#she's a liar and a thief

[ogcosmicfragment]

Well, well, well..... really feels like it 🙃

[fictionadventurer]

*

[wizardnuke]

congrats you fell for the front this character puts on! m9 edition

[elysiumcalled]

My little cousin that we’re babysitting stole my last cans of Pepsi in the middle of the night how am I supposed to FUEL MY ADDICTIONNNN

[clonesupport]

honest confessions - the thief and the liar

it’s dawned on me that not a lot of a lot of people know about max and ronnie’s shared soft moments or just actually how melancholy their relationship is. maybe that’s another lore thing that i made and never talked about but assumed i did lol like their playlist is like 50% self deprecating love songs and ronnie’s playlist is even more depressing TwT

if you’re curious about ronnie’s past that i mention and you have no idea what i’m talking about here’s a link to a post i made about it. it’s old and i’ve changed probably quite a few things but it gives you a general idea of how tf she got herself in the timeline and setting of tow

i havent exactly thought of where in the time line the big heart to heart happens but i know it happens when they’re well into their relationship. post ronnie being angry at max about chaney that’s one thing. they often talk a lot, or mostly ronnie is good at talking about her feelings when the two of them are alone. she always ends up opening past wounds and sobbing about some suppressed emotions she’d forgotten about since her life got flipped inside out. she hasn’t exactly had time to let herself settle with everything. and max listens, offers her his condolences though mostly just lets her speak. he can tell she’s someone who needs to have her guts spilled when it comes to personal issues or else letting them fester and bottle up will only make her feel an unbearable weight of distress and anger. and he’d be right to think so.

this specific talk happens when the two of them are alone in ronnie’s captain quarters. they’ve shared a drink perhaps, it’s later in the evening and they’re lost in topics chatting about anything and everything that flowed. eventually max asks ronnie about her past. all he knew was she’d come from a couple centuries before her 70 years frozen on the hope. he knew they weren’t the prettiest memories but the idea slipped from his lips before he could catch himself from prying. ronnie didn’t mind, she thought she could take it as she proceeded to answer what life was like in the 21st century. she babbles fondly of the good old days, though one thing leads to another she finds herself at the foot of the inevitable topic of her late fiancé.

she keeps going, she wanted him to know about her past, about who she was. why she was so afraid to commit herself to max in the first place when they first brought up the topic of dating. she’d always had trust and commitment issues but everything fortified when she went through what she’d been through. losing her fiancé before her eyes the way she did set her heart cold.

she tells him about the man she loved, the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with. the more the memories came back the more they hurt. tears found themselves involuntarily falling past her lashes and streaking down her cheeks in silence as she told her solemn history. max listened and watch with the most devastatingly gutted sensation in his stomach. he hadn’t known she’d been through so much. he definitely didn’t know she had a fiancé let alone what happened to him. knowing the ronnie he knew now, he would’ve never guessed she’d have ever been the type to have a spouse to be.

with every emotional word that spilled from her lips his heart sank more and more. listening to the details of her memories, to the rasp in her voice and the pauses in her breath as she tried to keep herself from breaking down. had he known the story would be so traumatic he would have never even considered questioning her about her past to begin with.

“i loved him,” her voice quivered as her eyes falling from his, gazing off to the side as tears welling and falling freely. her face contorted attempting to control the many sorrowful emotions within her, “i was gonna marry him.” her eyes looked back to his, his heart breaking at the sight as her control cracked letting out a sob before she breathed in a shaky breath. “it happened so fast… i couldn’t even tell him i loved him before….” her voice trailed off as she closed her eyes, eyes darting around beneath her lids as if playing back the memory in her head. “they killed him like he was nothing and took me like a prize.”

they’ve had many moments like this, but none this impactful to the both of them but especially to max. after this talk he saw her in a whole new light. everything changed from the way he viewed her brashness, to the way he perceived her snark. he now knew where it all came from. the story behind her personality, the trust issues, the intense hatred for his betrayal. he thought she reacted so strongly to him using her to get to chaney as some childish response of putting too much blind faith into a stranger but oh how wrong he was.

she hated him to using her because she felt like once again she’d lost a partner. she lost the trust and she needed that trust like a lifeline. without him by her side she wouldn’t be able to tackle life with her head screwed on right. she’d lose track of everything, of herself. she felt for his betrayal so strongly because if he really did use her and their relationship so selfishly then that meant she once again had no one. no one to guide her through the mess in her mind, the hurricane of emotions she’d suppressed with no one to guide her to shore. she couldn’t stand the thought of being alone again, she’d lost too much.

he saw the reasoning behind her ways, her choices, even the way she spoke. her words held a whole knew meaning with this newly unlocked understanding. but most importantly her habits towards him. the reason she held him so close in their tender and quiet moments. the reason why she told him so sincerely each time that she loved him, her eyes boring into his with an ocean of emotions swimming within them. the reason why she always seemed so sad when she did so, saying those three words with every ounce of bittersweet melancholy she held, brows furrowed and hands gripping him tight. why she’d always stand close to him, always touch him in some way, how each time she had the chance she’d steal a kiss from him. it was because she was afraid that at any moment she’d lose him. that any gaze, any kiss, any words of endearment could be her last. and each time she cherished it like it was the most valuable bounty in the world. she wouldn’t let this one slip away.

[percysheliey]

oh i’m rewatching iwtv and ….. connecting everything …. the theme of memories … louis being an unreliable narrator …. daniel KNOWING … the odyssey of recollection

[keyboard-crat]

So my high school best friend who has a poster on her wall saying Live Laugh Steal is being criminally investigated for stealing close to 10 000€ from her student organisation’s sponsor money 🫥

[jaggedwolf]

pll classpects

very sorry to do this but I plunged a foot back into the pll pit and then homestuck came walking through the door too, so.

spencer: Prince of Mind

hanna: Rogue of Breath

emily: Heir of Hope

aria: Witch of Light

paige: Knight of Space

mona: Seer of Rage

alison: Lord of Blood

[ruegarding]

one thing abt thalia and percy's dynamic that is often overlooked is that percy was punished for the same things thalia was rewarded for. there's a prophecy abt one of the big three kids? percy is treated like a liar and thief and ppl refuse to talk to him. thalia? everyone respects her (including gods!) and assumes she'll do a great job saving the world. thalia is accepted immediately at camp and threatens the place percy spent two years proving he deserves. percy wants to go on a quest to save his friend? he's an attention seeker and glory stealer. thalia? well, she's the obvious choice. thalia comes up w a plan to win capture the flag that's basically "leave everything to me" and percy comes up with a plan that's basically "if you see a good opportunity, go for it," but percy is viewed as the control freak.

what i'm saying is percy had every reason to resent thalia and he didn't. he chose not to. and thalia had every reason to look down on percy and didn't.

even when they were fighting, i never saw it as a power struggle. they were being pit against each other, and instead of doing what everyone expected them to (kronos was fully expecting thalia to kill percy), they chose to love and respect each other. because they're not their parents. they're just two kids who started cracking under the pressure but refused to break.

[azrakaban]

Thief - Mattheo Riddle

A/N: Why did I do this? Far too late too be writing there will be no spell check <3

Summary: Mattheo keeps using pick up lines on you. Will they work? That's a different question...

The house isn't mentioned too much, but reader is implied a Gryffindor <3

n/n: nickname

Warnings: Mattheo (he's a warning okay), swearing, mentions of drugs and cigarettes

...

"Are you homework? Because I wanna slam you down on the table and do you." Mattheo smirked, and you nearly choked.

For the past two weeks, Mattheo had been popping out of nowhere to use stupid pick up lines on you. It's become quite alarming, with him dropping smoke bombs on you to appear out of 'nowhere', flying up to your dorm window on his broom, sending a howler... Mattheo Riddle is nothing if not persistent. And it was all started by a conversation you'd been having with Pansy Parkinson a week ago.

...

"-I just don't think they're that bad. Cheesy maybe, but I'd say yes to a good pick up line actually." You said to Pansy, walking to potions together.

"What constitutes a good pick up line though?" She questioned you, giving you a side smile.

"If it makes me laugh, it's good. The perfect combination of cheesy and funny. Most people overdo them. The craft of a perfect pick up line is an art." You replied, fiddling with the straps on your bag.

Mattheo Riddle then brushed past you, dramatically falling to the floor.

"Ouch! I just skinned my knee! Falling for you." He said, smirking.

You stood there, frozen and confused. "What?" You said finally.

"You said you'd say yes to a good pick up line, princess. How was that?" Mattheo said, standing and looking at you with a small smirk playing at his lips.

You laughed. "Come up with an original one and then we'll talk."

"Oh come on! That was original!" He protested, before being smacked over the head by Enzo.

"Liar, I told you that one." Enzo said, rolling his eyes at you with a 'can you believe him?' expression on his face.

You shook your head, smiling before heading to potions with Pansy.

You smiled, shaking your head as you walked with Pansy to Potions.

...

That was how you'd got to the point you were at now, still waiting for Mattheo to come up with a pick up line that didn't make you want to jump off of the astronomy tower.

That was the deal. If Mattheo could make you laugh with a pick up line, you would go on a date with him. If you didn't laugh, he wouldn't be allowed to smoke a cigarette for the rest of the day. So far, it's been 3 weeks of no cigarettes for Mattheo.

...

"Are you homework? Because I wanna slam you down on the table and do you." You nearly choked, resisting the urge to smash a book over Mattheo's stupid pretty head.

You looked to him with a sigh, being met with a shit eating grin.

"That's my favourite so far personally." He said conversationally, opening his Transfiguration textbook.

"That may just be one of the worst." You replied, shaking your head with a smile.

"Yes, and?" He raised an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your essay. A few other students cast weird looks your way, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin sat together. You paid them no notice, crossing out a few things on your essay.

Mattheo leaned across, trying to look at yours, and you pulled it away.

"Ah ah ah. I know your thieving tendencies, stealing pick up lines from books and people, you're not stealing my Transfiguration notes." You said, glaring playfully.

He rolled his eyes with a small smile playing at his lips.

"Fine. But just so you know, the name for people who can turn into animals is 'Animagi', not 'AniwhatthefuckjustcameoutofRiddle'smouth'.

You glared at him, crossing it out and scribbling over it to make it unreadable.

"When McGonagall asks, I'm blaming you." You said, looking up a definition in your text book.

"Sure. You'll probably find what to say to her under 'I was the recipient of a legendary pick up line.'" He said, gesturing towards your textbook.

You smacked his hand away, and he gasped, recoiling.

"Offended, princess. Offended." He said, putting on an expression of mock offense.

A Ravenclaw boy from your charms class came over, and instantly, Mattheo's guard was up again. He glared at the boy, and the boy, thinking better of it, decided not to disturb you two. You giggled.

"You switch up faster than Snape runs from shampoo." You commented, highlighting a part of your book on merpeople. Mattheo glanced over.

"You know what the little mermaid and me have in common?" He said abruptly.

"Bad grammar?" You guessed. He sighed dramatically.

"We both wanna be part of your world." He wiggled his eyebrows, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying.

"Mattheo, what crime did I commit to end up in this purgatory?" You said, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"The only crime is your criminal beauty." He said with a smirk. You groaned. "Sorry yn, I'm not good at holding conversations. Can I hold your hand instead?"

"I'm going to cry. Or die." You whispered to yourself.

He laughed. "You'll come around eventually yn. You know, my favourite number is 14, because you're the 1 4 me."

You nearly screamed. "Leave. I'm begging you. Come back later."

"Alrighty, fine. Do you believe in love at first sight or should I come back later?"

You threw a book at his head, which he caught somehow.

"Damn girl, good thing I've got my library card because I'm checking you out."

You glared at him, and, finally picking up on his cue, Mattheo left.

...

It had been a few days since the library incident. Three days of peace. Thank god life isn't Duolingo, because you were about to lose that streak.

A note was slipped onto your desk during history of magic. You looked up, read it, and steadfastly ignored it.

'God damn girl r u a bank loan cuz u got my interest ;)'

Another appeared when you started doodling. 'r u an artist cuz u were so good at drawing me in (⁠✷⁠‿⁠✷⁠)'

that one you actually replied to, flipping over the paper. 'damn boy are you the terms and conditions? Because I don't give a fuck what you say ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡' .

When Mattheo received that note back he sighed dramatically, clutching his heart as if you'd mortally wounded him.

A minute later, the note was back on your desk. 'My favourite insect? The butterflies u give me ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯'

You groaned, quickly scribbling a response. 'Can you stop for just a few minutes pls I'm trying to pay attention to the history of magic.'

'I may not go down in history but I'll definitely go down on u ;)'

'Azkaban. Now.'

'xx.'

...

The next day, in the Great Hall, you were saying with your friends when Mattheo came over and joined you at the Gryffindor table. You raised an eyebrow.

"Last time I checked, Riddle, your tie was green." You said, smiling slightly.

"It is. I just wanted to see you in the morning. I mean, kiss me if I'm wrong, but the rain is so heavy right now." He said nonchalantly.

You turned to look out of the window.

It was a clear day, with sun shining through a cloudless sky.

You sighed, turning back to him as he gave you a 'what can I say?' look. You shook your head, smiling.

He turned back to your table, looking at the food. "Do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date?" He said, smirking.

You rolled your eyes. "Go back to your own table Riddle."

"Are you my appendix? Because I feel like I should take you out." He replied, smiling slightly.

"Wait what? Is your appendix okay?" You said worriedly.

"Yeah no it's fine, don't worry. Just a pick up line yn, calm down, it won't bite. Just me making jokes about bad health, like 'are you asthma? Because you take my breath away.'" He replied, shaking his head with a small smile playing at his lips.

"Okay..." You said, still slightly concerned.

Mattheo smirked. "Are you my father? Because I wish you were around more." You looked at him, even more concerned than before. "I'm starting to wonder if you need therapy." You said, a small smile playing at your lips.

"I don't need therapy, I just need you to come to dinner with me, because I can't spell menu without me n u." He said, smiling. You very nearly laughed, which didn't go unnoticed.

Mattheo stood up, nodding a goodbye before heading back to the slytherin table, where his friends were not so subtly calling him over.

"She nearly laughed. Shit." Mattheo whispered to his friends. They laughed. "Not funny. I really like her, I wasn't expecting her to nearly laugh. I'm close." He said, mainly speaking to himself.

Theo clapped him on the back. "You're down bad mate." He said, shaking his head. Mattheo sighed, turning to look at you quickly. "Yeah. J am." He admitted.

...

A few minutes later, you stood, heading out into the entrance hall, and were immediately ambushed by Cormac McLaggen. Yippee.

"Your lips look lonely, do they wanna meet mine?" He said, smirking.

"Are you bad WiFi? Because I'm feeling no connection here." You replied, not looking at him and trying to brush past him.

He stopped you, gripping your shoulder and not so gently shoving you back. You adjusted your bag and faced him, looking confused.

"A little too fast to brush me off there l/n." He said, still with that obnoxious smirk. To be fair, all smirks are obnoxious. Well... not all smirks. An image flashed into your mind of a certain slytherin with curly brown hair and chocolate eyes.

You zoned back into the moron stood infront of you, who was now attempting to lecture you on how you should have replied to his pick up line. You zoned out again, until you registered what he was saying.

"-Make it up to me." He finished, and you raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry what?" You said, looking confused.

"You heard me. You'll need to make it up to me, because you just embarrassed me." He said, puffing up his chest with his own importance.

"I don't need to do anything for you, McLaggen. I rejected you, your ego can take it." You said patiently, waiting for it to sink in for him. You attempted to walk away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the Slytherins leaving the hall. A hand grilled your wrist, painful and harshly. McLaggen glared at you.

"I don't get why Riddle is telling everyone to leave you alone, 'Princess'. You're not even that special, probably just whoring yourself out to the first guy who comes to yo-"

That was all you heard before someone's fist connected with Cormac's jaw, sending him flying to the ground.

You watched in slight horror as Mattheo pummelled McLaggen into the flagstones. Only slight horror though. McLaggen was insufferable.

You watched, frozen, as Mattheo's friends held McLaggen down for him, rather than pulling Mattheo off of him.

Eventually, the teachers arrived and pulled he boys off of McLaggen, whom was now sporting a black eye, cracked teeth, a dented nose and a split lip.

"Nobody calls her that. And only I call her Princess." Mattheo spat.

You were dragged with them to McGonagall's office and told to wait outside.

...

A half hour later, Draco, Theo and Blaise emerged from the office, not looking at all bothered by what just went down. You gave them a sheepish look, and Blaise shrugged.

"We got detention, no big deal." You felt bad, given it was partially your fault.

"I'm sorry you guys got detention." You said sympathetically. They shook their heads.

"It's not your fault, l/n, it's not like you asked us to do anything." Theo said, rolling his eyes, but not maliciously.

"Is Mattheo okay?" You asked carefully, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Enzo said, appearing from McGonagall's office with a smirk. Draco elbowed him, and Enzo sighed. "He's fine, but he's got two months of detention, so no more evening study dates/hangouts for you two." He continued, and you blushed.

"They're not dates." You said, shaking your head. Blaise smirked. "You might wanna tell him that. He comes back from the library looking like Cupid was feeling particularly violent."

You rolled your eyes, smiling. "I'm sure you're being dramatic." The boys violently shook their heads.

"Far from. There are Polaroids. Seriously, y/n, I know we're supposed to be his wingmen and make him seem cool and chill, but the reality is that Mattheo is absolutely disgustingly in love with you." Theo stated plainly.

"And it's a pain for all of us when he won't shut up about you (no offence), so do us a favour and go out with him?" Enzo continued, looking at you pleadingly. "Before he realised you didn't want to be talking to McLaggen, he looked like a kicked puppy."

You pictured the image mentally. Damn his stupid pretty brown stupid eyes.

"I can't go out with him until he makes me laugh with a pick up line I haven't heard before." You said, sighing. "If I just go out with him without laughing, he wins! I can't lose to him, I've been so strong all of these weeks." You said, gritting your teeth.

"Are you saying it's been hard for you to turn him down?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. No. Shut up." You said, hiding your face in your hands and sinking down onto a chair by the door.

"It's okay to like Mattheo, y/n. Sure, he's a massive pain in the ass and he's rude to a lot of people besides you, but you read Twisted Love, you're probably into that." Theodore said, shrugging.

You gave him a look of disbelief. "You know Twisted Love?" Theo blushed faintly.

"I have sisters."

"Anyway guys, I appreciate whatever it is you're doing for Mattheo, but my decision is clear. When he makes me laugh, I'll go out with him." You said, smiling.

"Fine. We'll help him out, because we're rooting for you two." Enzo said, checking his watch. "Don't I know it." You muttered. Enzo smiled. Mattheo emerged from McGonagall's office, looking only slightly like his mood had been dampened. You gave him a small smile.

"You okay Riddle?" His eyes moved to you, and a hint of surprise flickered in them.

"Y/n? Did McGonagall ask you to wait?" He said, confused.

"Actually, y/n is here of her own free will." Enzo cut in, smirking. You blushed, looking down and Mattheo smiled faintly.

"Oh yeah? Going soft on me Princess?" He said, crouching down to force you to look at him.

You looked up and he straightened, still watching you intently.

"In your dreams Riddle." He smiled.

"Actually, you are in my dreams, y/n. You're a recurring dream for me, do you want to make us a reality?" He said, giving you a look.

(I'm sorry I have to insert this, it's this look. This one.)



You smiled. "You know the rules, Mattheo. I laugh, I'll go on a date with you." You said.

He sighed dramatically. "I'm in pain, y/n. Pain. But that is true. And I will be holding you to it." He says, smiling.

"I'd expect nothing less from you Riddle." You fiddled with the sleeves of your sweater.

"Good. Do you mind if I talk to you? Alone?" Mattheo asked, his tone changing to one of slight concern.

You frowned slightly, but nodded. He led you away from his friends, who quickly disappeared off to the Slytherin common room.

Mattheo took a deep breath and turned to you. "Y/n, I know I'm irritating you. I know I'm distracting you, I saw the mark you got on your last transfiguration exam. And I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I was distracting you when you tried to revise, and I keep pestering you everywhere, and if you want me just to leave you alone I completely get it." He said, looking slightly mad at himself.

You opened your mouth to talk but he cut you off.

"And I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything, you don't owe me a date, you didn't have to wait for me outside McGonagall's office just because I fought McLaggen for you. You don't have to do anything for me, okay?" He continued, looking away from you.

"I know I don't have to do anything for you Mattheo. I want to." You replied, speaking quietly and hesitantly.

He frowned, raising an eyebrow. "You want to?"

You nodded. "I like your company. I don't mind having you around, it's fun. You're not as bad as I first thought. Actually, you're nothing like what I first thought." You said, trailing off as you saw his smile.

"And what did you originally think I was like?" He smirked.

"Arrogant. Sarcastic. Bit of an asshole." Mattheo shrugged, agreeing with you.  "Honestly? I thought that the whole pick up lines thing was a joke for ages." You admitted.

The smile dropped from his face. "A joke? What do you mean?" He said, frowning and trying to meet your eyes.

"You know. Like you were doing it for a dare." He shook his head. "Y/n, I'd never do that. I genuinely do care about you a lot. Merlin, I care about you so stupidly much that I punched a guy. I know that's bad, and I swear I'm not usually violent but he was harassing you. And all I could think was 'no. no no no no no.'" He sighed.

You smiled, taking a step closer. "You're sweet, Mattheo. Kinda cute actually." He raised an eyebrow.

"You think I'm cute?" You blushed.

"no. you must have hallucinated it." You said, shaking your head.

"I mean, I'm flattered y/n. I hope you know CPR, because you're taking my breath away." He said, smirking as you stepped closer to him. You giggled slightly, before realising.

Mattheo's eyes widened. "You laughed. You laughed at my pick up line. The one I came up with literally a second ago." You smiled.

"Maybe I did. What does that mean Riddle?" You said, stepping closer.

"It means you should go on a date with me. But you don't have to if you don't want to, okay?" He said, smiling down at you.

"I want to." You said. Mattheo exhaled slowly, stepping closer. His hands came to rest on your hips, not moving. He gave you time to push him away, but you didn't, so his hands stilled.

"You want to?" He repeated, making sure.

You nodded. "Mhm. It's why I've gone along with this for so long." You giggled, as his forehead uncreased and he relaxed slightly, before quickly lifting you up and spinning you around.

You laughed as he put you back down, noticing the lack of space between you. Your eyes flickered to his lips, which didn't go unnoticed.

Mattheo's eyes landed on your lips, and then returned to your eyes. There was so little distance between you two.

You nodded slightly, registering his silent request. "Mattheo..." You whispered. That was it for him. His lips crashed into yours, one hand cupping your face and the other resting on your hip.

You kissed him back, letting him gently back you into a wall, hand moving to the back of your head to keep you comfortable.

Eventually, you both pulled back for air, slightly breathless. You smiled, and he brushed some hair out of your eyes.

"Be mine?" He said in a low voice, practically begging you.

"I'm already yours." You whispered back to him, letting him kiss you again.

This kiss lasted less time than the first, but was still beautiful.

"But we're still going on that date right?" You asked, smiling.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, princess." He replied, smiling as he rested his forehead against yours.

A flash went off, and you turned to see Theodore and Colin Creevey. Theodore took the photo from Colin, smirking. "Mattheo, you're a fucking simp."

"Damn right." Mattheo replied, smiling slightly at you.

...

A/N: My first actual Mattheo fic! Doesn't make sense, seeing as he's my favourite slytherin boy. Anyway, I feel like I'm horrible at writing kiss scenes, so lemme know if it was too cringy or smth like that! Thnx for reading<333

[vlentyne]

“ perhaps, i can persuade you... ” ( @hatakaka )

Eyebrow   raises,   head   cants   to   the   side   as   she   uncrosses   her   arms,   and   back   hits   the   wall   the   closer   he   leans   into   her   personal   space.   For   a   moment,   their   eyes   meet,   and   she   sees   the   glint   of   something   tremendously   dangerous   in   the   reflection   of   her   own   face   within   the   pupils   of   his   eye.   There   is   no   doubt   that   something   sinister   looms   over   this   person,   for   the   first   time   in   a   while,   Faye   is   experiencing   something   akin   to   nervousness   around   a   man.

“   i   dunno   if   you’re   hitting   on   me   or   trying   to   intimidate   me.   I   hope   it’s   the   latter,   ‘cause   otherwise   you   must   really   hadn’t   had   any   in   a   long   time,   ”      steady   is   her   voice   (   attempts   of   remaining   calm   and   confident.   Do   not   let   him   see   you   flinch   ),   “   i   don’t   need   persuasion.   I   don’t   need   your   help,   and   i   don’t   plan   on   sharing   any   information   i   have   about   the   uchiha   kid   with   you   –   you   wanna   find   him?   go   look   yourself.   ” 

  A   moment   of   silence,   a   minute   to   regain   her   strength   and   usual   brazenness   finds   her   leaning   all   the   way   to   him   instead,   clawed   hand   grips   onto   mask   -   covered   chin,   a   cynical   smirk   curves   on   cherry   lips,   “   for   the   record,   stud?   the   only   way   you   could   persuade   me   is   with   a   big,   fat   …   wad   of   cash.   ”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not sharing clients with my coworker?

This submission is using fake names for privacy.

So I'm going to preface this by saying I'm very inexperienced in my line of work. I'm a dog bather, and unlike my other two coworkers Andrea (groomer) and Kelly (fellow bather), this is my first time in a job where I work with animals so I'm still trying to get in the groove on how to act with the dogs and how to do my job. My coworkers know I'm inexperienced and said they're willing to assist me in getting better, which I appreciate.

This whole thing started yesterday when I noticed I had 3 dogs scheduled under me, and none for Kelly, which is a rarity. I was excited to have so many clients under me in one day, since it would be plenty of experience for me. I didnt think anything of the difference in our clientele, since there have been days where i had none and she had plenty, and I never took it personally.

While i was drying my second dog of the day, I noticed my third client was coming in. I decided to ask Kelly if she could continue drying my dog while i checked in my next dog. She said she'd only dry my dog if she could put it under her name and I said no, because i was going to complete the rest of the groom; I just wanted her to dry the dog while i was away for like 5 minutes. She said i could do it myself. I brushed off the rude comment and checked in my next dog before continuing with dog #2.

Fast forward to today, i noticed a woman in the salon waiting to be served. Since Kelly and Andrea were chit-chatting in the tub room, I talked to her and she said she wanted a nail trim for her dog. Since i couldn't find the dog on our schedule, i realized it was a walk-in and decided to put the dog under my name since i had nothing going on.

While scheduling I misclicked and accidentally put the dog under Kelly, before realizing the mistake and put the dog under my name instead. Keep in mind that all changes made to a dog's appointment gets logged.

After that, I was putting the dog onto my table when Kelly walked in. She noted the breed of the dog (one of her favorites) and checked the notes, and saw that the dog had been "originally" put under her name. She immediately asked if I had stolen that dog from her and I told her no, it was a walk in, I had just misclicked when making the appointment.

Just then Andrea walks in, telling Kelly that the dog was supposed to be hers. Immediately, Kelly blows up at me and called me a liar, that i was a client thief, that I was selfish, etc. I tried to explain that it really was a walk-in and that i wasn't lying, and Andrea quickly realized what was up.

She explained that she had been on the phone with the client, realized what breed the dog was, and made a mental note that she wanted Kelly to do the dog since it was her favorite breed. However she told the client to treat it as a walk-in and come in whenever she wanted, which meant no appointment could be made until she showed up.

FINALLY Kelly believed me, but she didn't apologize for yelling at me. Instead she told me that she was annoyed with me because I never share clients with her even though she shares clients with me.

My gripe is that I have never asked her to share any of her dogs with me. The only thing ive asked of her is to let me clip her dogs nails on occasion so i could get more experience and become more comfortable. And that was ONLY when Andrea (salon manager) didn't have any dogs to let me practice on.

I can kinda see where shes coming from, it can be frustrating to have no clients while your coworkers have plenty. And I can see how she thinks im being selfish for not reciprocating her "generosity." And its not like we make commission on each dog yet, so it doesnt matter which dog goes to who.

But on the other hand, like i said, ive NEVER asked her for any of her dogs. She doesn't have to share them with me, and i dont expect her to. But she expects me to share mine with her, despite knowing that i need the extra practice.

So AITA?

Tl;dr-

Coworker is mad at me because I dont share clients with her like she does with me; but I've never asked her for any clients, and its well-known in the salon that i need the practice and experience

[juanarc-thethird]

Indiana Jaune.

The famous explorer Dr. Jaune Arc is in trouble. He was caught by a tribe of Amazon women. He was arrested by the tribe's champion, Eve Taurus, and dragged before the chief, Sienna Khan. Where he will be judged for his crime: Taking their sacred Idol.

Eve: I brought the thief, chief.

She pushes him in front of sienna.

Jaune: *Falls to the ground* Ugh!

Sienna (chief): Jaune Arc, you were caught in the act stealing our sacred Idol. How do you respond to this accusation?

Jaune: *Stands up* Innocent!

Eve: Liar!

Sienna: Eve, let him speak. Why do you claim to be innocent?

Jaune: That artifact does not belong to your tribe. It was stolen from the sacred temple in the volcano and now it will erupt at any moment unless we return the Idol to its respective place.

Eve: Chief, you can't possibly believe that! He is a-!

Sienna: Silence! *Sighs* Your words have some truth in them. After we acquired the artifact, the land where we live has become hostile to us.

Eve: But that doesn't change the fact that he stole from us, a tribe that welcomed him with open arms!

Sienna: My champion is right. Stealing, no matter the circumstances, remains a serious crime in my tribe.

Jaune: I understand, and I beg your forgiveness. Since what I did was not a selfish act, but an act to save this tribe and the creatures that live in this jungle.

Sienna: You are honorable, I can see that. But my tribe will demand compensation.

Jaune: I understand. I will accept any punishment, but we have to return that Idol now.

Sienna: Anything huh…. *Looks at him up and down* I think we can reach an agreement. *She smiles*

Eve: *Evil smile* Oooh ho ho, you're so...

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

Eve: *Heart eye* FUCK!!~💕

Eve is lying face down, while Jaune fucks her along with the help of Sienna. She is pushing his hips towards Eve, by dropping her weight on top of him. Leaving Jaune in the middle of an Amazon sanwich.

Jaune: Oh god~💕 How long do I have to do this?

Sienna: Until every woman in the tribe becomes pregnant. After all, the idol you took was of fertility.

Jaune: But I... But I-!... Oh FUCK!!!~💕

*SPLURT!!*

Eve: 💕Oh GOD!!💕 He is filling me all up!~💕

Sienna: Good boy, now on to the next one.

[idyllic-affections]

achilles heel ii.

summary. love is a sin. the regrator is a sinner.

trigger & content warnings. threats of physical violence, nightmares.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. found family (moreso than the first post), fluff, slight angst. pantalone & young teen!reader, slight arlecchino & young teen!reader. 2.6k words. they/them pronouns used for [name]. this fic is divided into six drabble-like sections. this fic is the second part of achilles heel; please read the first post before reading this one.

author's thoughts. teehee pantalone....... he is never dad-ified enough i swear. he has so much dad potential. look at him. silly rich guy (<- he is a criminal and is NOT silly).

i. a slip of the tongue ♡

       Their enrollment into the House of Hearth came with two specific conditions:

       One, Arlecchino would not have ultimate authority over them. They didn't disrespect her regardless, but Pantalone was insistent that her authority should not exceed his over them. He was their caretaker, after all. They were a special case in the Knave's orphanage—an orphan but not quite an orphan.

       Two, that they returned to his residence on weekends, which wasn't something they or Arlecchino has any qualms with. She didn't exactly get along with the Ninth, but oddly, she didn't argue either of his conditions.

       (They felt immeasurably guilty, however, that they had a home to return to. That was a privilege unique to them. The orphans of the House of Hearth did not have such a luxury; hell, those children could not even dream of a home outside of the orphanage.)

       This was one such weekend. Upon returning home, they let themselves into Pantalone's office—of course, not before ensuring he was not occupied with another Harbinger or other business partners of his. Had he been, they would have only entered once he was done.

       "I'm back, Father."

       ...

       Immediate terror stuck their chest. Admittedly, their reaction once they processed what had just come out of their mouth was a bit dramatic, but still! Had Arlecchino's children somehow rubbed off on them? All of her children tended to call her 'Father', but they only ever called her by her name...

       The Regrator paused what he was doing, wordlessly setting his pen down.

       "...Sorry, dear, could you repeat that? I didn't quite hear you."

       "Um. I said I'm back."

       "After that."

       "..."

       "[Name]."

       "I didn't say anything after, I swear." They were completely flustered now, hand shyly fidgeting with the strands of hair securely held back by what had once been Arlecchino's hair clip while their gaze settled anywhere that wasn't on the Harbinger. "I didn't..."

       "You are a terrible liar."

       "I'm— I'm not."

       He smiled at that, gingerly shedding his gloves and rings.

       He thought it was a bit cruel of him to create any kind of distance between himself and the little thief he brought into his home, especially in what was such an important and vulnerable moment.

       It was then that he beckoned them closer. They obliged, albeit hesitantly. His hands gently smoothed down some wild strands of their hair—presumably caused by whatever the Knave had put them through that day. His tenderness seemed to calm them down a little bit.

       "Do you see me as a father figure, [Name]?"

       They pouted. "I don't know. Maybe. It just came out. I didn't think about it. Sorry."

       If Pantalone was any more morally correct, he might worry about who they were looking up to, but...

       Their immorality was inevitable, really, so he tried not to concern himself with it too much. It was the one consequence associated with taking them in. It was one that simply couldn't be avoided.

       Pantalone had come to terms with that fact some time ago.

       "Don't apologize. I don't mind if that is the case."

       "...Okay."

       He held himself together with skillful grace that was only to be expected of someone like him, but the second they left his office, he slammed his head on his desk, resisting the compelling urge to just sob.

       (...He was probably the reason they had become a tad dramatic.)

       Oh.

       That day, the Ninth learned two things:

       One, [Name] had adopted a more formal method of speech, which was good. It would be useful in the future. His lower priority business partners, the general nobility of Snezhnaya and other nations... those people would all expect his child to take on a more refined demeanor. It was good that they already were.

       Two, which was objectively more important in his mind (because really, he did not care for the opinions of people who had never struggled a single day in their lives), he had unexpectedly become an actual father. Not just a caretaker, but a father.

       Oh, fuck.

ii. third time's a charm ♡

       "Can I keep him?"

       "Absolutely not."

       "Please? Come on. He won't cause any trouble!"

       Pantalone pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, sighing deeply. How could he have possibly gotten himself into this situation a second time? Perhaps he really was spoiling them just a bit too much. "[Name]. You cannot continue bringing wild animals into our home."

       They pouted, holding up the little feline in their arms. It may have been small and harmless at the moment, but a snow leopard such as the one they snatched up from the streets would surely grow impossibly bigger, provided enough time and proper nutrition. "Father..."

       He shot them an annoyed look. They could only smile innocently.

       "Don't 'Father' me, [Name]."

       "I've taken good care of Winter thus far!" Said fox chirped upon hearing her name. "Look, see—she's perfectly healthy. I can handle another pet!"

       "You named her Winter?"

       They shrugged. "It's always winter in Snezhnaya, so..."

       He couldn't help but chuckle fondly, teasing, "Clever."

       "I doubt you would have came up with a better name, Father," they huffed playfully. "Anyways, come on! Look, how can you say no to a little face like this?"

       Neither of the two said anything for a moment. [Name] held up the little squirming cat with one hand, supporting its hind legs with the other.

       It was clear to Pantalone that they would not budge.

       A deep sigh left his lips.

       They knew they had won.

       Once again, Pantalone welcomed another unexpected guest into his household.

       He could unflinchingly deny Il Dottore further funding for his experiments. He could ruthlessly send out the agents employed under his command to collect the debts of those foolish enough to leave them unpaid without so much as a second thought.

       Somehow, he could not deny his child another exotic animal.

       Oh well. At least the feline would eventually grow into a suitable bodyguard for [Name], he supposed.

iii. ultimatum ♡

       Whenever Pantalone had free time during the work week—which... wasn't very often—he had grown into a habit of visiting the House of Hearth.

       His darling child was there. How could he be expected to stay away?

       (The Knave grit her teeth, clenched her jaw, and ultimately bit her tongue when he kept showing his face in her territory again and again. As much as she didn't like the Ninth... she would have to tolerate it, she supposed. He was too preoccupied with [Name] to bother her the majority of the time, anyway.)

       The children were all polite and respectful with him whenever he came around, often pointing him in the direction of their sibling-in-arms. They were typically lingering around the younger children, engaging with them and entertaining them in a way that a doting older sibling might, but for some reason...

       They weren't there that day.

       "One of the matrons wanted to talk to [Name], sir. I don't know why," one of the younger children his child typically surrounded themselves with had told him.

       He was surprised to find that, rather than wanting to speak to [Name], one of Arlecchino's employees seemed to have forgotten just whose child it was she was speaking to.

       "We are raising soldiers," a woman harshly spat, "not regular children. It would be in your best interests, Mx. [Name], to quit teaching them to be soft."

       They blinked.

       "...Um. They're five."

       "Are you even listening?!"

       "Listen," they began, shifting their weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "They're barely five, okay? They'll learn. They can't even wield a sword properly yet. Half of them can't read mid-level literature yet. For now, I think they deserve attention from someone they can trust who won't hurt them. I mean... if I were really doing something wrong, Arle surely would have told me—"

       "You rich little brat."

       That stung, admittedly. With nervous fingers, they plucked at the threads of their sleeve.

       "By the Tsaritsa, if the Ninth himself weren't so enamored with you, I would have your head mounted on the wall for the disrespect you have shown not only us but our Lord."

       She raised a hand, and they flinched back, and then—

       Nothing came.

       "Fa— Father... hi."

       The Regrator's grip on her wrist was crushing, rage barely concealed behind a tight-lipped smile.

       "Hello, dear." Pantalone's eyes were kind when they were on his child, but glazed over with an unsettling iciness upon facing the woman. He leaned down, head tilting slightly as he observed the tense matron who so boldly dared to raise a hand to his child. "Now, I'm certain this was a one-time incident, unless of course you would be interested in taking a... leave of absence to see the Doctor, hm?" His grip tightened slightly in a wordless threat, a promise of a fate more vile than death itself. "A permanent leave of absence, that is."

       Tension weighed heavily in the air.

       Of course, the matron relented. She would have been foolish to not when the fate promised to her would be undoubtedly worse than death.

       "...No, of course not, sir. It won't happen again."

       He released her trembling wrist, adjusting his rings nonchalantly.

       "Good. Go on, then. Leave us."

       "Yes, Lord Ninth."

       She turned on her heel, bowing her head respectfully to both the Regrator and his child before rounding the corner of the hall. Just like that, she was gone.

       Instantly, all his attention shifted to [Name].

       "Are you alright?" he murmured softly, only for their ears to hear. He kneeled down to their level and gingerly tilted their chin upwards to check if Arlecchino's matron left any wounds behind.

       "Yeah, I'm— I'm fine..."

       He was quiet for a moment, thumb gently rubbing along their cheekbone and wiping away the beginnings of tears. The Knave would not like to see them in such a state. The Ninth didn't particularly care for her opinion, but he knew very well that his child did, to a certain degree.

       "...Don't cry, dear. Do not allow yourself to be pushed around. You are worth infinitely more than any agent among our ranks. Do you understand?"

       "Mm-hm. I'm just..." They gnawed on the corner of their lip. "I guess I'm used to it."

       He was quiet for a moment.

       "That will change," he concluded. "You will never be treated so poorly ever again."

iv. bonding ♡

       "Were you never given the opportunity to bake?"

       They hummed thoughtfully, lips pulled into a calm and content smile as they observed their father knead the bread dough they took part in making.

       Indeed, a man as prestigious as him could just have one of his employees do this... but what kind of parent would he be if he refused to bond with his child alone? No genuine bonding would take place if he was not the one engaging with them.

       ...

       Baking also happened to a special place in his heart as a child of poverty, so he didn't mind doing it.

       "Not really. I couldn't afford to. It was too expensive," they mused, trailing off briefly. Pantalone was quiet—patient. He didn't interrupt them or urge them to speak. He simply waited for them to go on. "I didn't get paid well when I was taking thievery commissions. I was small and weak, so it was easy for those older people who commissioned my work to scam me out of what I was owed."

       The Regrator made a mental note to investigate those people further.

       For now, though, his focus was on them.

       "I understand," he reassured. "Baking is indeed an expensive hobby. There was a time where even I could not afford it."

       "I really wouldn't have believed you if you hadn't told me," they said, stealing and snacking on some of the fruits spread across the counter. The Harbinger chuckled fondly, pinching their cheek.

       "Stop that. If you keep that up, we won't have anything to put in the bread. Now, for the next step..."

v. nightmare ♡

       It was the middle of the night when they jolted awake, skin dampened with a cold sweat and fingers relentlessly shaking.

       The House of Hearth's hardwood floor was cold against their bare feet, but it really didn't bother them. It wasn't anything they weren't used to, anything` they hadn't experienced in their past. It was with quiet and purposeful steps that they snuck out of the room they shared with a handful of the younger kids that bonded closely with them.

       Their years of thievery still benefitted them, it seemed, as they effortlessly snuck out without awakening anyone else.

       "What are you doing up at such an awful hour?"

       They practically leapt out of their skin, heart hammering in their chest at Arlecchino's sudden appearance.

       "I, uh—" they began, taking deep breaths in the hopes of calming themselves down. "Um, sorry. You frightened me."

       "Oh? My apologies, then, [Name]."

       Whether or not her apology was sincere was debatable. She seemed to derive very slight amusement from their fright, but gave them a firm pat on the head. It was comforting in its own way.

       "...I had a nightmare," they reluctantly admitted, "so I can't really sleep. Sorry."

       "It isn't uncommon for these things to happen," she replied. "Your apology is unwarranted. You aren't the first and I doubt you will be the last to be unable to sleep."

       "Arle, um... I know I'm not supposed to leave again until tomorrow, but..."

       Arlecchino's eyes were trained precisely on them, and perhaps she might have looked irritated, but in reality, she could not find it within her to be frustrated. They were strong and smart and excelled in the things that they needed to excel in. There was no reason for her to be frustrated with them for something so simple. It was normal for children to seek out their parent following a distressing experience.

       "I will take you back to the Regrator's residence, then. Consider it a reward for your high performance this week."

       "Ah, really? Thank you, Arle."

       "Go get your things. Meet me outside."

vi. found family ♡

       "You're home early, [Name]."

       When they entered Pantalone's office (he lamented the fact that he was still working at such a late hour, but such was unfortunately his obligation as a Harbinger), he was pleasantly surprised, quietly setting down his pen and offering them his full attention.

       "I know." They nodded. "Arle said I performed well this week, so she brought me home a day early. I guess she probably had something to do elsewhere anyway, since she offered."

       "I see."

       A silence settled for a moment.

       The Ninth instantly knew something was wrong when their fingers reached up to their sleeve, absently picking and pulling at the threads. He'd noticed that habit of theirs back when he first put them in the public eye.

       "If there is something troubling you, dear, you are more than welcome to tell me."

       "It's stupid," they murmured, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Maybe they should have just stayed back at the House of Hearth.

       "If it's bothering you, it is most definitely not."

       "I had a nightmare."

       "Ah, I see. Is that why you've come home so late?"

       "...Yes."

       "Do you want to stay with me for the time being, then?" When they nodded, he smiled kindly, opening one arm for them so that the other could be free to finish what remained of his paperwork.

       They were secured in his arms the second he made his wordless offer.

       His fingers tenderly carded through their hair, mindful to avoid his rings catching uncomfortably on their locks.

       Love is a sin.

       In Snezhnaya, love is a sin.

       For his child, Pantalone was a sinner.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

COVEY MY LOVE YOUR REQUESTS ARE BACK OPEN AND I JUST SAW?? Omg anyway I am so predictable y’know I gotta just request something for my main boy, my fav boy, my cutie pie, my babygirl, Connor 🤭🤭

HOWEVER been having a wee identity crisis and I’m gonna ask for Hephaestus reader because I’m second guessing everything I know as an Athena kid simply because of graphic design 😔

So if it wasn’t clear cause I rambled can I have a FLUFFY Hephaestus reader x Connor Stoll (I saw that Connor x Apollo reader.) pretty pretty please

(+ I just realised I call you my love and babe so much and I say love you so if your uncomfortable w that I’ll stop it’s just second nature to me so please say if you want me to stop!!!)

✮⋆˙ the fixer and the thief - connor stoll x daughter of hephaestus! reader blurb

𝜗𝜚 content…connor stoll x daughter of hephaestus! reader blurb 𝜗𝜚 warning…language 𝜗𝜚 letters from the author…of course!! also, i don't have a problem with the nicknames, but some days i struggle to respond to them in a similar manner due to personal stuff. so, feel free to use them, but just know that sometimes i might not use them back. and it's nothing against you, brains are just funky sometimes!!

────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

"and where'd this one come from?" you asked, tilting your head at the boy and inspecting yet another sword the hermes boy passed off to you with a mischievous smile.

"nowhere special. can you fix it?" connor pushed, like he did nearly every week. he'd come in with a new weapon, broken and bent in strange ways, requesting that your fixing abilities were required.

"hmm. does nowhere special happen to be the nike cabin?" you asked, raising a brow at the boy with a teasing smirk. his face fell for a moment, clearly getting caught in his own lie, before he pulled his face back up, rubbing at the back of his neck and glancing away from you.

"whattttttttt? me, a thief? never in a million years!" he mused back, throwing in a wink that had you turning your back on the boy, hoping to the nervous jitters that ran through your hands.

"now you're a liar, too?" you called to him, squinting at the metal in your hands, knowing work would draw your attention away from him and his flirty habits.

"whatever. can you fix it or not?"

"you already know i can fix it."

"obviously. there are two reason i come to you and you alone," replied connor, ducking his head as your attention returned to him.

"oh yeah? pray tell, sly boy."

"one, you're the best fixer at camp. and two...you're, like, really pretty."

"you kiss ass! plus, she's not even the best-" leo called from somewhere deep in the forges but his argument was cut off by a wrench being thrown in his direction, his cries a clear sign that you had hit your mark.

"you think im the best fixer?" you questioned and connor gave you a strange look.

"and pretty."

"yeah, but i already knew that! let's go back to the whole 'best fixer' thing."

"whatever you want, my best girl."

"EWWWWWW."

"LEO, SHUT UP!"

[darlingdekarios]

dance in the winter.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 2,937 content: Sherlock Holmes x f!reader, porn with plot, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v], kink(s) [praise, hair pulling], fluff

though he tried to restrain himself, it was useless – when he avoided you, circumstance always brought you crashing back into him. as he climbed the stairs to 221B Baker Street, he supposed this was one of those times as well.

Eight days, seven hours, and thirty-four minutes ago Sherlock Holmes had been persuaded by way of your fluttering eyelashes to take on one final case before Christmas, though against his better judgment he hardly needed convincing when it came to you. He’d met you months ago now through his sister and, despite himself, he’d found plenty of excuses to intersect his path with yours. The way you had burrowed into his mind was often infuriating, the way he had permeated your mind dizzying.

It was impossible to ignore the growing affection between the two of you – even Enola had remarked on it to you weeks ago and though you were a convincing liar, she was better at reading you. Sherlock’s behavior spoke for itself, Enola thought – the sheer fact he could be seen with you enough times to constitute a pattern meant he enjoyed your company, and for Sherlock that was enough of a compliment and revelation.

Though no one had pushed for an answer, everyone who knew both of you knew the energy that came with the both of you, and the assumption that you two had acted on those feelings would not be unfounded. Several times now, in fleeting and molten moments, Sherlock had kissed you breathless and reverent. Though he tried to restrain himself, it was useless – when he avoided you, circumstance always brought you crashing back into him. As he climbed the stairs to 221B Baker Street, he supposed this was one of those times as well.

“Eight days, seven hours, and thirty-eight minutes spent on your case,” he proclaimed as he closed his watch, tucking it away before fixing his gaze on you. “Only to follow clues to my own home, and to find you waiting for me.”

You waited for him with a smile on your face, sprawled against the worn fabric of his chaise in a dress you knew distracted him, the depth of its color bringing out the best in yours. He closed the door behind himself, dropping his cane beside the door and removing his jacket as he regarded you with analytic eyes.

“I’m afraid I deduced the crime before you, Mister Holmes,” you taunted, eyes sparkling in the crackling firelight coming from the fireplace near you. He closed some of the distance toward you as you spoke, causing you to raise to be seated before him in politeness, though you wished to cherish the way he hungrily eyed you as you lay before him. “I have been waiting here for the thief to return.”

“I assume you’ve decided it’s me,” he assessed, clasping his hands behind his back to resist the urge to reach out and push a stray hair from your face. 

“Yes, Sherlock, I’m afraid you are the thief, and you’ve stolen something very dear to me,” you mused, raising your hand to push the hair from your face instead, almost as if you were further taunting him. “I should hope you return it at once.”

“And what is it I’m accused of stealing?”

“My mind, dear detective,” you sighed, raising to your feet and standing close enough to him that he could make out the details of your face. “All of my sense. I demand you return it at once, I simply cannot pass another day in this state.”

A lazy smile passed his features, one that he gifted to you in privacy, entrusted you with in secret. You etched this one to memory just as the others.

“So, all this week while I have been uncovering clues and following trails,” he began, finally reaching forward to grasp one of your hands. Almost delicately he lifted it, pressing a kiss to your fingers before continuing. “They were all left by you.”

You nodded, fire engulfing your cheeks under his investigative eyes now burning into yours with something genuine and fierce.

“Hmm,” he mused, lowering your hand to rest against his chest as his own fingers traced along your jaw. “Who helped you?”

“I’m offended you think I would need help, Sherlock Holmes,” you quipped, noticing the twitch at the corners of his mouth in amusement. It crossed your mind he likely asked the question purely to antagonize you, though your pride insisted you assert your efforts. “It was me alone.”

“Of course it was,” he nodded, grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Though if you wanted my attention so badly, you hardly needed a game.”

“But you love a good game, or so I’ve heard,” you remarked, eyes light and playful. He had to appreciate that you could hold this back-and-forth with him without losing your footing, the mental dance you’d been in for months now fulfilling a deep need in his mind. “I enjoyed dancing with you.” 

His lips crashed to yours with bruising weight, the time since your last kiss finally settling into Sherlock and building the desire he felt for you. His hands found way to your lower back to hold you closer, covering himself in the warmth of you and swallowing the quiet sigh that passed your lips. The grasp he held on your dress revealed his satisfaction at having you so near again.

Eagerness would never spoil gentle intent. He carefully worked the laces of your gown free, pushing the heavy fabric to the floor when it had loosened adequately and immediately grasping your waist again. He released your mouth from his kiss to run his eyes over your body, his pink tongue swiping against his bottom lip in appreciation and to savor the taste of your lips.

“Lay down,” he instructed while motioning back to the chaise with one hand, releasing his hold on you to admire as you stepped back and listened with a meek nod. Eventually he’d tell you how amusing it was when you became bashful for him, but the comment could wait. Once you were comfortable again, he sank to his knees before you, reaching to pull the undergarments that covered you still with an appreciative hum before discarding them in the pile with your dress.

“Such a clever girl,” he complimented, leaning forward to press his lips to the side of your knee to encourage your legs apart. You listened without him needing to ask aloud, releasing a shaky breath as the cold air of the room passed over your heated core. “This is what you wanted, hmm?”

You could only nod as his fingers ran through your folds, teasing your soaked entrance lightly before running the digits back toward your clit, rubbing a well-intended circle around the already swollen nub. “You like when I praise you,” he remarked, like he was announcing his findings for notetaking. You supposed a man like him likely did keep mental notes. “Let’s find out what else you like.”

His head disappeared between your thighs then, his tongue replacing his fingers to eagerly taste what your arousal had to offer. A low sound rumbled in his chest in appreciation as his hands grasped your thighs, spreading your legs more so he could bury his face in your core, his tongue slipping into your cunt to massage your velvet walls. He was gifted with an unimaginable symphony of sounds from your lips as you fought to hold some composure and he fought to melt it away, connecting his thumb to your clit soon after. 

He felt the flutter to your walls and swapped his movements, reaching to take your swollen nub into his lips with a firm suck as he slipped a finger into you, curling it to massage the sensitive patch behind your clit. Your hips began to move to meet his face and hand desperately as your walls clenched, white hot euphoria washing over you as your fingers flung to his hair, pulling the wind-blown mess of curled locks in overwhelmed passion. 

Though you were in the throes of pleasure you heard the hefty groan that left his chest as he drank your orgasm from you, currently uncaring for tidiness and finding enjoyment in the mess you made of his lower face. When he was certain he’d carried you through it he removed himself from you, standing and displaying the obvious tent in his pants as he offered a hand to you. You took his hand without question, rising to meet him and lean against his wide torso for support. Finding your voice, however, was a task all in itself.

“Where are we going?” 

“My bedroom,” he replied, slipping an arm around your waist to lead you down the hall to the named room. While you knew the room existed, you had always assumed it remained empty…you had certainly never seen him use it before.

“Since when do you use your bedroom?”

“Since Enola made me find a flat mate,” he replied, sending a glance your way as he opened the door and gestured for you to enter. He followed behind immediately, pulling you back against him to press a kiss beneath your ear. “It’s not important right now.”

He turned you gently to claim your lips again, reaching behind his back to close the bedroom door before working himself free of his own clothes. You released a content sigh against his lips, pressing your bare skin to his to soak in his warmth and enjoy the feeling of him against you. When all that remained was his undergarments, he was offering you a taste of yourself with his tongue in your mouth, kissing you in ways that could be written of. 

To his amusement when he released you from his kiss a whimper slipped from your lips at the loss, and he satiated your disappointment with another gentle kiss before bumping his nose against yours. 

“You should have asked if this is what you wanted,” he remarked, offering a light smile when your eyes met his. If you wanted a game to play, Sherlock was the master of such matters, a painful reminder that fueled his mind. “Practice for me.”

“W-what?”

“Practice asking,” he instructed, trailing his kisses to brush along your jaw and to your neck. Infuriatingly, and perhaps admirably, he remembered the exact spots he needed to make you gasp, the perfect pressure to leave you breathless. He asked too much and knew it to be true, though he still insisted. “Perfect it.”

“Sherlock, please,” you whined as he backed you toward his bed, helping you lower down carefully to the cold sheets. Thankfully the cold was chased away by his warmth as he joined you, crawling between your legs and kissing up your chest slowly. “Don’t torment me, I want you so badly. Please.”

“I should make you wait,” he sounded too pleased with himself, too entertained by the desperate hitch in your breath and subtle shake to your legs as you wrapped them around his waist, eager to bring him closer. 

“Please…”

“Patience,” he reminded, sliding his hand down your body as he pressed an infuriatingly chaste kiss to your lips as he slipped two fingers into you. “Are you always this wet?”

“Often…when I’m near you,” you replied hurriedly, hips raising to meet his hand, desperate for anything he would offer you. He raised his head to drink in your expression, mentally noting the different hue to your cheeks and weight to your eyes. Seeing your body respond to him was science, learning the different ways to push you toward bliss a newfound task in his mind.

“Hmm,” he mused carefully, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes, Sherlock, please,” you whimpered as he curled his fingers again slowly, taking in your pleading expression as you continued. “No more games, please.”

He removed his fingers from you to grasp his throbbing cock, rubbing your slickness over himself before sliding the velvety head through your folds. With one last look for confirmation to your face met with a nod and whimper from you he slowly pressed into you inch by inch, holding you closer and claiming your lips again in a focused kiss. When he bottomed out and grasped your hips to hold you closer what were normally calculated kisses faltered slightly as your walls fluttered around him, the stretch to accommodate him making you feel almost too full but pulling a delicious moan from your chest.

When he moved it was as though he had been choreographing the movements in his mind nonstop for weeks…and perhaps he had with the way he seemed to massage every inch of you perfectly with each thrust. Your legs remained tight around his waist, holding him to you so he couldn’t withdraw further than you’d allow him – which he was more than happy to oblige. Focused on bringing you to the edge again the only noises that left Sherlock now were quiet groans in appreciation when you clenched around him, a low gasp falling from his lips when you pulled his hair again slightly. 

It was then when the lava returned to your core, bubbling under his mercury eyes and leaving your lips as a cry of his name. Your walls clenched around him tightly as you reached another orgasm, eyes squeezing tight as you bit into your kiss swollen bottom lip. It was then he found the words for you again.

“You look extraordinary like this…in my bed,” he complimented, his thrusts beginning to falter. You squeezed him tighter with your legs to encourage him to stay, a request he was more than happy to accommodate with a sloppy few final thrusts before his hot seed emptied into you. As he rode out the remainder of his spend, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, sliding one of his hands into yours and lacing your fingers together. 

You wondered if he would always find ways to take you by surprise. 

He was conscious not to linger, removing himself from you and pressing another kiss to your forehead before retreating to his living room, returning with your undergarments in hand. His hair was tousled from your desperation to grasp something and clung to the thin layer of sweat on his forehead, cheeks red. As you admired him you reached your arms toward him as he replaced your undergarments after running a clean cloth through your folds, discarding it to the floor to handle later.

He found his place beside you then, resting on his back and pulling you close to hold you for a moment, willing to relax now that you were cared for. His hands ran carefully along your stomach as he held you, pressing gentle kisses to the top of your head repeatedly to silently thank you for what had transpired. His gentle movements brought you to relaxation soon, raising your head to press a gentle kiss to his jaw. 

“Merry Christmas, Sherlock,” you cooed, repeating the kiss and causing a brief shudder to ripple up his back. 

“Mm,” came a low rumbled reply in his chest before he lowered his head to claim your lips again, aware that he needed to lighten it slightly to accommodate for the swollen bruise to your lips already. 

He held you that way for some time, allowing you to rest and enjoy the serenity of closeness to Sherlock in the afterglow of connecting with one another so deeply. Sherlock took advantage of the peaceful, quiet hours of the night to match it with little conversation as well, instead focusing his efforts on soothing your body and showing his appreciation and adoration. When you began to match his affections with soft kisses and nuzzles with your nose he opted to continue, pressing a kiss to your forehead before standing from the bed.

He reached beside the bed slowly to retrieve a robe, wrapping you in the fabric you recognized as one he wore frequently before replacing some of his clothes – whatever was necessary to move about the apartment with some decency. When you’d tied the robe he offered his hand to you, helping you rise from the bed and supporting you against him just as he had before. Even Sherlock had to admit the fulfilled swell to his chest at seeing you glowing because of him while dressed in his clothes.

“Come where it’s warm by the fire, dearest,” he offered in a tender tone, leading you back to the living room and helping you lower back into the chaise. 

While any ordinary time with any ordinary person you may have simply gone to bed, what was unfolding with Sherlock was anything but ordinary. Instead, you found yourself wrapped in his robe, draped across his chaise, and bathed in the golden morning glow as Sherlock took his place with violin in hand, playing you soothing and delicate songs. It was not long for you to be lulled into a heavy sleep by his music and for Sherlock’s flat mate to follow the sound of a violin so early in the morning. 

“Morning, Sherlock,” John greeted, adjusting his own robe carefully as he entered the room. “I see you found our guest.”

“Did you let her in, John?”

“I did. Did you tell her you figured it out days ago?”

Fondness pooled in Sherlock’s eyes at the question, and the lightest traces of a smile twitched his lips upward at the thought. He glanced away from your face just long enough to properly regard John, shaking his head astutely before returning his gaze to you. John knew the answer before Sherlock confirmed it.

“No.”

Rather than press the topic of the Christmas miracle unfolding before him, John elected to fix morning tea.

masterlist.