like completely ironically? And I'm too autistic to catch it?#It genuinely feels like I'm explaining that red and blue make purple here. As if you guys should have learned this in kindergarten.#Or like watching whole-ass adults watch Cinderella for the first time and being on the edge of their seat #wondering if she's going to live happily ever after with the prince or not.#It feels like I'm talking DOWN to people and I don't WANT it to feel like that but it's so obvious and I don't want people to be like #anxious for no reason you know?#Like I get that we're all scarred from queerbaiting and I know you guys are biased from years of shipping these kids.#But like. These guys? The most obvious 'there's only one way this could go' couple I've ever seen? You're scared about THEM?

378 notes · View notes

kairiscorner · 1 year

Note

Helloo, can I request Miguel with an artist reader who draws him a lot? 👉👈 Like the reader has a secret crush on Miguel and he inspires them a lot, without even knowing it. And maybe there's a Gwen-and-Miles-like-situation where Miguel by accident discovers the drawings of him in their sketchbook?

AAAAAAAA ANON THIS IS SO CUTE !! tbh i wanted to finish the miggy fic i had for ate @binibinileonara bc i wanted to connect these two together, BUT I COULDN'T RESIST, I'LL MAKE IT SEPARATE BC WHY NOT !! thank you for the lovely idea btw (i also had an idea like this actually in my notes) THANKS FOR GIVING ME THE OOMPH TO DO IT !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

you always had this desire to capture all that interested you in its full beauty, in its unbridled greatness. that was, to you, the essence of all your art pieces; they always reflected how you saw the world, how you saw nature, how you saw people.

you never believed people had one or two faces to them, you believed people were multi-faceted, that every person was a kaleidoscope of beauty, skills, quirks, flaws, fears, hopes, and dreams. you loved capturing every bit of people who intrigued you the best you could, and you hoped that if you stood back and admired the big picture that was them, going over the details and fibers that made each person their own–from the good, bad, pretty and ugly details–you would finally see the whole, uncut image of the person you were illustrating; who you were painting in the colors you saw them in, the colors that stuck with you and filled the empty canvas of your mind with all sorts of shapes and splotches of hues and shades that formed the image of them when their name would come to mind.

and for some reason... that person to you right now was miguel o'hara. you had a lot of things to say about him, even words that many would argue don't exist. you felt a myriad of feelings when you were around miguel, and you knew there was more than just the dictating leader miguel that everyone was familiar with. like all people, miguel, too, was an explosion of different kinds of colors to you–colors that only you could see, because when he was around you... he was more than just the cool, calm, and collected boss everyone saw him as.

he was much more caring, much more funny around you. his smile when you told him a funny story illuminated a bright yellow and a warm orange to you–his eyes would twinkle and you'd see the hazelnut brown in his eyes, and a shade of what appeared to be coffee brown at the bottom of his irises. he exuded a commanding aura, a dark, cool blue–but when paired with you, and only you, he exuded a bright red; a color of fiery passion, intimacy, and most of all... attraction.

he was the subject of your affections, you, the soulful and emotional artist that admired him and all that he was from afar and up close. you admired the way he held your hand when you were scared on a few missions, you admired how gently he held you when you two were caught between a rock and a hard place; and how soft and loving his eyes were when they gazed at you. you knew he might have felt a platonic kind of love for you, what with being so comfortable around you and all, but you felt a different kind of love for him–and you hated denying your creative side the indulgence of capturing him in all his beauty.

hence, you began slowly filling the empty spaces of your sketchbooks and notebooks, or whatever other papers lay around when inspiration struck you, with images of him and only him. you caught his face in moments where he was nonchalant, disappointed, angry, grumpy, and... smiling.

when you witnessed his smile for the first time when you met him, that image was burned into your retinas, into your mind, into your heart. you saw that smile from the minute you went to bed to the minute you woke up, the only thing that saddened you was that you could never hold that man who smiled at you and made your heart beat a little faster–you could only watch him and be with him at a distance. but art was the bridge between you two that'd close that distance you wanted to cover so, so badly.

you did, at times, believe what you were doing was... a little creepy. you refused to let anyone see your sketchbooks even before you drew him, and that was out of embarrassment at your drawings. but now, it was a new kind of embarrassment, a feeling adjacent to guilt and disgust at how nobody but he could fill your mind and have you wanting to keep him in your mind by feeding yourself, indulging yourself in putting him on paper and coloring him in; to be with him at a closer perspective than how you two were in the real world.

you had to admit it–seeing him constantly in your mind, wanting to let thoughts of him out on paper as you wanted to be through with imagining him, but knew you couldn't the more and more you portrayed him–it meant you... wanted him. you really, really loved him.

you knew nobody should know, nobody had to know about this little crush you had on miguel. you'd rather die than have someone peek at your sketchbook that was filled with all kinds of drawings of him. but unfortunately, the man himself bore witness to your caricatures and illustrations of him when you left your sketchbook at his office.

you ran as quickly as you could, praying he hadn't opened it out of curiosity. he was always asking you what you were up to, and you'd immediately shut your sketchbook and laugh awkwardly, claim you were merely doodling. you always left out the part that you were constantly drawing him, and only ever him; and now, he'd find out.

as you entered his office, scouring with your eyes for your sketchbook, a figure emerged from the darkness behind you and gave a slight cough. "this is yours, isn't it?" that low, fluid voice was none other than miguel's. you turned around in fear of what he was going to look like–would any of the faces you drew seeing him as be one of the faces you'd see?

to your surprise... no. he had a different, completely new face that you had never drawn him in; a flustered state. he was blushing, his angled cheeks and high nose bridge were covered in a pink-red hue–and he was grinning. he handed you the sketchbook with a now sheepish smile. "i'm sorry, i wasn't sure if it was yours. i had to... look through for a name. and, um... it was very–" he wanted to continue, but then, he saw you were on the verge of tears.

"i'm... sorry..." you muttered, feeling incredibly ashamed of yours and busted for having indulged in drawing him without him knowing. guilt stirred in your stomach and elicited tears to well up in your eyes. miguel smiled, and as his eyebrows curved upwards together to form a look of reassurance, he placed both hands on your shoulders.

"listen, you have a wonderful talent. i'm sorry if you don't hear that enough, but that changes today. i'm so... wow, i'm so flattered you thought i was good enough to be drawn that way. it feels... amazing, to know an artist sees me fit to be their, what would you call it?" he asked as he wiped a tear rolling down your cheek away from you.

"a... muse." you whispered, wiping the rest of your tears away. miguel chuckled. "right, a muse." he said as he inched closer to you, with the sweetest smile on his face. "i might sound really crazy right now, but... i want to be your muse. i really, really want to be your muse." he said, with emphasis on 'your'.

your face lightened up as the tears that welled up gave your eyes a glassy look, and you saw the blush on his deepen as you became more and more flustered. you smiled and wrapped your arms around his chest, pulling him in for an embrace you needed to release. "and i want to be your artist. only yours." you whispered, to which miguel reciprocated your hug. and it was here that you witnessed him in a new color, a pinkish, reddish hue that made you feel all kinds of happiness and excitement.

a love meant to be captured and painted in with bursts of emotion and care for one another.

a/n: I'M SO SORRY IF IT DIDN'T COME OUT THAT WELL NGL I MADE THIS A LITTLE RUSHED 😭😭😭 BUT I LOVE MIGGY HERE PLSSS AND I HOPE Y'ALL LOVE HIM HERE, TOO <333

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spidersona

334 notes · View notes

noco-alienau · 4 months

Text

A Royal Reunion

~~~♡~~~

The palace doors stood wide open, the king standing proudly alongside the two blue aliens who guarded the entrance. They didn't seem very impressed with his introduction, the darker of the two even giving an annoyed huff. He was corrected once the purple alien's tail whipped the side of his helmet.

A small crowd had formed, the heads of other alien's rising from holes in the ground. Their colors had a pattern; they were all higher ranking.

"My, you two must be terribly tired after such a rocky trip," the tall gradient spoke, leaning forward to see the aforementioned couple better. "That pair of blues are definitely not the best pilots. Come along - there's plenty for us to do! How does a tour sound? 5728, you and your partner enter as well. 4043, 3717, clear this crowd."

The newcomers shared a similar glance of worry and confusion before silently entering the castle. The large doors shut behind them with a gust of wind, alerting someone new to come along. A much smaller yellow alien darted in from an unknown direction and to the kings side, prepared to write a list of instructions as to how he could be useful. His yellow eyes glanced to the visitors, the pen and paper, and back to the king. It's in his best interest to pay attention to his ruler.

"Cody?" Noah turned to his fiance.

"Yeah?"

"Didn't you say the king was.. some kind of cruel, ruthless tyrant?"

"Yes, I did."

"Someone who holds unimaginable power and caused the downfall of you and your kind?"

"Correct."

"Why does he look like that?"

"Noah!"

"Hey, hey, I just expected something.. scary?"

"I mean.. he's tall?"

"He has hearts on his antennas. And face. And.. stomach. "

"Stop looking there."

"Do you see what he's wearing?"

"I see what you see, Noah!"

"He looks like an arcade carpet."

"A little bit."

"He looks like a Hot Topic clarence bin."

"Alright, that- that's kind of funny."

"He looks like the back wall of a Spencer's."

"Noah, we get it."

"I'm just saying, I expected something.. different. Not this lavender mess."

Noah's chatter caught 528's attention. How hadn't he noticed this new being? The Codmiester crouched down, his hand cupping under the head of the unrecognizable person and pulling him closer to his eyes. It fit perfectly in his palm.

"Oh? And what might this pretty little thing be?" He cooed. Noah seemed uneasy at the sudden gesture, but due to the kings position, he didn't dare to speak in return. Although not digging into his skin, he noted the long, painted claws the king had. Seemed awfully sharp.

"It's a human," one of the ships pilots explained, removing their helmet. "We couldn't have returned 6827 unless he came along - his order, not ours. His species is dominant on planet Earth, and we believed he would have been useful as well."

"Well, he's quite the sight. I'll be sure to pamper him like any other loyal subject of mine. 2056, make sure his and 6827's room is comfortable once we get there. These guests have a long stay ahead of them."

Cody grit his teeth in an attempt to keep himself cooled. The human was let go and allowed back to his partners side, stumbling over his feet on his way. He wasn't sure if he was uncomfortable with the encounter or not.

The group traveled along a neverending maze of hallways and rooms, given directions of every space so they would know what is where. Restrooms, a ball room, a grand staircase that they had to climb to reach their room. It doesn't seem as if either could pay much attention to anything being said, though.

"And why were you looking at 528 like that?" Cody muttered.

"He looks a lot like you," Noah answered. "I got confused in every way possible."

"Everyone looks a lot like me! We're an alien race!"

"Well, in my defense, you're attractive."

"Yeah, but.. okay, but I'm still annoyed."

"Believe me, you don't have anything to worry about."

Their small argument aside, Cody couldn't help but notice the yellow alien accompanying the king was staring an awful lot at him. He wasn't sure who the other was. It was likely due to his strange appeal, a mixture of alien and human. It certainly wasn't common around here, and if he could recall correctly, Cody knew low ranking aliens such as greens were rarely allowed within palace grounds, more or less greens with.. his look.

"2056, are you marking all of this down?" The king hissed.

"Uh- yes sir!" The assistant was quick to answer.

"Are you? You don't look like you're paying attention."

The yellow alien took a step back, quickly scanning over the paper he was given.

"We visited the ballroom last, we're heading to their room now."

"Watch your tone!"

"I-I'm just answering your-"

Noah and Cody fell silent at the sudden yelling. The assistant seemed far more frightened, having fallen back onto the floor. The king looked to the guests then back to the yellow.

"Oh, clumsy me," he chuckled awkwardly. "How about you take the night off? I'll show our friends where they'll be staying."

2056 scampered off in an instant. The pair weren't sure if they wanted to be alone with the Codmiester, but it didn't seem as if they had any other choice.

"Don't worry, loves," he said with a light purr. "Lets get you settled down, shall we?"

Writing by @plushii-gutz Art by @5t1nky-p1nky ♡♡

#total drama #total drama au #noco alien au #cody tdi #noah tdi #alien cody

76 notes · View notes

aziraphales-library · 6 months

Note

Hi! Your account is so great and I really appreciate what you guys do here.

Im not sure if there are many of these out yet, but I’m looking for good fics of what season 3 could look like. Like the events of 1 and 2 are the same but then we get to see them dealing with that ending.

Thanks so much!

Hello! Here are some series three speculation fics...

Armageddon Part 2: The Second Coming by Halfling (M)

Takes place immediately following the end of season 2 of the show. Crowley just wants to be left alone but he keeps getting interrupted. Heaven is MIA, Hell is up in arms, and no one can get a moment's peace.

what we could have been (and what we one day shall be) by meetmeatthecoda (E)

The next time Crowley sees Aziraphale after the day he broke his heart, entered a blinding white lift, and left him behind, it’s in almost the exact same place. Three interminable months later. That awful day, driving aimless and slow in a silent Bentley, Crowley wasn’t sure if he would ever see Aziraphale again, let alone so soon, considering the way they left things. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t care if he ever clapped eyes on his white blonde curls, steel gray eyes, and ridiculous tartan bow tie ever again, but the tears threatening to spill out from behind his sunglasses betrayed his true feelings. (Not to mention the random but persistent spots of bright yellow paint on his car’s otherwise pure black sheen, ruthlessly rubbed out with an index finger the temperature of an open flame.)

Bad Omen by lavender_mo0n (T)

There is a common misconception that owls are a bad omen, a warning sign for death and destruction that is to come. On the contrary, a better way to describe it is to say that they are a symbol of change. That change may come in the form of death, but perhaps that is more in reference to the death of life as we know it. And perhaps a certain angel is about to experience a ~very~ big change.

On the Side of the World by profdanglais (M)

The demon Crowley has gone rogue. Precisely what “rogue” looks like on a demon who was never anyone’s idea of “manageable” is something neither Heaven nor Hell is currently equipped to deal with. Hell is rebuilding and Heaven, under the auspices of the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, is focused on spreading the Word of their prophet, known as the Second Coming--of what, exactly, remains unspecified. Neither side seems to remember who Crowley used to be, nor have they bothered to change the passwords. The Metatron has no interest in demons, rogue or otherwise. His Plan is going swimmingly and he couldn't be more pleased. Now if only he could figure out who’s responsible for all these unauthorised miracles that just keep happening, far and wide, on planet Earth.

Of Gardens and the Second Coming by Serenity_Black (E)

Starting moments after S2E6... The new Supreme Archangel Aziraphale is in Heaven, juggling the Second Coming at The Metatron's behest. Crowley is wrestling with his romantic realizations, and losing. What is it going to take to get our lovestruck beings back on track so that they can save our favorite Libra and all its inhabitants? And where are God and Satan in all of this? There’s a lot of ground to cover before this ends, as it was always going to, in a garden.

The Better Book: A Brand New Testament for the End of Days by HollyGhostLightly (T)

The Second Coming is underway and it turns out there are competing plans to determine the fate of the world! An unofficial/unauthorized Season 3 of Good Omens… to stop the bleeding. 💔 Excerpt: Aziraphale frowned as his intelligence was insulted once again, “How can you expect us to put our faith in something that lacks any detail whatsoever?!” “Let’s try to remember the plan is still technically ineffable. I’m doing my best to make it effable for you guys but some things are obviously outside of my abilities.” The angel growled, “Oh, the plan is effable alright! If you ask me, it’s completely fucked!!” “Real nice language, coming from an angel! You’re putting money in that thwart jar!”

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #fix it #good omens s3 speculation #mod d

63 notes · View notes

syncrovoid-presents · 1 year

Text

Wally and the Colour RED

Wally and the colour Red have an interesting relationship in Welcome Home. This is a rambling/analysis of different things I've found that makes me believe it's an important detail moving forwards with the Welcome Home Mystery!

First! Why do I think this matters?

There's a few reasons why I think this matters! First, while all the members of the cast seem to be tied to a colour, none is as focused or as consistent as Wally and the colour red! The two primary examples I'll use to cover this is one that we've had for a while, and two that we got in this update. Those being the signatures at the bottom of the guestbook, the interactable telephone, and the name graphics on the transcript page!

Interestingly, all of the cast are directly tied to a specific colour! The signatures at the bottom of the Guestpage and the colours of the "calls" on the telephone are the same for each character. This being pink for Julie, orange for Sally, yellow for Frank, green for Poppy, turquoise for Howdy, blue for Barnaby, purple for Eddie, and red for Wally. This is consistent (and possibly something to pay attention for in the future?)

Notably however, Home is signed by Wally, while the audio file for Wally's "call" recording is also called "duet" when you open it in another tab. Audio files with "duet" is a sign that Home is present. This means that red is not strictly a Wally colour, but also the colour for Home!

(if you're curious, the other audio called "duet" is Wally's little song he sings)

This is interesting, because Wally and Home are often treated as a duo, moreso than any other characters of Welcome Home. I would also like to point out another detail, one that I think ties into this tie between Wally, Home and the colour red.

The Records

All the records from Wally's hidden message ("I will help you understand neighbor, I will find a way soon.") are red! Sure, some are glitched, but they are all red. As is this record with the strange audio (has anyone decoded this yet?). This audio is directly tied to Wally, as it's called "(DRAWING?) WITH WALLY DARLING".

However the hidden one's may not just be Wally. Though they are all name the tab "answer" when opened, I'm tempted to say that "answer" is wally prompting us to answer (or, alternatively, Wally is trying to answer us, however he perceives us).

I believe that Home is there too in the audio. If you listen to all of them in a row, turning up the audio will reveal that there is a heart beat in the background. This, I want to say, is Home and not Wally, as Wally does not seem to register them. It peaks about halfway through with Neighbor, coincidentally the audio that is both glitching and is made of a series of clicks rather than voice lines.

I have seen people say that this is "Help Me" or "Hello" in morse code. I do not know which is the agreed translation is (to me it sounds like "…. . ..-.. .. -.. ---", which translates to "HEĘIDO", which is not a word. However it most resembles "…. . .-.. .-.. ---" which translates to "HELLO")

Regardless of what Home may be saying, it shows that the hidden recordings can be put together into a timeline that sounds like one recording, which means it's most likely all recorded at the same place. Ergo, Home is in the hidden recordings as well!

Other spots where red is brought up

There are other instances of red being tied to Wally. Some are obvious, like his love of apples (red ones specifically), the Wally prints/finger paint on the bottom of the guestbook, the background of the "i <3 Wally" gif/sticker in the sticker section of the site (also shared with Home. Wally's character description is also shared by home!), Wally himself in the "so-below" page, among other things. Such as the Wally themed telephone being red, despite his more iconic blue swirled hair (or blue and yellow-trimed sweater), his clothing in multiple official artworks, the Wally cereal box, and more.

(Like something I've noticed, which is that Home is the only house that's a solid colour (red!) without any pattern breaking it up, plus the most "standout" red that Wally typically wears being tied around his neck (symbolism?). Plus the "W" of Welcome Home is red! That's fun too!

There's also some... stranger ones. Such as this hidden piece of morse code found by this person, which spells out ".. -- .-. . -..", or "IM RED" when translated to english.

And more hidden ones too, that tie into the hidden staff page (I have a post breaking that down that you can find here!! I cover everything I could find plus went through the website code, if you want to know everything about the secret staff site check it out!)

There is the red safe, which has in WHRP universe lore!! I delve into this in my other post, just know that it is something that exists both in the secret website (it is what introduces you to the hidden website!) AND it exists in the WHRP world, both written about in printed emails and as a physical object seen within The Room:tm:. You may also notice everyone is represented by their original colours, except for home, who is now white (or blank?).

There's also scrap pieces of red paper spilled on the ground in The Room:tm: (that have drawn spirals), a red clock in the style of Wally's red car, a red painting of some sort on the wall of The Room:tm: (that we never get a good look at, though it may have a drawn yellow eye in the upper center), a red apple, and most importantly of all, this:

The Red Notebook

This is no ordinary notebook. This here is the notebook that the WHRP team have "loaned" the Question Answerer, also known as the Head Curator of Question Answer! according to the printed emails. This book is very important because there are multiple signs that it was written by Wally. Inside is a sketchpad attached to the lefthand interior bookcase with little paintings and a handprint suspiciously similar to that on the bottom of the GuestBook page and doodles in the styles Wally has used (spirals, finger paint smiley face, the drawn apple, etc).

(by the way, if you're interested in what the note says the most accurate translation I've found is by Tumblr user truckfreaks

"Hello,

My name doesn't matter. I am here to catalogue something I'm not sure is fully real. But it must be. I'm holding all the evidence in my hands. Pictures. Characters. Text I can barely read. It's called "Welcome Home" and it looks like it might've been a children's book? Like I said, I can't tell.

It was sopping wet when I found it. When I first reached into one of the brightly colored envelopes, my hand was already covered in some gross, [unknown - possibly “oozing”] material. It feels like antiques are always covered in some kind of grime. I'm trying to clean up what I have and do a little more digging.

There's only one name I can make out right now... Wally. Probably important, but like I said, I'll keep looking.

XOXO"

The wrap up (don't want to make this too long!)

Regardless of what you make of this, it shows that there is even more proof of Wally, not just the character but the Wally ""haunting"" the website and the Wally within the WHRP universe, all being tied to the colour red. (Quick clarification: The Wally we see in branding, clips of the show, etc are all Wally, however he isn't current Wally. He is the Wally of the past, the original Wally, the base Wallly, whatever you want to call him. Therefore I separate him from the "now" Wally. It's unconfirmed whether the Wally that's seemingly trying to communicate with us through the website is the same as the Wally that seems to be related to all the objects being sent to Question Answerer, who is the same Wally that is constantly calling them. If so, then there is only one "now" Wally. If they are separate, then there are two, possibly one in the website itself and one focusing on Question Answerer. Please note, this is all speculation).

While it's true that red is Wally's favourite colour, I believe that it's far more than just that tying Wally and the color red together. Going forwards, anything red that isn't immediately branded as a Wally related object should be considered important, at least I think so.

As for the connection between Wally and Home, both sharing the colour Red? I think this primarily is a display of how the two characters either rely on each other or are, in the vaguest of ways, tied together by fate.

Good bye for now!

#welcome home #wally darling #welcome home analysis #wh home #i have... so many thoughts!! so much I wish to ramble on!! but I shall leave it with this #hopefully it makes sense! if not I will re-read it later and maybe make it more comprehensive #but summary: red and wally!! important!! this is important!!#also question answerer... you and me we're buds from another universe @:)#the reason why question answerer is mentioned is because their part of the story is VERY important when analyzing #the background WHRP-universe happenings. The objects are heavily implied to be coming straight from the Welcome Home world #(though covered in a black ooze. The same ooze mentioned in the letter BESIDE the notebook tied to Wally AND the same ooze growing on #growing on the walls of The Room:tm:)#Other objects appearing in The Room:tm: also have this black ooze. AND!!#this black ooze is known not just by Question Answerer (who seems to be the main restorer of the Welcome Home media)#but also by the WHRP team.. who directly tells Question Answerer that if they feel nauseous #dizzy sick or otherwise unwell around the stuff.. to just ignore it!#denial TRULY is the BEST medication folks /it is not please take care of yourselves!!#however the emails (printed? which is suspicious?) between the WHRP team and Question Answerer are... odd #very odd. An oddness that goes beyond a simple company acting in corporate interest over employee safety #maybe I should cover that?#hmmmm so many things!! so many thoughts!!#Alas my habit of writing much in the tags cannot be stopped. anyways thank you very much for reading!!#I encourage you to share thoughts (if you wish! No pressure of course!)#syncrovoid.txt

177 notes · View notes

inevitably-ineffable-husbands · 1 year

Text

Crowley's Bentley = Crowley's Heart?

Putting on them clown damned shoes again, y'all. Had a thought last night while typing out today's additions to my GO S2 Meta...

Is Crowley's Bentley supposed to be a metaphor for his heart?

THINK ABOUT IT:

In Season 1:

The Bentley survives the fire because Crowley believes with all his heart that he and the car will make it to save Aziraphale.

Crowley drives fast because his love for Azzie makes his heart race.

Speaking of driving too fast, when Aziraphale say's "you drive too fast for me Crowley", subtextually he means "your heart moves too fast for me, I'm not ready for you".

In Season 2:

Crowley's houseplants (the only things he supposedly loves) are in his Bentley (home is where the heart is??). He didn't have the heart to throw them away, so... he put them in his heart where they will be loved.

Crowley sends Aziraphale away from the bookshop to protect him from the threat of Heaven, and the safest place he knows is (his heart) The Bentley, which will take care of Azzie. He literally locks Azzie away in his heart to keep Azzie safe and sheltered away from everyone.

Crowley can feel everything happening in and around the Bentley. He knows when his heart slowed down because he wasn't worried about Aziraphale anymore; his heart desires to please Aziraphale and make him happy by driving slow, playing music Aziraphale loves, offering him sweets, and being painted yellow like Crowley's eyes. Crowley only threatens because he's worried Aziraphale will find out that he loves him if the Bentley keeps up with being adoring to Aziraphale. GUYS I THINK WE'RE GOING TO GET A DOTING-HUSBAND-CROWLEY is what I'm getting at, here.

That said, the Bentley ADORES Aziraphale, trying to follow him and keep him safe. And immediately does what Aziraphale asks, just like Crowley usually does.

At the end of S2E6, the Bentley plays the music Crowley is thinking about immediately after their spat and his failed confession, then shuts it off angrily because he’s heart broken... so he “breaks the (love) song” by shutting it off and out of his heart.

BASICALLY what I'm saying is that in the 90 or so years he's owned the Bentley is when he truly realized he was IN LOVE with Aziraphale and poured all that love into the Bentley instead to compensate.

Shax even says to Aziraphale in S2E4:

"Sometime, in the last 80 or 90 years, I remember hearing that you and Crowley were an item."

Very specific numbers, mentioned TO the love interest inside of the damned Heart itself, isn't it? And we know Shax can read into people's hearts (she does it numerous times in the season, specifically with the Crowley mirror, Maggie, in S2E5 and again to Aziraphale in S2E6, revealing more about Crowley and Azzie).

I reckon there's a LOT more, but like... DAMN this feels like Phones and Hearts all over again. I'm not sure if this makes the Bookshop Azzie's heart (right now I'm thinking MAYBE??), but that's something else to explore after another rewatch. That would mean, if the Bookshop was Azzie's heart, that he realized a LOT longer ago than Crowley he loved him. Hmm.

Let me know what y'all think! <3

#good omens #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #spoilers #crowley's bentley #crowley's heart #go metaphors #go meta #my meta #good omens meta #my thoughts #putting on my clown makeup as we speak #i might be getting deeper guys #my endless rewatching to support the show #is turning into obsession about subtext again #damnit #subtext in go

176 notes · View notes

gamequoteshowdown · 9 months

Text

Thank you everyone for making this happen! Now, without further ado, the match-ups for Round 1!!!

Round 1

"I've been waiting for this!" - Akihiko Sanada, Persona 3 / "You're just a corpse who doesn't know he's dead" - Valter, Fire Emblem: Sacred Stones

"Are you going to be our goddess of victory… or our angel of death? Doesn't sound too bad to bet my life on that." - Keiji Shinogi, Your Turn To Die: Death Game by Majority / "Don't fuck with a witch!" - Bayonetta, Bayonetta

"Teammates!? Friends!? To hell with that! Why am I inferior to you!? I was extremely particular about my life, my grades, my public image! So someone would want me around! I am an ace detective! A celebrity! But you… You're just some criminal trash living in an attic!? So how!? How does someone like you have things I don't!? How can such a worthless piece of trash be more special than me!?" - Goro Akechi, Persona 5 / "I was just gunna ask you to sell a gun to this child." - Starlo, Undertale Yellow

"I want you to live." - Charlotte Wiltshire, Hello Charlotte Series / "Your hair… sunset colored. I like it." - Queequeg, Limbus Company

"The hope to end pointless conflict… The hope to tell your daughter how much you care… It is our mission as apothecaries to ensure that everyone lives long enough for their hopes to become reality. Even if it costs us our own lives." - Castti Florenz, Octopath Traveler II / "Game is clear when 2 zombies hold hands!!" - "How to Play" Narrator, Loving Deads: The House of the Dead EX

"Thanks to you, I am saddled with unnecessary… feelings" - Miles Edgeworth, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney / "I am so fucking normal right now" - Harry du Bois, Disco Elysium

“SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL IS GOING TO HAPPEN” - Harry du Bois (in the form as a potential mural painting), Disco Elysium / "You pull out your cellphone and access your old Tumblr. You have ten, but you specifically access the Garfield one." - Narrator, Monster Prom

"… Nice meeting you again, you FUCKING WHALE!" - Ishmael, Limbus Company / "My guess is no one's ever loved you before" - Woody, Kingdom Hearts 3

"Take care, [player]. I was lucky to have known you. Though the parting hurts... the rest is in your hands!" - Grovyle, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky / "Far out, man." - Netzach, Limbus Company

"I'll be back once I eliminate that devil called poverty from the world!" - Partitio Yellowil, Octopath Traveler II / "Elder gods from the whole cosmos have awoken to taste your cookies." - Narrator, Cookie Clicker

"Hello! This is the part where I kill you!" - Wheatley, Portal 2 / "Now we come to the question : Do I kill you? Do I tear you apart to my heart's delight? The choices of the beautiful are unbearable. How's a girl to choose?" - Alice Angel, Bendy and the Ink Machine

"I am Ferdinand von Aegir" - Ferdinand von Aegir, Fire Emblem: Three Houses / "Her metabolic processes are of interest only to historians." - Miles Edgeworth, Ace Attorney: Trials and Tribulations

"It ain't a matter of guys or chicks... I'm just scared shitless of being rejected" - Kanji Tatsumi, Persona 4 / "...also Stanley is addicted to drugs and hookers" - Narrator, The Stanley Parable

“You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?” - Happy Mask Salesman, Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask / "I have no idea what to do with my life, but that's okay! Because I'm still working hard! Even if it's on nothing at all!" - Papyrus, Undertale

"Despite everything, its still you." - Narrator/Chara/Frisk???, Undertale / "In this world, it's kill or be killed." - Flowey, Undertale

“Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves. Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves…” - Voices of the Paranoid, Slay the Princess / "In the quiet glade, across old bark. In the ancient glade, it's always dark." - Gabbro, Outer Wilds

"You take away all their sins, and people aren't people anymore!" - Rokurou Rangetsu, Tales of Berseria / "Do you even get how it feels to have nightmares about doing tango with raw chickens? Eh?" - Heathcliff, Limbus Company

"Life is worth living, even if it hurts you, even if you hurt in it." - Solid Snake, Metal Gear Solid / "I often think about the god who blessed us with this cryptic puzzle... and wonder if we'll ever get the chance to kill him." - 2B, Nier: Automata

“Oh? Is that how it is? Yeah, okay, I like you too. Neat! Still going to kill you, but now we can both enjoy a mutual romantic subtext to the murder.” - The Razor, Slay the Princess / "Now it’s Reyn Time!" - Reyn, Xenoblade Chronicles

"You lost the coin toss. We both did." - Catherine Chun, SOMA / "I like to drink blood. . . and smoke the weed!" - Dracula, Space Funeral

"Pick a god and pray!" - Frederick, Fire Emblem: Awakening / "Can you believe it? Dragons! In your own homeland! What are you going to do?" - Florentia Candidius, Elder Scrolls Online

""Did you get the Broom Closet Ending?! The Broom Closet Ending was my favourite!" ...I hope your friends find this concerning." - Narrator, The Stanley Parable / "It’s dangerous to go alone, take this!" - Old Man, Legend of Zelda

“Close your eyes for a sec, will you Chigasaki?” “You mean physically? Or to the criminal acts I’m pretty sure you’re about to commit?” “Both.” - Chikage Utsuki & Itaru Chigasaki, A3! Act! Addict! Actors! / "You are all about to perish, do as you please. I'm sorry." - Meta Knight, Kirby Super Star

"Boy" - Kratos, God of War / "Take care of yourself, kid, cause someone really cares about you." - Sans, Undertale

"Almost Christmas means it wasn't Christmas!" - Phoenix Wright, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney / "Dios mío!” (Draw a cross.) “A LIBERAL!" - Harry du Bois, Disco Elysium

"That's it. I'm not paying one cent of my taxes!" - Ema Skye, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney / ""Trust your partner"... And I do. I can't forgive you, but I trust you." - Neku Sakuraba, The World Ends With You/Subarashiki Kono Sekai

"Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." - Ralof, Skyrim / *clap ... clap ... clap ... * "Oh good, my slow clap processor made it into this thing, so at least we have that" - GLaDOS, Portal 2

"hallOO. chikkEN. OKs?" - BOb, Slime Rancher / "Pretty good plan. You could say it was the greatest—" - Charles Calvin, The Henry Stickmin Collection

"Blood comes in four types: A, B, O, and AB. However! No blood test can determine whether a murder was committed… in cold blood!" - Phoenix Wright, Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney / "You ain't my partner anymore, man. You're my friend! So trus' that, yo!" - Beat (Daisukenojo "Beat" Bito), The World Ends With You/Subarashiki Kono Sekai

"I always come back." - William Afton, FNaF Pizzeria Simulator / "So -- as you can see, I'm a *pretty okay* detective -- and an absolutely GIANT COMMUNIST." - Harry du Bois, Disco Elysium

"Ears have a nice mouth feel, very chewy!" - Briar, League of Legends / "This is like taking candy from a baby, which is fine by me." - Shadow the Hedgehog, Shadow the Hedgehog (2005)

"It's a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming... On days like this, kids like you... Should be burning in hell." - Sans, Undertale / "In the dark times, should the stars also go out?" - Steban, the Student Communist, Disco Elysium

“We are a path in the woods. We have no beginning, and we have no end, but something cold and unnatural sits watching us from just beyond our edge.” - The Wild, Slay the Princess / "Strong Pokémon. Weak Pokémon. That is only the selfish perception of people. Truly skilled Trainers should try to win with the Pokémon they love best." - Karen (Elite Four), Pokemon HeartGold / SoulSilver

#not polls #round 1 #tumblr tournament

55 notes · View notes

justplainwhump · 6 months

Text

Shoes

Felt inspired by the prompt by @worldofwhumpcraft I reblogged earlier - obviously, the part about shoes, mostly. I don't even know what this scribble is, or where in canon it would happen (rather early), but have it anyway. Just consider it a bonus scene.

[Pet Safety]

Bea gets her first shoes.

Content / Warning: BBU, BBU recovery, caretaker is new owner.

While handing Adrian the two huge packages from his hand truck, the doorman tried to look past Adrian’s shoulder into the apartment. Adrian raised an eyebrow and leaned to the doorframe instead, his broad shoulders blocking the man’s view - and maybe, probably also intimidating him the slightest bit. Adrian was big. It was only appropriate to use it sometimes.

He signed off on the tablet the man was holding out to him.

"Anything of interest to you in my apartment?", he asked coolly, handing back the pen.

"I’m sorry, Sir, uhm, I…"

Adrian tilted his head. "Yes?"

"The… the pretty, uh, the…, she’s not actually a woman, right? I mean she is, but, like, do you still call it that, when they’re, you know…?"

"Her name’s Bea," Adrian said. "She is a woman."

"Is, she… there?"

"I got insurance for her, if that’s what you want to ask."

"No, I… I know that, it’s in the files, uh, yeah, thank you for providing it. I just… I’ve never seen one."

"A woman?" Adrian folded his arms, making sure to emphasize the muscles on his upper arms.

The doorman actually blushed. "A…"

"I don’t think I want you to see her," Adrian said. "I think I want you to apologize for that intrusion into her - and my - privacy, and I think you’ll need to do without a tip."

"It’s…" He cleared his throat. "Sorry, Sir, I didn’t want to invade your privacy, I… I just thought they, … I didn’t know you’d be that sensitive, I… I mean, don’t you work for WRU?"

Adrian closed the door into the man’s face.

"You know, Adrian Delgado," Bea said from where she lounged on the couch and paused painting her toenails. "You are allowed show me off. I don’t mind. I…" She paused, gestured at the eyepatch. "I know I have this, but I can still offer everything I am made for. I am - we all are made to be looked at, you know?"

"Made to," Adrian scoffed. "I fucking hate that phrase. How about, conditioned or, well actually, tor-"

Bea frowned.

Fuck. He worked for them. He worked for them, he was a good employee, a loyal employee, and he really should stop letting his guard down in front of someone who’d been made to - conditioned to never lie to WRU.

"I don’t like it," he said. "It’s disrespectful."

"Because I’m yours," she said solemnly and nodded. "Nobody should get to look at me, but you."

Adrian carried the first box into the living room. "Not that, either. Because I think you should get to decide who looks at you."

"That’s stupid," she said and closed the yellow nail polish, wiggling her toes at him. "I cannot decide things."

"You did decide on a color for your nail polish."

"It’s yellow," she said.

"Your favorite color," Adrian replied.

"It’s my favorite color because of how you smile when I say that it is." She smiled at him, in a way that made his heart ache. "I don’t decide things on my own. I decide things for your sake. But…" She winked. "I am pretty good at it, right?"

Was there a right answer? Was it right to tell her she was being good? Was it wrong? Was he enhancing her conditioning, using it, breaking it? Fuck. He was supposed to know these things.

"You are," he said. "You’re good at making me happy. I feel like you’re getting better at making yourself happy, too." He got the second box and stacked it onto the first.

She looked at the boxes with a nervous frown.

"I got you something," he said.

Her eyes widened a little bit. Not in excitement, he realized. In fear. "Thank… thank you, Sir," she said, voice dropping into a sweet lilt. "I’ll be good."

"It’s… It’s nothing bad," he hurried to say. "It’s… not for me. Nothing to hurt you. It’s-" He should just show her. He leaned over to pull a box cutter from his desk drawer.

Bea froze, staring at the blade. Her smile became soft and pliant. "You are free to hurt me, Sir," she said. He thought he could hear her hide a sob. "Do… do you want me to scream?"

"This is for the box," Adrian said. "The box." He cut open the packaging tape and threw the cutter back into the farthest corner of the desk, as far from Bea as possible. "You hear me? I don’t want to hurt you. Ever."

"It’s what I’m for," she whispered.

"Not anymore," Adrian said with clenched teeth.

"Then what am I for?" She looked at him, with a tint of hurt in her eyes. "Not for you to hurt. Not for you to fuck. Not to serve you, not to seduce you, not to serve the man at the door or anyone else. What do you want me for, Sir?"

"Adrian," he corrected her, more harshly than intended. "I want you to be-" Free, he thought. Free. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t free her. Not yet.

This was such a mess.

"Happy."

"Happy?," she asked with a frown, that smoothed away once she seemed to develop an idea. "Then let me sleep with y-"

Adrian cut her off roughly. "I want you to know you can move around. That you’re not… restricted." He reached into the cardboard box and pulled out one of the smaller boxes inside. "I got you shoes. I… I didn’t know your size, so I got a bunch of different sizes." He pulled away the paper and lifted a pair of yellow sneakers.

She looked at him, confused, then at her feet. Then back at him. "Pets don’t need shoes."

He knew. At the facilities, most trainees walked on bare feet. At the homes of their owners, it varied. Guards had shoes, of course, standard were heavy boots, equipped to fight. Domestics usually received these ugly clogs that wouldn’t allow them to run but stand stable when they cleaned the floors. Platonics, depended on their tasks. But Romantics? Either nothing, or insanely high heels that emphasized long legs and sinuous movements.

"I think you might find them… comfortable," he said. "It’s a good brand, they’re very light-weighted, and they allow you to run, walk, dance, they’re suitable for anything."

"I can do everything you need me to without shoes." She looked at him cautiously. "Do you want me to run, Adrian Delgado?"

"No, I…" He shook his head. "No."

Bea traced thin scars on the side of her feet with a finger. "Jack wanted me to run, sometimes. A game. Let the pack chase me, then. But he-" She tilted her head and glanced at the sneaker in his hand, almost longingly. "He didn’t give me shoes."

He reached out to hand the shoe over, and she took it gently, ran her fingers over the fabric, weighed it in her hand. "I," she began. "I would like to be better at running."

"You will be," he said. "Shoes will help."

She furrowed her brows, as if trying to understand if he was teasing her, then nodded and slipped into the shoe.

Wordlessly, Adrian knelt down in front of her, to check the size. She stayed perfectly still for him. Of course she would.

"Too big," he said and handed her another box. "Here, try these. I usually go for a run in the morning, before work, twice a week. Around the marina. You can come. Train with me."

She unpacked the other size. "Why?"

Adrian looked up at her. "Because if there ever comes a next time, when someone chases you," he said. "I want you to get away."

"What if it’s you?"

He felt her toes through the fabric, checked how firmly the shoe sat around her foot. This one fit more snugly. Good. He nodded to himself, only then realized he owed her a reply. "Always, yeah" he said eventually. "When you’re ready, Bea, run away. Don’t look back."

"You’re strange," she said.

Adrian smiled, and settled back on his heels. "You know, Bea. You’re the only one from whom this sounds like a compliment."

"You know, Adrian." She reached down to rest her hand against his cheek. Adrian’s heart threatened to skip a beat, when she met his gaze. "Yes. I think it is one."

pet safety tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @gottawhump @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @highwaywhump @tauntedoctopuses @pigeonwhumps @whumppsychology @labgrowndemon @whumpinggrounds @somewhumpyguy @whumpzone @tragedyinblue @theelvishcowgirl @light-me-on-pyre @whumps-and-bumps

#bbu #bbu recovery #pet safety series #recovery whump #prompt fill

50 notes · View notes