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#an anon ask like this makes it easier to believe
m1d-45 · 9 months
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i’m having shining nikki sagau thoughts everybody beware. so first of all like i remembered that elves canonically exist in miraland (idk if we ever mentioned this before) and there’s elves or at least elf-like creatures in teyvat…… i’m connecting the dots (<- they’re not connecting shit)
second of all. the new skins. “sailwind shadow” and “blossoming starlight” are SUCH designer’s reflection names like if i opened up shining nikki and saw those there they wouldn’t even be out of place. idk about everyone else but i think it would be cute if sailwind shadow was bandit. i have more to say but i need time to put my thoughts in Order - teddy anon
shining nikki!!
honestly despite red being in my head on and off, i didn’t even CONSIDER sailwind shadow and that is a tragedy. i have his skin but didn’t do the quest relating to it yet (it’s a costume he wears for a play right?) but the entire thing with this event. god he’s so perfect.
blossoming starlight is probably just klee but higher energy and less fear, and while i don’t doubt the power of klee dps i do doubt your conscience allowing you to bring a child into battle, double so after red split. she’s just. a little girl. so we move on.
sailwind shadow. i’ll choose to interpret him as a mix of the dagger bandit and kaeya himself, which makes for a fun little guy in my opinion. always trying to sneak you off to somewhere “more interesting than sitting around all day, no?” and thinks that the others are being far too uptight. does he understand the gravity of the hunt? absolutely. but whereas red (and the two archons) want to keep you safe in the cave you’ve made home, he’d much rather whisk you away down a path in the forest.
less for combat, i’d imagine, leaving that to nikki and the others. has quite a few stories to tell, most made up but some gathered from his weak memory. dislikes kaeya, but less so than red, surprisingly. he seems to view him as having no other choice, that he’s “already conflicted enough without that fake touting him about as their sword.” he views kaeya with more pity than anything else.
he and red have a.. strange relationship. at their cores, they are diluc and kaeya, but that affection is hidden beneath the several layers of trauma painted over. they both worry for the other in their own ways—he checks red for injuries from afar when you all regroup after a fight, and red makes sure to make chicken mushroom skewers when he’s having a bad day—but it’s still a tough trial. it’ll probably go quicker than diluc and kaeya, but you’ll have to wait a while before they connect properly.
in his early stages, he’s not all that dissimilar from red. clingy and always hesitant to leave, but does do more to try and keep your attention on him. he’s kaeya at his core and the costume is from a play, so he’s got quite a few tricks up his sleeve to prolong his stay.
(these tricks commonly include starting to tell you a story only to reveal that the ‘ancient artifact’ is one of fischl’s arrows, or red’s rings. your laughter is enough to keep him stealing them back—anything to be the source of that shine in your eyes.)
less prone to violence than red, and definitely safer to take out in public after everything’s over. at worst, he’ll make a passing comment, but is too worried about his image. what if you see him sneer, or if the other person sees and tells you? no no no, it’s far safer to just pull you away again, even if he has to lie as to why. you’ll understand if the crowds are getting to him, or if he feels trapped indoors, right? you were meant to be amongst nature anyway, so if anything he’s just doing you a favor, surely.
(he doesn’t often leave your side as you sleep, but he did see red in the middle of.. taking care of some things once. while he prefers to keep his hands clean—it’s awfully hard to lie to you, and he doesn’t think he could stay quiet if you asked—he doesn’t look down on red’s choice of problem solving. he recognizes the person beneath his boot anyway, hands slightly twitching at the memory from earlier today. when the two of them return to camp by morning, he lets red do most of the talking, only adding in the small half truth of “just having some fun” when prompted. he did his best to wipe his sword clean of any unsavory stains, but does keep it safely in it’s sheath whenever you’re around.)
however, just because he’s less violent than red doesn’t mean the source of said violence went away. he still gets jealous, and if he finds his theatrics don’t make you laugh as much as they used to, he‘ll begin to panic. are you growing bored with him? are his stories getting predictable? do you look down on him for running away with hunters with you instead of staying like the others do? he promises he’s not just dead weight! please, what does he have to do? do you want him to be more like barbatos? he can’t quite help you fly like he can, but he can try to pick up a bow! do you like red more? he’d really rather not get blood on his outfit, but anything for you. anything, anything at all… just keep your attention on him for a little longer. please?
#m1d : [chats]#teddy anon#and teddy!!!!!!#the shining nikki saga#kaeya is so whimsical we love men haunted by the horrors of their past#sailwind shadow… literally What Is His Name#i keep defaulting to ‘shade’ but idk if that only sounds good cause i chose it-#he’d literally lose his shit if you wanted to give him a name by the way. red would rationalize it as for convenience and not think of it—#cause he’d hate to be a problem and changing it once he could speak would just be more problems—but shade? loses his mind#reads into it 10 times over#still replays that memory sometimes as he watches you sleep#he doesn’t sleep btw. always watching you; either to make sure you rest easy or for his own enjoyment… unclear. the others are too afraid to#ask at this point tbh. he probably needs to but the occasional nap when one of the others takes you out is enough for him#he’d normally hate to see you walk away from him but you’d worry if you saw him looking sleepy so for these select times he allows it#worse attachment issues than red. red would be fine if you disliked him for his violent acts and would be content knowing you’re safe#but shade? not a chance in hell. if you show the slightest signs of thinking anything less than highly of him it’s like his whole world#falls to pieces. his first days—when he was conscious but couldn’t let you know—were literal hell.#being dismissed? you might as well have ripped out his nails; it would have hurt less.#once he managed to convey to you that he was also splitting it was a lot easier. he couldn’t talk yet but you were holding conversation with#him anyway (nikki had told you this made the splitting process easier and you were inclined to believe her).#he is. so pathetic i love him. god he’d probably cry if you even suggested he was doing something wrong.#sailwind shadow#he gets his tag :)
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pencilofawesomeness · 2 years
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Pencil that httyds microshot gave me so many thoughts and feelings, I couldn’t stop pausing to smile stupidly I absolutely love it. It also gave me a terrible idea that I never want to see the light of day but have to excise from my mind, the accursed evil twin of this trope, the “you’re not my real dad”. If you promise never to write this, then I’ll promise that if you ever do you’ll get a cathartically distraught response.
asdfhsgjdsg that hurts my heart just to think about ;-; I'm all for that juicy angst but I'm not that cruel I swear ;-----;
(Besides there's soooo many other sources of family angst in this series, ehe~)
But thank you! I'm glad the fluff was fluffy! Y'all need it the DT Interlude is coming. It was very fun to write, and though I had a few more ideas for scenes, I was also writing most of that on my phone at 2am while I was at work, so what happened happened. Maybe I'll write some more one day.
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phrynewrites · 2 years
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Do you have any fake dating au hc? Ive been missing my idiots more that usual lately
Of course hun! Happy pride month time to be dumb as fuck!
Sometimes when Bosco doesn't have to work, they'll just stop by the studio and watch Jasmine practice. Even before they were fake dating, her coworkers would tease that her girlfriend had come by to watch her, only to be surprised when they met Jasmine's actual girlfriend.
Even though Jasmine dances professionally, Bosco isn't too bad themselves. When Jasmine's at home and really needs to work through something, she'll enlist Bosco's help to get the movements right or to mirror back the steps to her so she can see from another perspective what she's doing wrong.
This also means a fair deal of dancing around the kitchen and living room, bumping into the countertops and coffee table and shoe rack. And the whole time they're just giggly and enjoying each other's company, twirling one another around.
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theflyingfeeling · 11 months
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Please do not cry darling 🥺 you are amazing and loved and doing so well and I'm very proud of you 🫂❤️🌈🌻☀️
ironically messages like this only make it harder to not cry 😭
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adhd-merlin · 11 months
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Unpopular opinion: I don't really get Gwencelot
hmmm yes. getting closer
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sinofwriting · 6 months
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Private Professor - Max Verstappen
Words: 5,576 Summary: For years and years, Max has claimed that he has a girlfriend, but no one has ever met her and he refuses to talk about her with the media. And it’s far easier to believe that he’s lying when no proof of a girl exists. Note(s)/Warning(s): Small Age Gap (Reader is nearly two years younger), Some Angst, Mostly Fluff, Jos Verstappen. Thank you so much to the anon that requested this! I had a lot of fun writing it!
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At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship is all blood rushing to their cheeks, fluttering hands, kisses that last too long and not long enough, panting breaths, and hickeys below shirt collars. It’s whispers of forever, of I’ll take you here and there. That house will be ours one day. Whatever you want, you’ll have. I’ll be on break, you’ll come home and I’ll be waiting. You’ll follow me everywhere and I’ll do the same.
It’s promises they don’t realize they shouldn’t be making but do. It’s sweet nothings and petty fights that last a day before they’re back in each other's arms. It’s pretending not to notice how his dad watches him amused as he walks calmly out of the door before sprinting over to her house and sneaking into her bedroom. It’s her parents pretending not to hear the thud of him falling into her bedroom and the light giggles their daughter makes.
At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship changes. It’s no longer seeing each other when he doesn’t have a race or training and is home, no Red Bull duties to be done. It’s long phone calls, texts, snapchat streaks, learning how to video call. It’s carrying two power banks with them everywhere and Max buying them both expensive phone cases that charge their phones. It’s falling asleep on the phone while the other is just beginning their day. He attends classes with her, while she listens to him train. He goes to red bull meetings and pretends not to have the light sound of breathing in his ears from her falling asleep while studying or doing her homework.
Fifteen and seventeen, brings them peace. She’s still studying like a mad woman at Harvard of all places, but he’s got an F1 seat of all things. He’s in F1. He suddenly has more things to do but more free time. When he’s not racing or at the factory or doing weird press things that make him want to rip his hair out, Jos is putting him on a plane to America, to her. And he soaks up all the time with her he can, despite it being filled with her studying, attending classes, and forcing actual food down her throat which her parents both thank him for.
It also brings the stupidest thing in the world; the doubt and disbelief that he has a girlfriend.
Carlos is the first to bring it up upon seeing his home screen that’s just all black, not even the default that iphone has.
“No girlfriend?” Max frowns at him, pocketing his phone and sending a glance over to where his father is standing and talking to his race engineer. “What?” “Your home screen, it’s all black. You don’t have a girlfriend?” Carlos is teasing, joking. The whole paddock already knows that Jos Verstappen wouldn’t let his son have a girlfriend, not now when he’s got an F1 seat. Such a thing would be a distraction and Max isn’t allowed those. Max isn’t allowed friends on the grid either. Carlos wonders though how much the last part is just a Jos thing. “I do.” Then he says her name, all soft and sweet in a way Carlos never thought Max could be. It’s nearly enough for him to believe Max, but then he catches a glimpse of Jos and shakes his head, clapping the seventeen year old on the back.
He is the first to not believe Max, but far from the last. It’s Daniel next, Christian, Esteban, Pierre, Sebastian, Lando, every interviewer that asks.
It doesn’t matter because at seventeen and nineteen, she gets her second degree and begins the nightmare of getting her doctorates in education and history. And he picks out a ring before making his father hide it away. And instead of him constantly flying to her, she’s flying to him. Hiding out in his Monaco apartment, turning his living room into a disaster zone as she spreads her things around to study.
The mess drives him crazy, but he doesn’t move anything no matter how much his hands itch to do so, instead just pressing a kiss to the top of her head before pressing himself in between her and the couch. Grinning when she sends him a look, a clear don’t be a distraction, before giving him a kiss.
His days in Monaco when she’s there are spent in the living room after training, playing fifa or watching some documentary for one of her classes with her, and poking at her lightly because he doesn’t know shit about history but he’s still able to remember countries quicker than her.
They turn eighteen and twenty and nearly get married when her family goes on vacation to Vegas, dragging the two along despite them not being able gamble, which is the only reason her parents had chosen Vegas. The only thing that stops them from getting married is him not being a US citizen and her visa just being for school. It’s a fucking wakeup call for him and he can’t help but pester her about places in Monaco to live.
She entertains it for all of five minutes before she’s cupping his face and kissing him. When she pulls back, she’s shaking her head. “As long as it has you and four bedrooms, I don’t care.” “Four?” “We’ll need our own offices and a guest room.”
It’s barely anything for the real estate agent to work with but he doesn’t care. He wants something that’s at least four bedrooms, two baths, a decent kitchen, and a view. She liked the Monaco sunrise and sunset and he planned on letting her be able to see it anytime they stayed in Monaco.
His agent gets back to him in a week and he ignores the look on Daniel’s face when he comes over for the first time. Ignores the jokes about it being too big for one person just like Daniel ignores him saying that he has a girlfriend.
“If you had one, I’d have seen a picture of her mate. The whole world would.”
Max still remembers the way his jaw had twitched at the thing everyone said. That if he had a girlfriend, they’d have seen a picture of her, that he’d be showing her off every second, have her at the races, been seen with her. When Max had made it abundantly clear that the worst part of driving was the media, the fame. So why would he ever subject someone he loves to that when they both weren’t ready for that?
Because they weren’t. He wasn’t ready for another part of his life, one of the most important parts, to be something for everyone to look at and dissect. And she wasn’t ready for it either. Not when she was doing so much studying. She barely felt like she had time for him, which he denied and hated vehemently, she didn’t have time for the online vitriol of being a girlfriend to a high profile athlete. And she didn’t need to be harassed as she attended classes and studies groups and such if someone recognized her and didn’t like that she was with him.
Not showing any pictures or videos of her was also easy for him. It wasn’t because he didn’t have any, he had hundreds. But they were pictures and videos of her, only meant for him. Not because they were dirty in nature, though some were, but because how she was in them was something only she allowed him to see. It was photos of her with a finger pressed to her top lip as she glared at her books, videos of her sitting on something too tall for her feet to touch the ground and letting them swing. It was her smiling at him, all fond, shy and in love.
It was them wrapped up in each other's arms and love. Her in between his legs or the other way around. Her sitting on his lap as Vic stole his phone to video them laughing and exchanging kisses. Her giggles as she tries not to fall asleep as reads her books to him over facetime. It’s her in her purest form and he doesn’t want the people in his life who are so quick and sure to not believe him to get to see that.
Nineteen and twenty-one, she officially co-owns their place in Monaco and he starts scouting out property in Belgium and land in France that’s somewhat close to the principality he lives in. It was too early to start building a house to live in forever, not when they weren’t sure what they wanted to live in forever with their kids, but it wasn’t too early to buy the land for it.
It also leads to their biggest fight in years.
“Max!” Her nails are digging into her arms. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I want to help, that I can pay. I have money!” “And you don’t need to!” He’s yelling as well, face red with anger. “I’ve got money too! You don’t need to pay for shit when I can.” She shakes her head. “Really? Is that how it's always going to be? I won’t ever get to pay for anything? Just have a salary and trust fund wasting away.” She scoffs, giving another shake of her head. “Is it about being the breadwinner? Because don’t worry Max, I’m well aware that you’ll always have more money than me. Doesn’t mean I can’t contribute to our life.” “Fuck.” He murmurs seeing the tears brimming in her eyes but not falling, the hurt in her words. “It’s not about that at all. It’s not about being the breadwinner.” “Then what is it about?” Her voice is high pitched. “You won’t let me pay for a single thing! I can’t buy groceries without you slipping money back into my wallet. I can’t help pay the bills and now you won’t let me help buy the land that will have our house on it. What is it about Max?” “You’re mine.” Her eyes widened at his quiet but firm tone. “You’re my girlfriend, the love of my life. One day my wife and the mother of my children.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, feeling words and feelings he’s only ever really let come out during sex or when they're both so drunk they barely remember anything the next day. “I want to pay for everything because it’s providing for you, it’s making sure you’re eating, sleeping somewhere safe, getting the best, most accommodating flights. It’s knowing that I’m providing for my family.”
“Max,” she breathes out, arms falling away from her chest and then she’s moving closer, resting a hand over his racing heart. “You want to provide for me?” He nods. “For our future kids?” “Yes.” “So do I. So, we’re going to work on this. You want to buy the land, you can.” He looks at her distrusting, because this didn’t sound like working on it. “But, I get to pay for groceries when I go out for them, without you paying me back. I get to pay for netflix because I use it more and spotify.” She adds. He frowns at her. “I don’t like it.” “Too bad and I’m not done. In return, you get to pay the bills, put gas in the car for me,” he grins at that. “Pay for my flights and we are going to open a joint account to put an equal amount of money in every month. For things like vacations, anniversary dinners, and the kids. Because it’s important that I get to help provide for them too. And when we build that house together, I want to pay at least half of the contracting fee. I’ll let you pay for the rest.” “I want to pay for any of the kids' interests. Like art, ballet or karting.” “No deal.” She shakes her head and he’s frowning again. “You can pay for all the karting, it will mean more. But I want it out of the shared account for the other things. Unless,” she pauses. “Unless,” he encourages. “If any of them decides to go to university early like me, I want to pay fully for it.” “No.” It’s quick and now she’s frowning as well. “It’s our children and their education. Shared account.” “Their first degree.” He shakes his head. “And if it’s their only degree?” Her brows press together, it was a good point. Just because they decided to go to university early like her didn’t mean they’d go for more than one degree. “First year.” His eyes narrow as he looks at her, but he nods. “First year. But only of the first degree.” “First degree only.” She agrees.
It’s quiet between them before Max lets his face soften, lips twisting slightly into a smile. “Are we done fighting?” She laughs, but nods. “Yeah. We’re done fighting.” “Thank god.” He breathes, pulling her into his arms and burying his face into the crook of her neck. “Let’s not do that again.” “Not anytime soon at least.” “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love you too.”
Twenty and twenty-two has their families asking when exactly they’re getting married, wondering why there isn’t a ring on her finger and their only saving grace is their time spent in Monaco together away from them all. But when it gets to be too much as pressure builds as she tries to finish her doctorate in education while still working on her doctorate for history, it’s Jos that steps in for her and Max.
The three of them shared a complicated relationship. She could never like him for the parent he was to Max growing up. From the near abuse he hurled at him when he failed, the pressure he put on a child, the leaving him in a foreign country for a few hours when he wasn’t even a teenager more than once. But she did love him, because Max loved him and in his own way he loved Max and he showed that with his support of their relationship when everyone expected for him to have a problem with it, label it as a distraction. And now as a few years had passed and Max was comfortable in his F1 seat, he was Max’s fiercest defender, unwilling to back down, but would if Max told him too. And he was her fiercest defender as well. Glaring at jokes about her not needing a degree with the money Max made, not forcing her to join on trips when she was busy with school or questioning her support of Max because she didn’t attend races.
So, neither Max or her are surprised when Jos steps in when her grandparents are trying to back them into a corner as to why she doesn’t have a ring on her finger and how they have a number for a wedding planner and she should really give her a call, when all they want is to get breakfast before retreating to their room so she can resume her studies while Max hovers around her while going over his own work.
She hadn’t been thrilled at first when she learned that Jos would join them on the trip, knowing that Sophie wouldn’t be there, but now she was grateful and she made sure to squeeze his shoulder before leaving the kitchen and scheduled a nice quiet dinner for herself, Max and Jos as thanks.
The media becomes relentless when they’re twenty-two and twenty-four and Max wins his first championship. Because there is no girlfriend in sight despite the now champions thanks for her support and love. They tear Max apart for creating a fake girlfriend that has no name or face, call him unloveable with his fake championship. Some tear her apart as well, calling her gold digger, selfish, undeserving, fans of Max and the sport do as well.
It was supposed to be a happy moment for him, one of if not the best in his life, but it’s tainted, ruined, and as soon as he’s home with her in Monaco, all she can do is hold him and pretend that the texts from his friends begging him to go out and get laid don’t make her cry later in the shower.
Despite the texts and a bold one from Daniel about hiring him a prostitute, she forces Max to go out, to celebrate with the drivers in Monaco, to get drunk and have fun, and forget what the media is saying about him.
“I’m coming back if one of them even hints at a prostitute.” He tells her and she laughs, but she knows that he’s serious. He’s never even once considered cheating on her and one of their first serious fights had been about her trying to convince him and herself that she’d be okay if he got lonely while he was traveling and needed someone. He hadn’t believed it for a second and it had been one of the few times he had been so pissed at her that he couldn’t even stomach to look at her.
“Am I making a mistake, mom?” She asks, barely five minutes later, not even bothering saying hi when her mom greets her over the phone. “No.” Her mom’s voice is firm and has her blinking away tears. “But,” “No.” Her mom cuts her off. “Sweetheart, I can’t even begin to try and understand Max and yours relationship. But this, this privacy that you two have, that’s not a mistake. It’s rough right now and it will be. And it will come back later when you two do decide to be public, but it’s not a mistake. You two both made the difficult, heartbreaking, mature decision to keep it private for both of yours sake.” “I know.” She whispers, wiping away tears. “You both still need privacy and there is no shame in that. Max isn’t ready and neither are you. As far as I’m concerned the only mistake you two have made is still not being married with a baby on the way.” “Mom.” She groans and her mom laughs. “I know, I know. Just remember that despite the seven or so years you’ve been together, that you two are still young, still doing so much growing.” “Thank you.” “Of course.”
When Max arrives home hours later, drunkenly stumbling around and into bed, she’s not surprised by the smell of liquor clinging to him or the drunken murmurings he’s pressing to her skin. She is surprised by the deep inhale he takes and the splutter that makes her turn to face him.
Eyes a little blurry from sleep and wine, she makes out squinted eyes, flushed face, and a frown.
“You’re drunk.” “You’re drunk.” She replies, curling closer to him. “You’ve been crying.” “Yeah.” He slips an arm around her, pulling her closer. “We’re going to feel like shit when we wake up.” “Yeah.” He chuckles, brushing lips over her forehead. “That bad?” “That bad.” She nods.
At twenty-three and twenty-four, the itch that Max has had since he was nineteen, one that’s grown worse and worse as the years have gone by, is too persistent and he takes a quick trip to his fathers house the day after she turns twenty-three and returns with a ring and the promises they made at fourteen and sixteen, promising them all over again, as she stares at him with a smile and teary eyes.
“I’d be stupid to not want to marry you Max.” She tells him when he slips the ring on her finger, breathing a sigh of relief when it goes on, fitting perfectly. “You’re going to marry me.” She nods, giggling at his blown pupils and silly grin. “Yes, I am.”
It seems stupid to be so giggly and flustered about it, so love sick, when they’ve talked about it so much. About getting married, about houses, kids, life after racing and teaching. But it’s different with the ring on her finger. Not more real or tangible. Just more.
“I know I proposed early.” She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck and his arms eagerly wrap around her waist. “It’s perfect. I know we talked and had plans, but this is perfect. Besides, I’ve got news of my own that’s early.” “Oh?” Max’s eyebrow raises and he knows it’s not possible, not really with her religious use of the birth control shot and the way they mainly use condoms, more for convenience than anything else, but his eyes drift down to her abdomen that’s exposed. There’s no difference, but he can imagine what it would look like, he can also imagine what it will look like in a few hours. “Not that.” Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth. “I got an email about my viva exam.” “Your viva? But you haven’t submitted your thesis yet.” “Actually,” “Stop.” He lifts a hand to press it against her mouth. “You submitted your thesis already? You completed it?” She nods, her laughter muffled by his hand and he drops it. “Well, what did it say? The email.” “Once I get to the ceremony, I will officially hold a doctorate in education and history.” He kisses her before she can say anything else.
“Unbelievable my love, unbelievable. Two doctorates by twenty-three.” He shakes his head, smiling wide. “You know what that means right?” He shakes his head again, unable to think of anything. Too overcome with his proudness and love for her. “I’ll have my position at Harvard right after the ceremony.” Blue eyes widen. “And they agreed to let me teach a mix schedule for all of 2022, but when the official school year starts for 2023, I’ll just be teaching digital.”
Twenty-three and twenty-five has them weathering the media storm once again as Max wins his second world championship. It’s worse this time. Not because he says more than he did last time about her or says her name or slips up and calls her his fiancee and not girlfriend like they agreed to. But because this championship no one can deny is his and she’s still not there. Too busy in a different continent with the start of the school year as she teaches by herself for the first time since earning both her doctorates.
It’s also not as bad this time, because some of his friends do think that he’s seeing someone, not the girlfriend of years, or even really a girlfriend, but just some random girl that understands he’s too busy for an actual relationship and willing to put up with him spouting to the media and everyone else that he’s in a committed relationship. She doesn’t have time to focus on the media and fans that believe she exists, she barely did last year, but this year she really doesn’t.
“You know,” she says five days after he’s won his championship and they are in the house they have stayed in for the past two years when she has to be at Harvard and he wants to join her. “Around this time next year, we’ll be public.” His face does a weird contortion at the thought. There was a giddiness to the idea, to the thought, but also dread. “That means,” she continues when Max doesn’t say anything. “That you have ample time to figure out how you want to tell people.” “How I want to?” “Yeah. This is your world, your friends, colleagues, nightmares,” she adds and they both laugh. “You can decide how exactly you want to get back at them for not believing you.” “I’m not going to be cruel.” “No.” She lifts her hand and lets her pointer finger trace over his lips. “You’ve never been a cruel person, Max. But you can be a menace.” His eyes light up at that. “Oh. And you don’t care?” She shakes her head, “This is all you and I’m more than happy to be along for the ride.”
She is twenty-four and he has just turned twenty-six when he decides to enact his plan that he came up with so many months ago.
He had made a reservation for a private hall in Monaco months ago, hired a party planner to take care of the finer details, but sorted himself out the place and the food and drinks that would be served. And the day after he turns twenty-six, he picks up the large stack of enveloped invitations he had made and carefully packs them in his suitcase for Qatar. He was winning the championship there and he’d be damned if he didn’t make an already memorable weekend even better.
It’s the first time in a decade she has traveled with him to a race to actually watch the race and not just be there at the hotel to support him as she studies and he can’t help the smugness and happiness that radiates off him when he shows up to the track for the first day.
He’s got his backpack over his shoulder, but the invitations are already in his hands, ready to be passed out.
“Max!” Charles greets when he arrives in the driver's debrief room. All twenty of them, plus reserves, team principals, and Daniel sitting and standing around as they wait for the FIA representative to get here. He looks down at his watch, noting that it will at least another ten minutes, before his eyes flicker to a member of the Red Bull staff that’s standing against a wall, but just like he asked, they’ve got a camera in their hands and there’s another one standing leaning against the opposite wall, also with a camera. “Charles. Safe flight?” “Always. What do you have there?” “Ooh,” Daniel chimes in, moving closer and looking at the envelopes in his hands. “What do you have there?” He smirks and he can see Daniel’s grin flatter at the sight for a brief second. “Invitations.” He says, before tossing or passing them around to the different drivers and Christian. He nearly avoids giving Lando one just to be a shit but Toto isn’t there to give it too and it wouldn’t be the same to give it to a different team principal jokingly.
“What is it for?” Carlos asks, eyeing the dark envelope like a lot of the other drivers are, suspiciously. He shrugs, eyebrows raising when he sees the way Lando is feeling the envelope. “Mate, I’m not giving you money.” Lando frowns, before ripping it open. “You’ve got more than enough to spare.” Seeing Lando open his, has the rest of them following suit.
“Dear friends of Max Verstappen,” George reads out and the wording earns a few snorts but he continues. “You are invited to celebrate at the” he pauses squinting at the french on the page. “The Salle des Étoiles” Charles says. “Cheers, mate. You’re invited to celebrate on the 8th of November at 4pm.” His eyebrows furrow. “Celebrate what?” Max watches from the corner of his eye as Christian flips the invitation over and nearly chokes.
“Your engagement?” “Your what?” “Engaged?” “Impossible.” “Lies.”
The whole room is filled with denial and panic and Max just smiles, nearly laughing when Logan thrusts his invitation into James’ hands and asks the team principal if it’s true.
“Max, you aren’t engaged, right? Like that was a fuck up with the print place?” Daniel is nearly pleading, begging, and Max would feel sorry, but for the past ten years he’s been telling people he isn’t single, and sure he’s never shared many details, but they all refused to believe or even consider it. He ignores him, instead looking at the room in large. “You’ll meet her tomorrow. She’s very excited about it.” And as if he planned it, the FIA official walks into the room and no one can question him.
When the meeting is over he manages to avoid all of them except for Christian, who nearly drags him into a private room.
“Is this real?” Max raises an eyebrow at the way he’s waving around the invitation but nods. “Yes.” “You’re really engaged.” “Yes, Christian. I am.” The older man stares at him, not blinking before sighing and running a hand over his face. “Is she pregnant?” “What?” “The girl you’ve been sleeping with recently. Is she pregnant, is that what this is about? Because you don’t have to marry her.” “No one is pregnant.” He reassures, not even able to find any anger for Christian and his assumption. The older man sighs again before sitting down and slumping in the chair.
“You’ve had a girlfriend since you were sixteen.” There’s regret, guilt, and sorrow in his voice. “Yes.” “And I never believed you.” He shrugs, it had hurt yes, but he had always understood Christian’s disbelief in it over anyone else's. “No.” Christian nods. “And I owe you both an apology for that. I should have believed you Max.” “Thank you.” “But really, ten years and you’ve just put a ring on it?” Max groans, rolling his eyes. “You sound like our families.”
They are twenty-four and twenty-six when Max wins his third championship, with the sprint race of all things, and the whole world watches as he’s enveloped by his team before he’s tugging off his helmet and kissing the unfamiliar girl that’s between Christian and Jos, shielded from the rough crowd of Red Bull mechanics, crew, and such. They are twenty-four and twenty-six when everyone finds out that Max had been telling the truth the whole time.
Just about a month later, she eases into the spot between Max and the arm of the couch, eagerly tucking herself closer to him when he drapes an arm over her shoulders.
“You alright?” She nods, “Yeah, Vic and Tom finally left.” Max snorts, “It only took them thirty minutes.” “A record for them.” She grins, before looking at the other people surrounding them, or rather Max. She wasn’t surprised that Max had taken to quickly grabbing a few people and secluding themselves in a corner. She was a bit surprised by the people however.
Charles and Daniel which isn’t too surprising, but there’s the three rookies of the season, Liam, Oscar, and Logan, as well, a little surprising, but nothing compared to the two Mercedes drivers also in front of her.
“You aren’t trying to get Lewis to play paddle are you?” Lewis laughs, shaking his head. “I get enough of competing with him on the track. There’s no convincing me there.” “It’s fun, Lewis.” Charles says. “You should join. George you too. Make it Mercedes versus,” he pauses, eyebrows scrunching together as he tries to think of something to call himself and Max. “Lestappen.” She offers, inching away a bit when Max pinches her side. Charles doesn’t notice the pinch, just smiles at her, before looking at the two British drivers. “Yes! Mercedes versus Lestappen.” His eyebrows then furrow. “What is Lestappen?” “Mate, you don’t want to know.” Liam tells him. Logan chuckles, “I don’t know. Either he finds out now or he finds out when he googles it later.” “Googles it.” George murmurs, mocking the American accent that Logan has. “Bloody Americans.” “Yeah, yeah, tea and crumpets.” Logan waves off Georges mocking with a grin as he looks at Charles. “It’s what people call you and Max, a nickname you could say for when you two are together.” She tells him before Logan can say anything. “Oh,” he frowns, considering. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” “It’s not.” She assures.
Before anyone can say anything else, someone joins their group, eyes focusing on her.
“Dr. Y/L/N, congratulations on your engagement.” She looks at the older man in surprise before quickly standing to shake his hand. “Toto, a pleasure to see you again. And please you don’t need to call me doctor.” Toto smiles, tilting his head forwards, conceding as she sits back down. “Doctor?” Daniel questions, eyes flitting between her and the Mercedes team principal, not sure of what to make of the interaction, though Max seems perfectly fine with it. She presses her lips together and she can feel Max move a bit closer as Toto’s eyes narrow at Max. “Yes.” She tells Daniel and the rest. “I managed to get both of my doctorates last year.” A few jaws drop and Lewis whistles. “And I thought you were just a teacher.” Toto’s looking at her now, with narrowed eyes and she sighs.
It would be just her luck that despite having just met the man once, that one time had resulted in a long conversation after he gave his guest lecture at Harvard.
“You told them you're a teacher.” “I told them I teach.” She corrects. “Let's not make a big deal out of it.” “I want to make a big deal out of it.” Max mumbles and she sends him a pleading look. But Max doesn’t give in, instead he turns to the rest of them. “She’s a professor at Harvard. She got both her doctorates at twenty-three and quickly was signed on as professor.” “So, what you’re saying,” Oscar starts, breaking the silence that has fallen over the group. “Is that she is way too smart for you?” Max laughs, eyes crinkling and body bending forward from the force of it. “Without a doubt, mate. Without a doubt.”
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@cixrosie @darleneslane @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @fanboyluvr @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @benstormy @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @boiohboii @topguncultleader
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ovaryacted · 2 months
Note
please hear me out for this one. subby!re2!leon who refuses to pull away from eating you out like his life depends on it because you just taste too good!
like you've gotten him sooooo deep into subspace you seriously expect him to stop now? you may have just squirted but he's already came 3 times in his briefs and is whining and begging for one more! and comeon. you just gotta let him because you asked for this and all he wants to do is make you feel good 🙁😵‍💫
MDNI/18+. NSFW.
Anon…I’m hearing you out babe. Matter of fact, I’m gonna give you the megaphone so you can scream this across the rooftops. Trust me, I’m part of the pathetic Leon munch brigade and I believe he would eat pussy because he can and because he wants to please you. Whatever makes you feel good, he provides because it makes him feel good knowing he’s the reason why you’re a damn mess.
One of your favorite pastimes involves breaking Leon down into that delicious subspace where he’s not thinking and acting based on instinct. You’d probably order him to get situated between your legs, and before you could tell him, he’s already down on his knees and taking your panties off happily. Depending on your mood and tone of voice, either you’re taking control, or he’s doing it on his own as a way to make you relax.
His nose would be rubbing against you, licking up the length of your body and moaning as your taste filled his mouth. Leon has an oral fixation of his own, and being able to have his tongue on you curbs it for him. You were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, you reminded him of ripe peaches or a sip of sweet tea on a summer day, things that brought him comfort and made him content. With his eyes closed, he holds one of your legs up to give him easier access to your cunt, sucking diligently in the way you liked, the way you taught him.
Your scent alone would be enough to make him slip into subspace, an added yank of his hair would grant you a whimper from him. The only thing on his mind would be to make you fall over the edge more times than you can count, to make sure he got every orgasm he could get from you.
The first time you cum from his mouth, it’s relatively easy, not needing much except flicks of your clit. Your second orgasm takes a bit longer than your first, but it’s stronger and prolonged when Leon uses his fingers to please you. He’s done this so often that he knows exactly what to do, knows when to add another finger and when to curve them into that spot tucked nicely at the roof of your entrance. The way you flex around his fingers and tighten around him is enough to make him cum untouched in his briefs, making a mess and staining the cotton material as he pathetically sought friction with the floor.
He gets more sloppy with his ministrations, sucking at your clit more harshly and finger fucking you until you give him exactly what he’s looking for. Your thighs shake from where they sat on his broad shoulders, crying out as you squirted right in his mouth. Leon is greedy in seeking out your arousal, replacing his fingers with his tongue and humming as he slurped up every drop you gave him.
Leon was lightheaded now, his cock aching as it twitched again in his briefs, threatening to cum another time until you reluctantly pulled his head away from you. He whines, actually whines in defiance and you almost think he’ll throw a tantrum at the mere thought of not being able to have your pussy for the rest of the night. You took in his appearance, plush pink lips wet and swollen from what he’d been doing for the past 30 minutes, his chin and jaw were coated in your slick. What you loved most about these moments was how his eyes were completely glossed over, he wasn’t entirely present anymore, which was what you wanted from the beginning.
“Baby you gotta give me a break”, you said to him exasperatingly, chuckling at the way Leon licked his lips, leaving kisses along your mound absentmindedly.
“Just one more, please. Let me give you one more…”, he looked like he was about to cry if he didn’t give you another orgasm, strong fingers digging into your thighs and pouting at you.
You couldn’t stop him, you didn’t want to, even if you knew one more was never just one more with Leon. So you leaned back and let him suck away at you again and again until your whole body went numb. Even if you were tired, he would offer to fuck you properly, to leave you satisfied and full of him. He’s been good after all, making you feel like you were on cloud nine after a stressful day. Your pussy was his reward after a long day of working, and you didn’t want him to go hungry.
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autumn-hiraeth · 9 months
Note
Can I request Hobie on patrol finding his love beaten bloody in the streets but they don't know he's spiderpunk and in the chaos of him trying to figure out what happened their just "I'll be ok, but could I get an autograph for my boyfriend? You both have the same vibe and I think he'd like it"
ofc anon! 🧃 Hope you like it! <3
Hobie brown x reader
fluff and slight angst. Headcanons
a/n: you can find more here “ Hobie's masterlist”
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You know it was a bad idea to go to that political protest without Hobie. But he didn't show up so you went anyway. Your bad. Three hours later you're wailing because the pigs showed up and they weren't very nice, so that's why your lip is busted, your nose is bleeding and your face is bruised - like the rest of your body-.
But you can't even feel the pain from all the adrenaline running through your veins.
Maybe it's the adrenaline from the fight you got into with a cop or because the amazing Spider-Punk is carrying you while he asks you a lot of questions; " Who did this to you?" " what happened?" “How many fingers can ya' see?”
Hobie wants nothing more than to take you to safety as he holds you in his arms, his heart breaking when he sees you all beaten up. Once again he shouldn't have left you alone. Everything would be easier if you knew his secret identity. Right? He's blaming himself that he doesn't even realize how happy you seem to be in his arms. Your arms around his neck make him feel warm.
"Hey Spiderman" “don't talk luv, you're too weak” you frown, Jesus, he and hobie are so dramatic. "Nah, I'm fine, promise" but he doesn't believe you and you roll your eyes before saying: ""I'll be ok, but could I get an autograph for my boyfriend? You both have the same vibe and I think he'd like it"
Then he stops his walk and looks at you, your pretty face bruised, and his mouth opens in indignation at your request. "You're almost dying in my arms and you're seriously asking me that?!" your grip tightens on his neck feeling him tense.
“hey! I'm not dying, you're being so dramatic!" you sneer and he gasps indignantly " Even that's how you and my boyfriend are similar .. You two are drama queens” you point out, your head is aching, maybe that's why you can't find out on your own that your boyfriend and spider-man are the same person. Hobie laughs "luv, just lie against my chest" he asks before moving on, but you are stubborn and Hobie loves that about you (especially when you and he are in bed, it doesn't matter rn).
“I really need your autograph, Hobie is going to love it” you murmur and Spider-punk smiles.
oh, he can't wait for you to find out his secret identity.
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slvtforfiction · 5 months
Note
Heyo I love your nsfw alphabets sm! Could you do a johnnie guilbert one ?
NSFW Alphabet
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☆ Thank you anon!!
☆ Johnnie Guilbert X Reader
☆ Smut
☆ Masterlist
☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)
☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)
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A = Aftercare
(what they're like after sex)
Johnnie is definitely great at aftercare,will be more tired but would always help you anyways.
Believes it’s the most important part of sex but would prefer to cuddle if he’s honest.
B = Body part
(their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)
His favourite body part on him is his hair,loves that you mess it up regularly during sex,especially if he eats you out and you grab a hold of his hair.
His favourite body part on you is your hands,will not elaborate.
C = Cum
(anything to do with cum, basically)
Prefers to cum inside of you,doesn’t mind to make a mess but would prefer not to because he doesn’t want to bother either of you with the task of cleaning it up.
D = Dirty secret
(pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Jacks off to you pretty often because he’s too shy to tell you that’s he’s horny.
E = Experience
(how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)
He’s not experienced at all and I wouldn’t be surprised if you were his first time.
Would know what he’s doing though, it’s long and if he knows how to use it iykyk.
F = Favorite position
(this goes without saying)
Definitely likes you to ride him,I feel like he’s a switch and would love cowgirl but if he’s being dominant he would probably like basic missionary.
G = Goofy
(are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
I feel like he’s more humorous during the moment but just enough to not ruin the moment.
I feel like theirs moments when he’s serious but would mainly be humorous and funny.
H = Hair
(how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
I feel like he does shave but doesn’t care if you shave or not,even if he doesn’t have time to shave he will trim himself up to look more tidy.
I = Intimacy
(how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He tries to be as romantic as he can be,he doesn’t want you to think it’s just a quick fuck to him and would try to be as romantic as possible.
J = Jack off
(masturbation headcanon)
Masturbates fairly often (2-3 times a week) usually because he’s too shy to tell you he has a hard on.
K = Kink
(one or more of their kinks)
Praise- Loves being told he’s a pretty boy and especially any compliment with ‘my’ infront of it.
Switch- he’s definitely a switch but if your in a bad mood? Massive dom
Biting- Loves to be bitten and loves biting you,just likes the marks and reminders that your his and he’s yours.
L = Location
(favorite places to do the do)
He’s basic and he knows it but he just likes the bed because it’s a lot easier and he’s scared of hurting you anywhere else :( <3
М = Motivation
(what turns them on, gets them going)
He can be turned on by the easiest thing. Wearing a skirt that’s a little too short? Bed. Neck kisses? Bed.
N = No
(something they wouldn't do, turn offs)
He wouldn’t hurt you in anyway at all,wouldn’t spank you etc.
I feel like small things like biting are a massive turn on for him though.
O = Oral
(preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He prefers receiving if he’s honest and loves to face fuck you. He would still definitely give you head because he loves his head between your thighs but would definitely prefer to see your head between his thighs instead.
P = Pace
(are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
He doesn’t like to go rough in particular,he’s more slow and sensual for the most part but would definitely be rough if you wanted.
Q = Quickie
(their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
He doesn’t particularly like quickies but isn’t entirely against them.
R = Risk
(are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
This man lives for the adrenaline of being caught,if there’s even the smallest chance of being caught he will fuck you rough and hard.
S = Stamina
(how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Can go for about 2 rounds before needing to stop and have a break,will make sure you get off though and will give you an ungodly amount of head if your not satisfied.
T = Toys
(do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He has toys but doesn’t really use them on himself instead he mainly uses them on his partner.
U = Unfair
(how much they like to tease)
I don’t think he would tease quite a lot but I definitely think he would tease you occasionally and especially when he’s needy but you guys are with friends.
V = Volume
(how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He’s not loud but he’s not quiet either,he’ll occasionally moan (especially if he’s subbing) though but would make sure to hear every word to come out of your mouth.
W = Wild card
(a random headcanon for the character)
He loves to kneel infront of you and give you everything you’ve wanted (head) and honestly he gives the best head.
X = X-ray
(let's see what's going on under those clothes)
5inches,6 when he’s hard and he knows how to use it better than anyone.
Y = Yearning
(how high is their sex drive?)
His sex drive is pretty normal,about 2-3 times a week.
Z = Zzz
(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He doesn’t fall asleep after,would prefer to talk about how you day was and just cuddle with you.
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paper-mario-wiki · 6 months
Note
and also if ssniperwolf doxxing is such a Bad Thing. Why hasnt there been a police report about it? Jacksfilms is a white man who owns a house, its not like the police arent gonna believe him.
but i guess its easier to just shit on women the moment they do something bad. 🤷‍♀️
got this and one other ask from this person, and im definitely not posting all that shit.
im a pretty firm believer in the "just let girls live" philosophy, but nah sssniperwolf is a bad person who is actively causing harm. sssniperwolf is SIGNIFICANTLY larger than jacksfilms, each of her daily uploads getting millions of views. YouTube constantly promotes her channel on twitter because she makes them a shitton of money, and her content is made ENTIRELY of stolen videos. She sometimes doesn't react, she just steals content. She refuses to even give a single piece of credit. It's not that she's a reaction channel, it's that she is unethical and getting rich anyway.
And Jacksfilms FAMOUSLY has been ripping on reaction channels since the fucking RayWilliamJohnson days. This is like, one of his things. He is part of OLD YouTube, and is a huge proponent of defending the rights of small creators and encouraging original content. The channel he has about this, jjjacksfilms, credits every creator they can find that she doesnt, and also gets in touch with some of the creators, all of which have reported never being contacted before her stealing their videos.
Sssniperwolf, despite being a woman, is fallible. Don't come into my askbox defending her from this, frankly, extremely manageable backlash she is getting. It started with asking her to simply look at the names of the people whose videos she was stealing and putting them in her video. Crediting them. And she has not only been aware of this the entire time, but she's been actively and publicly mocking Jack. It is getting out of hand because she STILL refuses to do this extremely simple, reasonable thing. Something that, one might even say, she is obligated to do.
Also, doxxing is a bad thing even if it isn't illegal (which it is). It's a threat. Showing someones home online is a deliberate tactic to make someone feel as though they are vulnerable and powerless. What about that is not a Bad Thing? Dunce.
I'm sorry to tell you this anon. But women are capable of being bad people too.
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Note
Can I request some Bachelor/Bachelorett's of your choice asking the farmer to be their partner at the flower dance? It'd be cute if they could ask us instead of the farmer always taking the initiative
Bachelors/ettes of my choice? Hmm, since it's my choice here, I've chosen.... All SDV marriage candidate :D
Thanks for the ask, dear anon! Enjoy! 🫰💕
_________________________________________
SDV bachelors/ettes asking Farmer to be their dance partner at the Flower Dance:
SDV bachelors:
Alex:
Alex tries to make Farmer's question sound casual.
Something like, "Hey, I'd like to ask you to be my dance partner, but if you say no, that's okay, it won't hurt me in any way."
(He can't fool himself, It will make him sad if Farmer says no).
So the athlete almost jumped up on the spot with joy when Farmer agreed. But he tried to play it cool.
"So, shall we go and take our place on the dance floor?"
Alex was so happy, and started to get a little nervous not to mess it up.
Elliott:
"Farmer, my friend! I've been preparing for this celebration for a couple of days now, and I would be immensely happy if you would honoring me of agreeing to be my dance partner."
Elliott hopes the invitation wasn't too pompous. Otherwise, the writer was already worried he'd ruined everything.
Maybe Farmer already had a partner and Elliott with his speech made them feel pressured and awkward?
But Farmer's smile and nod of agreement said otherwise.
"Really? Oh, delightful! Then let's go rehearse our moves before the festival starts." Words can't describe how happy Elliott is.
Sebastian:
Because Sebastian doesn't really like dancing in public, asking someone to dance is a big step for him.
No, for real. Farmer must be a very dear friend to him (or maybe something more), if the local emo stepped out of his comfort zone to ask them to dance.
And his efforts paid off - Farmer agreed without delay.
Now, even the spring sun and heat will not spoil Sebby's mood.
Sam and Abigail start teasing Sebastian a little bit (affectionate) that he'll now have a silly smile on his face all day long.
Sam:
Sam is simply the epitome of a golden retriever who can get anything he wants with his charm alone. (Sam doesn't realise it himself, but still).
And even though he's a little nervous, it doesn't hurt his charm at all.
"Hey, Farmer. I've been thinking... Would you be interested in becoming my dance partner? If you don't mind."
Look at his puppy dog eyes, warm smile and slightly pink cheeks. How could you say no to him?
Here, Farmer didn't refuse either.
"Super! Thanks a lot! Let's take our positions then, we're about to dance!"
Harvey:
It took Harvey about fifteen or twenty minutes to gather the will to dare to ask Farmer to dance.
It seemed like an easy task for a doctor, but his throat was immediately dry and his heart was pounding frantically in his chest.
"Farmer, I was wondering if you'd like-" "To dance with you? Sure thing, Harvey!"
Well, that was easier than he thought. And why was Harvey getting worried over nothing?
Now, the only thing left for him to do was to wait for the dance to start and hope Harvey didn't step on Farmer's foot out of excitement.
Shane:
To be honest, Shane didn't dare ask Farmer for fear of rejection.
But eventually Jas intervened, telling Farmer that "uncle Shane wants to talk to you" ("Jas!").
Well, since the conversation is already inevitable, Shane has to ask them.
"Do you want to be my dance partner?" "Of course, Shane, I'd love to!"
The heck, what... Why was it so easy?
Now they're both dancing, he can't believe it! Shane is pleased.
(In the background, Jas smiles at her uncle and Farmer as they both walk to the dance floor).
SDV bachelorettes:
Leah:
Probably, of all the candidates present, Leah is the calmest. Why make something up when you can just ask them straight out?
"Hey, Farmer. If you don't have a dance partner, we can dance together."
The artist was quite okay to take no for an answer.
Still, glad that Farmer agreed to her request.
"Cool. I'll get us a good spot so we don't bake directly in the sun while dancing."
Honesty and calmness are key to her success.
Penny:
Yoba, give her strength and courage...
Penny was embarrassed to even look in Farmer's direction, let alone start a conversation with them.
Someone she knows should help nudge her to ask Farmer (Emily or Maru).
The young teacher was so nervous, she didn't even notice that Farmer smilingly agreed to her offer to be a dance partner.
Wait, what? She heard everything right? They said yes?
Oh well... then Penny went to get prepared (get prepared mentally not to faint from happiness).
Abigail:
"Ugh, stupid Flower dance... Mum made me wear this dumb dress again..." *notices Farmer* "Hey, Farmer~ Do you have a dance partner already?"
Abigail isn't really shy, to be honest.
Won't ask Farmer directly about dancing, but her hints are impossible not to recognise.
She was terribly relieved that Farmer agreed and immediately grabbed their hand, dragging them towards the dance floor.
Abby hopes her mother wouldn't think that she liked dancing now, or Caroline would want to take her to aerobics later.
Maru:
Maru was still practising her speech to Farmer from a day ago. She was really hoping that they would agree to dance with her at the festival.
That doesn't change the fact that even though she was prepared, Maru was a little nervous for fear of rejection.
Still, until you ask them, you won't know, right?
When Farmer approached her on their own, Maru finally asked them.
The young inventor's fears were in vain: the Farmer said yes immediately!
Oh, she couldn't wait to take her place to dance with Farmer!
Emily:
Emily is just overjoyed! A beautiful day, a beautiful atmosphere, a beautiful forest... The spirits are favouring them today.
Oh, there's the Farmer! She immediately ran up to them to ask them to dance.
The blue-haired girl was too excited to even think about the fact that Farmer might refuse her....
But that wouldn't happen, because Farmer agreed without hesitation!
Emily, even more overjoyed, immediately took them to the dance floor, letting them rehearse the dance together before festival starts.
Haley:
"Farmer. I'm you want, I might dance with you~"
Haley doesn't know if her charm will work, since last year she refused to dance with them. Yeah, awkward...
So she won't be surprised if they turn her down. But will be surprised when Farmer immediately agrees.
"Great! Then we need to rehearse to make everything perfect. I've already been Flowers Queen for a few years, I don't want to give up the title."
Haley doesn't care about the title anymore, she's dancing with Farmer! Hee hee~
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Text
Interlocked
Anon requests:
Good luck with exams!!! Friends to lovers with Timmy or exes to lovers again. Sharing body heat in a cabin after being caught in a storm.
Wordcount: 2.3K+
Masterlist
Description: Going on a ski trip with your ex isn't weird. Not when you and Timmy are still incredibly close. And it is definitely not weird to get creative to keep from freezing to death.
A/N: Thank you for the well wishes on my exams. And for the request. I went back and forth with this for a few days. The faking conversation is heavily inspired by Elaine and Jerry from Seinfeld. And a conversation they had about the same topic, which led me to make them exes in this fic.
Warning: Exes to lovers. Smut, fluff.slight breeding kink if you squint.
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“Wait wait wait,” Timmy said glancing over at you in shock. “You faked with me?” He asked in disbelief.
You pressed your lips together in a thin line to hide your smile. “Yup,” you said, bobbing your head.
“No. You faked with me?” He couldn’t believe it.
You laughed. “Yes. I faked it with you.”
“Really?”
“Really,” you laughed picking up your hot chocolate and taking a sip trying not to appear smug.
Your friends sitting across the table were all watching you two like you were the most interesting things in the world. You, Timmy, and a few of your friends had an annual Ski trip in the French Alps.  It was a long journey to your cabins and after a day of skiing, you were all having dinner and hot drinks at a diner.
Somehow the conversation got on the topic of people faking it in bed. With the men arguing that it is easier for women to fake it and Timmy proudly stating that no one has ever faked it with him. Until you had to interject with a well…
“We dated for two years. Did you... Did you fake it all the time?” He asked.
“No, of course not. If I was faking all the time, we wouldn’t have dated for 2 years.” Your two-year relationship was lovely. You loved Timmy and even talked about marriage and were briefly engaged. Until your loving relationship sort of started to feel like a chore.
You weren’t meeting up, or having sex because it felt like you needed to and not that you wanted to. You could feel yourself falling out of love and each day desperate to hold onto it. Hold on to each other. It got to the point where you were starting to resent him. That’s when you two sat down, had a long conversation, and called it quits.
You two still remained close friends. And while it was awkward for a while, you both had moved on and dated other people since then. Timmy only recently got out of a year-long relationship with a model, and you’ve been single for 6 months because your boyfriend couldn’t handle you still close friend with an ex.
“It was just towards the end of our relationship, right?” He asked, his eyes burning a hole in the side of your face.
“Sure, let’s go with that,” you chuckled.
He scoffed shaking his head and looking away. “You faked it. I can’t believe it. The whole shebang. The moaning, panting, tightening? All fake?”
“You weren't the only actor in our relationship, huh?” You teased.
Timmy's cheeks lit up and he grabbed his drink, grumbling to himself. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his forearm.
“If it makes you feel better, you are also the only guy I didn’t have to fake it with.” He glanced over at you.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay. That makes me feel a bit better.” Timmy said sitting up straight.
You couldn’t help but laugh at his happiness. You truly did love him. Even after the breakup and the insanity, he brought to your life sometimes. “Hopefully, you’ve gotten better since we last slept together.” You added to just tease him more.
His eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know if you could tell the difference?” You counted, leaning closer to him. So close that his breath hit your face.
“Okay, you two. Thanks for the show, but keep it PG,” one of your friends teased. You both rolled your eyes and moved away from each other and finished your food.
“You guys are just jealous of our friendship,” Timmy said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.
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After eating you all climbed back into the cars and made your way back to the cabins you all rented.
“Okay, we are staying two to a cabin. Couples have a cabin to themselves and the rest of us are playing a game to see who stays with who.” You said as you all stood in the snow.
“What are we playing this year? Last year was a snowball fight with we all know you cheated at,” Timmy pointed out.
“Says the man that didn’t play. You had a girlfriend remember?” Timmy shrugged and snuggled closer into his coat.
“We will play rock, paper, scissors. It’s too cold and too late to do anything else.”
Everyone nodded and gathered around to play. You were all shivering and were ready to just go to bed. After a few rounds, everyone was paired up leaving you to room with Timmy. Grabbing your bags, you both said goodnight to the rest of your friends and walked into the cabin.
“Holy shit it’s cold in here,” you complained dropping your bags and going to the fireplace.
“How are we looking on wood?” He asked coming up behind you.
You sighed. “We should have come to the cabins earlier and made sure they were fully stocked with Wood. We have a few logs. Hopefully, it will make it through the night,” you said tossing a few into the fireplace and then grabbing a match.
“We will get some first thing in the morning. Don’t worry. The cabin has heating, and I brought extra blankets. I know you are always cold,” he stated.
Once the fire was going you stood up. “You didn’t know we were room together,” you commented.
“Yeah, but I heard last year you were cold in your cabin.”
You smiled. “Thanks, Timmy. You can take the bigger bedroom. I know that’s what you are after.”
Timmy playfully rolled his eyes. “You caught me. And thanks,” he said picking up his bag and dashing to the biggest room.  You laughed shaking your head then grabbed your own bag and headed to your room. "See you in the morning," he shouted
"Good night," you shouted back.
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You woke around 2 am freezing. Your teeth were chattering, and you felt like you were freezing from the inside out. Slowly, wrapping a blanket around your shoulder you made your way to the main room to see Timmy standing in front of the thermostat.
You stepped on a creaking floorboard, and he looked over at you. “Shit. Are you cold?” He said running over to your side and wrapping his blanket around you and rubbing your shoulders.
You nodded leaning into him. “What is the temperature on?”
He frowned. “The power is out.”
“What?” You asked pulling back to look at him. “What’s going on.”
“Turns out while we slept there was a small avalanche. We are snowed in.”
“Fucking hell? Really?” You said moving out of his arms and walking over to the window and seeing the snow piled up outside.
“Don’t panic, I talked to someone at the lodge, and they will be sending someone over as soon as they can. They are sending people out to the furthest cabins first, but it has to be after the storm is over.
“Have you talked to everyone else? Are they okay?” You asked. Moving to the fireplace and sitting down. You shivered and Timmy quickly moved to your side.
“No. I lost service after that, but I am sure they are fine. We are the ones closest to the mountain. We’ve been snowed in before it won’t be so bad,” he assured you.
“We had more firewood then.” You reminded him.
Wrapping his arms around you Timmy pulled you close to him and wrapped the two blankets around you both. “I got you, don’t worry,” he said rubbing your arms and back. You shudder and lean closer to him, snuggling into his arms.
You two sat in silence for a while and watched the fire. You were still cold but were warmer now that you were in his arms. For a moment, you thought you would be able to fall asleep and then the fire went out.
“Shit,” Timmy said grabbing up and trying to relight the fire. He tried over and over and you whimpered slightly. And Timmy glanced back at you before trying again. He finally got a small spark and blew softly on the fire and tossed in the last firewood.
He moved back to you and pulled you into his lap. “Mon Amour. I got you. I got you,” he repeated. You shook and shivered against his chest and his hold tightened on you. Neither of you even noticed the term of endearment slipping.
After a few minutes of you shaking, Timmy shook his head. “Okay, undress.” He said. “I know it might be weird, but you’re cold and I’m cold. Body heat will help.”
You flushed but Timmy didn’t notice as he started to pull his own clothes off. It’s been over 3 years since you saw him completely naked, and you couldn’t help but think about all the times his body was pressed against yours.
“You’re staring. Thinking about when you faked it?” He teased looking you in the eye as his hands lingered on his boxes. “Shall I remove these too?”
“Shut up,” you said standing and removing your clothes. You stared Timmy in the eyes as you took off your bra and tossed it at him. His eyes widened and he shamelessly started at your chest.
“You know,” he said, moving closer. “Skin-to-skin is good for body heat. But there is another way, skin to skin, that will also warm us up,” his hands rested on your waist and his eyes met yours.
They were half-closed and filled with lush and desire. You shivered this time but not from the cold. “Timmy… is that really a good idea,” you said but moved closer to him pressing your chest together.
“Breaking up wasn’t a good idea,” he said shocking you.
“You couldn’t tell me that 3 years ago?” You teased.
“You couldn’t tell me you were faking back them?” He shot back.
Chuckling you grabbed the back of his head and pulled his face closer to yours. “Show me you’ve gotten better” Your lips ghosted over Timmy’s.
Timmy's lips came crashing down on yours and he kissed you like a man starving. His tongue forced its way into your mouth and his hand between your already slick thighs. You moaned letting him guide you both to the ground. You, on your back with him hovering over you.
“I missed you,” he said softly pulling back from your lips.
“I missed you,” you replied, pushing his boxes off his body. Timmy did the same with your underwear and you laid there bare in front of each other for the first time in years.
“Let me warm you up. Let me take care of you,” he begged. You spread your legs more kissing his lips.
“Please Timmy,” you said into his mouth. Timmy grabbed his cock and pressed it against your dripping entrance. He pulled back to watch his cock enter you slowly. You both moaned. Timmy pushed in more until his hips were flushed against yours.
Timmy bit your collarbone and you moaned louder. “I forgot how tight you are,” he said. “Feels like when we first slept together.”
You whined. You two were each other first. You pulled his hair and met his lips in a tender kiss. Timmy started to move them. Pulling his cock almost completely out of you before slamming back into you.
His hands reached for yours and grasped them tightly as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He was slow as he thrust in and out of you with a steady rhythm. Your bodies were pressed together and the heat between you two warmed you both to your cores.
Timmy’s moans and your little gasp each time he pressed against your sweet spot filled the cabin. Your hands stayed tightly together. You tilted your hips and his cock slide deeper inside of you. 
“Fuck, I’m going to fucking blow my load,” He growled squeezing your hands as he rocked his hips faster. You moaned tightening around his cock.
“Make me cum, Timmy. Harder.” You groaned. Closing your eyes, you pressed your chest against his. Timmy let go of one of your hips and started fucking into you faster and harder.
Your skin flushed and you both grew sweaty, and you lost yourself in each other. His fast pace had your eyes rolling in the back of your head as you came around your cock. But Timmy didn’t stop. Instead, his fingers moved further down and joined his cock inside of you.
You mewl at the stretch and your squirted all over his cock. His name leaving your mouth like a prayer. Timmy smirked and looked down at his cock fucking your cunt. “Squirting? I don’t think you could fake that.”
You laughed slightly, shaking in his hold. “Just cum in me, please. I need it.”
“Yeah, need my cum. Fuck. Yeah, I’ll come inside of you. Fucking make a mess inside of you. Maybe fuck a baby inside of you. Do you want that? Want my baby inside of you?” His words had you tightening around his cock and Timmy cursed before coming.
You flipped him over, riding his cock as he came. You pinned his hands above his head, and you rotate your hips fucking his cum inside of you. You were close to a second orgasm, and you looked down at Timmy to see him staring at you as if you were a goddess.
“I love you.” He softly.
Your hips paused and you stared at him. “Still?” You asked leaning closer.
“I never stopped. I wanted you back the moment we broke up. I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” you kissed him and started moving your hips again. Your thighs trembled and you rode him faster, biting his lower lip and this time exploring his mouth with your tongue. Timmy moaned into your mouth and thrust upwards into you.
You came together moaning into each other mouth, your hands still interlocked. You slowly stopped moving your hips and broke the kiss lying on his chest. You both were breathing heavily. You shivered as the cold registered again and Timmy was quick to wrap one of the blankets around you both.
“I meant what I said,” he said, kissing the top of your head.
“I did too.”
“So can we give us another try?” He asked hopefully.
You nodded, kissing his chest. “I would like nothing more.”
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Taglist.
@wandasforyou
@mel-vaz
@gatoenlaciudad
@iloveneilperry
@s-we-e-t-t-ea
@robertpattins0nswh0re
@valencia-rou
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angelshadowsinger · 11 months
Note
oh my fucking god your work is incredible! holy literal shit balls i have never felt that entranced by a fanfiction until reading yours. thank u thank u thank u your azriel is PERFECT.
also i’m totally gonna need your thoughts on azriel sharing with his shadows 👀
re: ummmmmmm call me parmesan bc u got me CHEESIN!?!?!! that is literally sO sweet of you to say, i am touched 🥺 as a fic author you always worry if you’re making the character OOC and, it just makes me so happy to hear your praise!! thank you so much anon~ ♥︎ This HC is a bit more than what you’ve asked for, but it does includes it, so pls enjoy!
Azriel’s Shadows Around his Mate Headcanons
・ ゜゜・.。 ・ ゜゜・.。・゚゚・.。 ・ ゜゜・.。・゚゚・
ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.
・ ゜゜・.。 ・ ゜゜・.。・゚゚・.。 ・ ゜゜・.。・゚゚・
In my eyes, Azriel’s shadows are a part of him. There hasn’t been much insight that Maas has given us with shadowsingers and their capabilities in general, but this is what I choose to believe~
Since Azriel’s shadows were perhaps the first of his powers, and the first entity to treat him with some kindness/obedience, I think he would be very in tune with them and he himself would consider them a part of him. He has had over 500 years to develop his relationship with them and therefore, I believe once he found his mate, his shadows would be just as captivated with her as he himself.
Obviously, Azriel is a total simp for his girl (but that’s another hc in its own), so that means his shadows are too. Honestly, it could be viewed as annoying how often at least a few of his shadows are constantly at your side. He’s used to having them totally loyal to him, so now that he has to share them with you… well, it’s not really actually that cumbersome, because he knows that even when you two are apart, he’ll be sure to know if you need him/his help. Though he has a couple less to send out on his spymaster business, technically, the ones with you are acting as his spies anyway. Just, with a far more interesting and important subject.
His shadows do a variety of things for you, making your everyday life easier and more pleasant. Just as their master, the shadows like to give you princess treatment.
For example, they go out of their way to help you with mundane things. If you’re making dinner and a tomato rolls off the cutting board, they’re pushing it back to you. When you’re putting on a dress, they’re helping you with the zip and clasp. If you’re writing something and your pen runs out of ink, somehow they’ve procured a new one that matches your exact preferences.
Both Az and his shadows notice the small things. They take notes of your likes and dislikes, what makes you giggle, cry, or provides you comfort.
At times when he’s away for a long while, and you’re missing him, they will deliver small gifts to you. A couple flowers tied with twine, native to the strange lands he’s currently working in. A special spice he knows you love to use in the foods you share with him. An especially-delicious pastry made with your favorite fruit/flavor. Though the shadows themselves do not find you gifts, they are happy to deliver whatever Az requests they send.
They also will take anything you wish to send him. Whether he’s in another country, or simply training at the House of Wind with his brothers, his shadows will deliver your every gift. Most of the time it’s little sweets or a lunch you’ve packed. Sometimes when you’re feeling cheekier, a receipt from the lingerie store informing him of your latest purchase. If you’re really feeling brazen, sometimes the panties themselves. His shadows are perhaps happiest to carry those items, either to get into contact with them or to see their master’s red cheeks as he shoves them out of his brothers’ view.
His shadows are your caretaker when he is not with you. When you’ve fallen asleep staying up for your mate’s return from yet another mission, his shadows will tuck you under your favorite blanket, taking off your reading glasses and ensuring your spot in the open book on your lap is not lost. Az nearly melts when he comes back to the sight, you dead asleep on the couch in front of the blazing hearth, his shadows perched dutifully there, guarding you.
However, they grow attached to you and even when he is with you, they will not leave you alone unless he commands them.
Azriel likes to take full advantage of his time alone with you. There is nothing he finds more comfort and pleasure in than being in your embrace. Sometimes that’s hard to do, though, when his shadows steal away your attention, or beat him to helping you with the zip of your dress.
It’s a very endearing sight to see him get jealous of his own shadows. He’d have a scowl on his face as he glared at them, silently ordering them to leave your side so he could have you all to himself. The shadows would melt onto the floor, gloomy in a way, whisper once more around your ankle before they go off to fulfill their master’s instruction.
Most of the time, you manage to guilt your mate into letting a few of them come back. And as soon as he calls them, they appear and shoot right for you. Az rolls his eyes but of course he understands. How could they not fall in love with you?
Azriel is actually very good with sharing. This usually applies to you when his shadows are involved, though sometimes he just needs to be alone with you. Whether it’s to have his way with you or just to snuggle up and bask in his mate’s presence. When he needs time like that, he will have his shadows guard your quarters and they will do so without question— fiercely protecting the only two beings they care for.
~spicy hc’s begin ;)~
Most of the time, Azriel will take the lead in pleasuring you— as he should, as your mate— but he’s likely to let his shadows watch or join his efforts if they play a supporting role.
For example, his favorite thing is to be between your legs, feasting on your sweet cunt and making sure you know you are his, while his shadows hold you down so you can’t move an inch. This way, you have to take the pleasure in the exact way he desires, unable to greedily chase your high or buck your hips or push him away.
Usually he plays with you for a while like this, teasing you and edging you a handful of times before he’s ruthless, unstopping even after you’ve come. He does cease his ravishing after you’ve come again, only to ensure he doesn’t overstimulate you before he’s had a chance to fuck you like you both want.
His shadows are happy to shackle you and render you helpless to his onslaught of pleasure; they love hearing your wanton cries and will dry away any tears of pleasure that escape with a cool, ghostly caress.
Speaking of their caress, one of his favorite uses for them is to soothe your skin when he’s done marking it up. Meaning, after every spank or particularly hard bite, the shadows will rove over the irritated flesh, kissing you with their cooling tendrils.
Since the shadows are slightly cold, sending them to curl around your nipples while he fucks you from behind is also another favorite. The temperature-play heightens everything— especially when they move down your curves to tease at your clit or your ass, depending on your preference…
Sometimes he lets them fuck you as part of your foreplay— usually while you’re sucking his cock. He just loves the surprise that flickers in your eyes when you’re choking on the length of him deep in your throat, how your lashes flutter when that familiar cool touch tickles your inner thighs and pushes your wet panties aside, how your moan feels vibrating around him when they thrust inside of you. He savors how your rhythm gets thrown, how you struggle to continue when his shadows are running over every sensitive crevice of your most intimate parts.
On rarer occasions, Azriel will let the shadows have their way with you. He’d sit back in a comfortable, wing-friendly armchair, darkened hazel eyes drinking in every movement before him— you with your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, the darkness holding your legs spread and fondling every inch of you— cupping your tender breasts, tweaking those pert, hard nipples… stroking your face, your hair, your hips and thighs… flowing over your puffy clit, slipping between your dripping folds and even wandering inside of you, perhaps just as deep as Azriel’s cock could reach. He would jerk his leaking shaft at the sight before him, lip held prisoner in his feral snarl. He wouldn’t be able to last very long, the sight before him too much for him to keep his composure.
When you’re both spent and panting for breath, the shadows will run up and down your moistened back, taking away the heat that lingers there and helping to lull you to sleep.
Only when you’re unconscious do they return to Azriel, curling around his shoulders in thanks. They know they are lucky to be the sole creature/presence with which he shares his mate, and any time spent with you is valued payment for the many services they provide their master with.
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arieswritez · 5 months
Text
golden boy
golden boy | yandere stepbrother!mark grayson x afab!reader
cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!! pseudo-incest, panty thief!mark, roofies, victim blaming, non-con video taping, voyeurism, rape, reader's anatomy is sexualized, forced breeding, time skip (mark is an adult & nolan never killed the guardians), mark is a sicko you've been warned
about; life was easier when mark was an only child. he wishes it would've stayed that way. (1.9k words)
a/n; an anon asked about a platonic yan sibling duo so i raise you: big pervy step bro who hates your guts but also wants to rearrange them
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step brother mark who's used to being the light and joy of the grayson home. as the only child, he's spoiled beyond belief. he's spunky and cute and the graysons love him to death, constantly showering him with love and adoration.
step brother mark who gets a new sibling after villains make you an orphan. nolan finds you in the ruins and it's like he's on auto-pilot: carrying you to that secret hospital and handing you off to the doctors that rush to his aid. . but not before your tiny fist closes in his suit.
as he watches you being taken away, barely alive, something inside his chest pangs.
debbie notices nolan acting strange. he's restless and he's late for dinner, more so than usual. something's very clearly wrong. and it's not like her to grow suspicious of nolan but she does.
nolan's never given her a reason to believe his head may have been turned but for some reason, she starts to believe there might be someone else.
only to find he's been visiting you at the hospital, staying at your bedside for hours on end as you recover. you're in bad shape. doctors aren't sure how you survived. . if you even will. debbie's never seen nolan so torn over a survivor before. he's seen many things: deaths, disasters, you name it. yet, you're who's causing the sleepless nights.
of course, debbie has a kind heart and, soon, it's not just nolan who's worried. the graysons keep tabs on you. and when you come to, they’re the first thing you see.
you look confused, scared, but as nolan soothes you, you offer a meek smile and nolan finds himself feeling that same giddiness he felt when he first saw a tiny mark cradled in debbie's arms.
the graysons become your legal guardians and, suddenly, mark isn't the golden boy anymore.
you take up so much of their attention. now, christmases and birthdays all revolve around you. suddenly, marks good grades and the fact he hit a home run isn't all that impressive. mark's late for his baseball practice and games more times than he can count. . yet they never miss your dance recitals.
you got an A in an absurdly easy class and that was a cause for celebration. in the meantime, mark won a spelling bee & all he got was a 'good job'.
they treat you like you're made of glass, like you'll shatter into a million tiny pieces the second someone so much as looks at you the wrong way. mark still remembers being reprimanded whenever he said the smallest things to you. he doesn't think he's ever lived down that one orphanage joke that made you bawl. god, he was just kidding. . its not his fault you're sensitive.
soon, you're calling his parents 'mom and dad'. and worse of all, they reiterate the fact that you should be calling mark your 'big brother'.
fucking fantastic.
you are everything to them while mark is pushed aside. and it only worsens the older the two of you get. mark gets his powers - there's literally nothing more impressive than that - yet he still has to do a million and one things in order to outshine you. nothing ever works. and despite the fact that mark is - quite literally - saving lives. . your stupid birthday is still more important.
you are the light of their lives and mark bitterly remembers when they used to look at him that way, too.
you are perfect in their eyes. just like he once was.
and mark wishes you would've died in that accident, just like your parent(s).
as you start to develop a sense of self, mark gets into the habit of stealing your clothes. it's the only thing you seem to care about: the way you present yourself to the world.
they're small things at first. like a single shoe when his parents had bought you new ones yet refused to get him the ones he wanted. he'll admit it, it was petty and spiteful. but you were distressed and the graysons seemed upset you'd already misplaced your brand new - expensive - shoes.
at first, he was content with telling himself that what he was doing was solely to spite you. but that was a lie. when his kleptomania made him steal one of your shirts. . it wasn't spite that made him press the material to his nose and pump his cock until he came. no, it wasn't just spite.
all your simpering and whining, following him around like some lost puppy, that one time you asked him why he hated you so much. . it made him feel more than just hate.
he didn't know what to do with you then.
so, at first, he settled with stealing your clothes.
a couple more shirts.
a pair of shorts.
knee-highs or your favorite tights.
and finally, a pair of panties.
his favorite are a lacy pair. sheer and tiny, he recalls lifting them out of your drawer with a finger. . and thinking, seriously? what're these even meant to cover?
he's extremely sure you aren't supposed to have these~
mark is content with secretly stealing your things. he doesn't get in trouble for being mean to you anymore.
you don't think he hates you.
it's a win-win situation, really.
and mark would've been happy - he would've been fine - with the little game he's been playing. soon, the two of you would part ways for college and he'd forget all about you.
he'd forget the way you'd foolishly walk to your room in only a towel when you knew the two of you were home alone.
he'd forget the way you looked when you changed out of clothing, you never truly believed in fully closing the door, did you?
he'd forget the way your moans sounded, when you touched yourself at night, thinking everyone else was asleep. he'd forget the way he'd concentrate on hearing your pretty sounds - and it's not like he'd have to try hard, another perk of having powers.
he'd forget about how he could almost envision you: humping your fingers and biting at your lip, desperately trying to get yourself off. it was like he was in the room with you. . you were so wet he could hear the wet clicks of your cunt.
he'd forget all about you.
you, you, you.
he was sure of it.
but if it's one thing about you is that you could never just let things be.
you could never just let the graysons be a normal, happy family.
and you could never just let mark forget about you.
because the first time his parents say no to you - the very first fucking time - you don't listen.
you're just not used to it.
that stupid party you weren't supposed to go to.
that stupid party mark sneaks off to, too.
and when you see him there, you're surprised.
he pretends to be, too.
because it's not fair if only one of you was forbidden to go. no, you had to fuck it up for the both of them.
it's a good thing you're so spoiled, though. and it's even better that mark eavesdropped on the conversation you had with your friend, the one in which you planned to sneak out.
you're so fucking naive. so stupid.
you think the two of you are finally getting along when he gets you a drink and whispers, don't worry, i won't tell if you don't. and you laugh and wink at him like you'll keep his secret, drinking from whatever concoction he's prepared for you.
you were too young when your parent(s) passed and the graysons never seemed to sit you down for the talk. . or maybe they did and you were just too stupid to understand why you should never accept an open drink.
it's easy to blame it on you being a lightweight. the way you sway and slur your words, the way you stumble into him, the way your body overheats.
you've had too much to drink. you're not used to it, is all. he'll take care of you, don't you worry, big brother always does.
first, he's got to lay you down, you poor thing.
he doesn't want you to hurt your pretty little head by falling!
so, he lays you down in the empty room of the house as the party continues downstairs. as you fall to the bed in a heap, you swear you can see the throbbing beat of the music, now muffled behind the closed door.
in the dark room, the moonlight leaking through the pale blue blinds look like drunken undulations, wavering like heat shimmers, yet you can't keep your eyes open long enough to ogle at them. your body doesn't feel like your own, but you're not as nervous as you should be.
mark yanks his shirt off over his head - practiced, ready - and stalks over to your semi-limp body that's nearly hanging off the bed.
it's not hard to undress you, considering you're dressed like some cheap slut. and, honestly, if it wasn't mark that night, he's sure it would've been another dude at the party. the way you're such a fucking tease, he doesn't think anyone would be able to keep their hands off of you for long.
so, really, it's only fair your older brother is the one to get his hands on the goods, first. afterall, he was there to watch them grow.
the little camcorder he took from his parents - the old silver one they used to record all their trips around the world, mark's first steps, your first birthday with them - blinks red, on and off, on and off, as he strips you. he makes sure to capture your body: your bare tits as your chest rises and falls with each panicked breath, the smooth skin of your tummy, then down, between your legs, as he records your sopping cunt taking his fingers.
you mewl and your vision's swimming. and you feel here, there, everywhere, and it's so, so confusing.
you don't know what's happening and it's distressing because you know something is.
your hands weakly try to push at the foreign body on top of you. . inside of you. . but mark is stronger than anyone will ever be and you are far too drugged to do anything about it.
they're gonna be so mad, mark thinks, as he slides into you and tries to keep the camera recording the way your cunt grips him as he feeds his cock inside of you.
they'll be so mad when they find out you've snuck out.
and maybe you'll tell them. . you think something happened. . someone did something to you. . when you try to wash his cum out of your pussy.
maybe you won't. maybe you shouldn't. they'll already be mad at you, best keep quiet about it~
but the graysons will feel even worse in the next few months. . when you start puking your guts out.
and like the perfect parents they are, they'll take you to a doctor. . only for the results to come back positive.
mark may not be a golden boy, anymore.
but in nine months, maybe you'll give him one, instead 💗
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writing-havoc · 1 year
Note
HII! HOW ARE YOU? Okay so i have a kaz brekker x reader request but it's kinda meh but i just can't stop thinking about it. And it's kinda similar to your fic 'high' (my favorite piece of media EVER)
So fem!reader (or gn whichever is easier for you<3) drunk and makes fun of the way kaz talks and his hair and the way how he's really bossy. (I would so call him emo king) and he's just trying to get her to take a bath (be a fish) and rest.
Please please don't feel pressured you can just ignore this. Don't forget to drink water. Have a nice day or night love youu<3
Loverboy
♡ Summary: Kaz comes and fetches you after you have a bit too much to drink. Getting you to bathe and rest for the night is a little more difficult than he remembers.
♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader
♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse
♡ Warning(s): Alcohol, Nudity (not smut)
♡ WC: 3.5k
Hello hello!!! Thank you for your request <3 I'm doing pretty alright thank you for asking. I hope you're doing okay!
I loved being prompted to expand on this and experiment with how it would go. To be honest that's also one of my fav pieces of work that I've done, and I'm glad someone else holds the same joy for it that I do!
Anyway, here it is!! Hope you enjoy it anon, ly <3
Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes
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"Oh for Ghezen's sake just put one foot in front of the other." Kaz nipped, pushing just a bit harder on your back.
Your head was lolling back and to the side, unwillingly looking at the stars. Yet your eyes remain half closed, barely a fraction of your pupil visible in the moonlight. A smile is painted on your face the whole time, lips chapped and cracked from dehydration. "'M tryin' Kaz. But my head is just, so heavy and the stars 're so pretty."
"I know I know- hold on to the cane- the cane!"
He shouldn't have let you have those last few drinks, but unfortunately you batted your little lashes and made the same little promises you do after enough time has passed for his memories to become just a little bit muddled and forget how far from the truth your promises are.
You'll say you'll be fine. You'll say you'll get home safe. You'll say you'll see him soon.
But you can't really fulfill any of those. So he at least has the foresight to stay with you, or to have someone else stay with you and come get him when you down more than your promised two or three.
And he makes a big deal out of it, saying all these things and talking like he's annoyed with you, but really?
He's not.
Not as much as he thinks he should be anyway. If he had heard anybody else complaining as much as he does in his own head he'd stuff his own glove in their mouth and tell them to deal with their inadequate relationship elsewhere.
But it's him, and it's you, and it's different.
You're not like them. You're not violent or a verbal tyrant or negligent.
"Did I ever tell you..." You start, then chuckle to yourself when you straighten up and sway around. "Did I ever tell you that kin'a remind me of a cat with your hair slicked back like that?"
You're,,, silly. And he feels silly saying that but you are. It's the perfect word to describe you when you get like this. Light jabs at the things you like about him, your feet walking to a rhythm in your head that makes you stop and go and speed and slow at random, laughing at the most mundane things.
"I don't believe you have, no." You definitely have. But he allows you to repeat it.
The Slat is wonderfully empty as he opens the door. Only a few people occupy the tables off to the side, but they're just as drunk as you are, and he doubts they can see this far from their drooling.
"Come on." He leads you over to the stairs. "Up we go."
You lean on the rail, shaking your head, smile gone. "Mh-mhn. I can't." You continue to shake your head, eyes closed. "Your leg is bad."
Silly.
"Good observation. Your legs, however, are fine, if a bit wobbly. Up you come." He tries again to coax you up, to no avail. You lean on the rail more, even pushing into it.
He forgot how much you resemble an ox when it comes to getting you to do something. It's like you contain this ability to just plant yourself anywhere and stick no matter the force that's pulling or pushing you.
"Your leg is bad. I can't go up."
"My bad leg does not effect your ability to walk up the stairs." He says as gentle as possible.
"But it does."
He sighs. "Could you explain to me why that is?"
Your bottom lip pushes out just barely, eyes opening and looking at him through your lashes. It's a look that would have any man in Kerch on their knees, he's sure of it. "Need your help."
His heart sunk. "Just grab the railing and my cane, dove. I'll take my good leg up first."
You analyzed the stairs, scrutinizing them. "Promise?"
"You know I don't make-"
"Promise?" A hint of anger bubbled in your tone, the same firmness in your eyes when you snapped your head to look at him.
He takes a deep breath. "I promise."
And just like that you were ready to ascend the stairs. You grabbed the railing, clumsily reaching out for his cane which he gave readily.
Even in your drunken state, you knew exactly which stairs creaked and which ones were just this side of broken. You skipped a stair, glaring at it as Kaz ascended with his good leg first, then continued with your usual lax expression.
He tried to step with his bad leg, but you immediately backtracked and held his cane firmly, holding him back as well. "You promised." You bit out.
"I did." He switched back, good leg going up, slowly edging you along. "It just slipped my mind."
"Nothin' slips your mind." You pouted, begrudgingly ascending when the cane went too far to hold close.
"Important things," he corrected. "Important things don't slip my mind."
You yanked on the cane, making him look at you. "You're important."
And he... doesn't know what to do with that.
Of course in whatever realm you were occupying he'd be important. He's important for a lot of things. His businesses, his club, whatever constitutes as leader of the crows.
It's not that he thinks he's not important. He just forgets to take into account that with you, he's important in the little things too.
Pointing him where to massage on his leg when it's giving him trouble, bringing him fresh tea when he tries to drink the day old stuff pushed to the corner of his desk, at least reminding him to sleep when the clock reaches two bells in the dark hours.
And right now, when you force him to take the pressure off his poorly healed shin.
"You're right." He confirms, helping you to the top of the stairs. "I am. Now come on."
When he began to lead you to his room, you groaned and stood in place. "Noo. I don' wanna fish."
His mouth struggled to stay in a line, corners quirking up. "You have to fish. You're sweaty and you smell like alcohol."
"I's a good smell."
"You gag in the morning when you smell it."
"Hogwash, you walking shadow."
He tugged you along, walking ahead of you and up the stairs to the attic. His help wasn't much needed here with how narrow and more secure the steps were, but you needed the extra hand to coax you up and towards your inevitable bath.
His office was dark, the only thing preventing the room from being cast in complete darkness was the street lights outside pushes a faint yellow glow through the window.
A lantern was stored in a bookcase next to the door for this reason. He clipped his cane onto his belt and hooked a finger under the handle, giving you little assurances that he wasn't going to let you fall while he navigated the room he knew by heart.
He parked you by his makeshift desk, guiding your hands to the desktop for some leverage while he rustled through a cabinet for the matches.
Immediately you were enthralled with the fire. Nina thinks you were an Inferni in your past life, and he finds the idea hard to not believe as he watches your once droopy eyes widen and follow the ball of fire in his hand as it lights the lantern.
He closes the shade, putting out the match and watching you smile as the whole room lights up.
"So bright." You whisper, as if it's your first time seeing fire.
He shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the back of his chair. "Very. Don't touch it."
You pout, taking your hand away. "I don't know what you're referring to."
He takes the lantern from where it rests on the desk, unhooking his cane and walking to the bathroom. "Come take your bath."
"'Come take your bath'." You mock him. "You're a bossy bossy man, you know that?"
He can't see you as he hangs the lantern on a hook, but he knows your hands are on your hips and your head cocked to the side. You always became so sassy when the initial fuzziness seems to wear off.
"It's what im paid for." He calls, swirling the basin of water he had filled up before he left. It was only expected that you should get a bath tonight, and he didn't want to wake anybody now of all times to come and fill it up.
"Youre not getting paid right now."
He didn't have any soap. He used up all of his last time and you usually keep yours tucked in your room, eager to hide its existence from greedy hands.
Just water will have to do, since he doesn't trust you to not fall asleep in the time it will take to go to your room and retrieve yours from your spare set of shoes.
He exits the bathroom, coming face to face with you. "I should be with how I'm ordering you around right now."
He waves you over, and it seems at this point you're becoming too tired to really fight back. You shrug off your outer layers, leaving them in a pile on the floor that you attempt to kick to the side. It's seems you think that you did away with them well enough, but really you just kind of spread them around.
That will have to come later, he thinks, and then puts a hand on your bare shoulder as you take off your shirt, throwing it over the side of the basin. Your pants come off and are thrown at its base, shoes somehow already off in the time span it took to check the tub and come retrieve you, socks following.
"You can keep your undergarments on if you'd like." He says, resting his cane against the wall.
"Oh don't get shy on me now, Kaz. You've seen me naked at least a dozen times." You look back at him, a shit eating smirk on your face.
He's thankful for the warm lantern light to obscure the warmth creeping up his neck and nipping at his ears. "Only because we end up in situations like these. It's more efficient to just get you clean now than have you complain in the morning and almost throw up in the tub."
You moan, the sound throaty and like gravel. "I don't wanna be a fish."
"You dont have to be one for long. Just a few minutes until you're clean."
"Can' be clean if there's no soap."
"We can at least get most of the grime off. Come on, one leg over the other."
Slowly, you climb into the tub, Kaz helping you get in with minimal sloshing.
And now comes the hard part.
His gloves are made of leather. He can't dunk and soak them in the water and expect them to be fine later.
They come off quicker than last time, but just as shakey. He puts on two pairs of cloth ones he's kept in here since the third time this happened, when it became apparent that this would happen again and several more times after.
Once they're on he flexes his hand, feeling the cold unforgiving waves slosh at his knees and lick up his thighs.
It's not the same. It's a bath. It's you.
"Can you get your body?" He asks, though. Because as much as he'd like to be of some help here he can't help but need to touch you the least amount as possible.
You think it over, stretching out as much as the tub allows before nodding. "M'yeah, I can do it."
He hands you a rag, watching it sink under the water and become several shades darker.
He turns around and allows you to do your thing, but knows your routine from when you, Nina, and Jesper had a heated debate about which order to wash your body in.
You'll wash your neck and chest first, digging into your collars bones and over your shoulders, then do you arms, followed by your torso and around your back. Then you'll scrub at your legs, moving to your face, then your waist, then your feet.
It'll take about ten minutes to go over every part, scrubbing in places you think have the most grime, and all the while having your shampoo already scrubbed into your hair so that you can rinse everything out all at once.
But you're tired and drunk, and he doesn't know how far you'll make it down your list until you eventually get frustrated or too exhausted or both.
He listens to the water in the tub move as your scrub yourself beneath its surface. A throaty hum emanates from your throat, a tune oddly familiar to the song that plays in the club filling the room.
Every once in a while you'll sigh, the water halting. He'll lean back and ask if you're alright, and you'll hum and get right back to scrubbing.
It's fifteen minutes before you say anything.
"You alright t' do my hair?"
His stomach churns, acid bubbling at its entrance.
"Ill be fine."
He turns, gesturing with his finger for you to lean your head into the water.
There's a pause before he reaches into the cold depths, wondering if he actually /will/ be fine.
When you look at him, eyes rimmed in red and glassy, he scrounges up whatever stability and modicum of the word "cope" he has and dunks them in.
Immediately he finds your hair, burying his fingers between the strands and finding your scalp.
It's hard to feel anything besides temperature with these gloves, and your head is practically burning against the cool water.
You're definitely cold. He can tell by your flushed cheeks and the way you curl your arms around your waist, goosebumps littering your arms. Yet you remain warm under his touch.
He watches the little hairs on your arm wave in the bath current as he scrubs, almost hypnotizing in their back and forth movement as you move to let them rest against your thighs.
But it's not enough.
He's scrubbing your hair, trying so hard to just focus on the grime under his fingers as his hands make the cold water slosh. The feeling is oddly familiar to the waves coating his hands as they dunk half under as he clings to blue flesh.
But you look at him, and your giggle is like little bells that keep him above water, just for the moment.
"You know what you look like?" You ask. "You look like- oh, what's that new style they got goin' on?"
He has no idea what you're talking about. Fashion trends are far beneath his radar unless necessary for a job.
You snap your fingers, pointing up at him. "Emo!"
That makes his eyebrows raise. Because he is familiar with Emo, because a bunch of kids called him that when they were out much past their bedtime. They found it necessary to shout it at him while he was passing by, laughing as they ran into an alleyway.
"I don't think that's accurate." He manages to get out, dunking your head a little further to cover your ears and get the wisps of hair in front of them.
"It's sooo accurate." You draw out your o's, blinking slowly and out of sync. "Emo king."
He sighs. "Whatever you say, little fish."
You pout, moving away from him and turning belly down, chin dipping into the water. "I thought I was your dove."
Again, thankful for that warm light. It makes his stomach feel all twisty the way you say "your". For just a moment, he let's himself smile, really smile, and puts his chin on his hands. "You are. But right now, you're a fish."
You huff, turning back and putting your head within reach. "Okay, mister emo cat."
He sighs, beginning to scrub at the parts of your scalp that he already got but feels he needs to do another once over for. "I am neither emo nor a cat."
"Tell that to your hair, loverboy."
Loverboy.
He scoffs, taking his hands from your hair. "Your hair's done. Get out so you can dry off."
You laugh at your accomplishment, sitting up and scrunching your hair as he discards his wet gloves on a towel rack and dries himself off.
Honestly, loverboy? He's not some lovesick puppy. Loverboy applies to those who are unfathomably whipped, wrapped around their partners finger and touching at all times. It has no place being in the same sentence that his likeness occupies except to say that he is not a 'loverboy'.
He hands you a towel as you get out of the tub, heading to his closet to fetch you some of his clothes.
"An old one, please?" You yell out to him.
"I know." He calls back.
If he can help it he replaces his button ups every few months. But you like the ones that are just around that area of wear and tear. In your words, they "ain't tight and smell like him. Win win."
He doesn't bother with pants, but grabs a pair of his underwear for you to change into instead that he knows you'll find more comfortable.
As he limps back to the bathroom, he halts as he analyzes his thoughts and actions.
Fuck. Maybe he /does/ deserve the name Loverboy.
The realization almost makes him groan and sit down on the floor right then and there.
Can't he just carve his heart out? Isn't that what the poets and song writers do?
Alas, he is neither a poet nor a musician. So he will instead take the long way out, and bring you his clothes and get you into into his bed before the third bell chimes.
He hands you the clothes, watching your face light up for a moment before he exits to his office to clean up the mess you made.
The beak of his cane hooks under your coat, dragging it up and into his hand which he then throws onto the chair. You hate getting it off the coat rack, half the time pulling it with you when you take your coat back. So he sets it here for now, and takes your shoulder bag and shoes and organizes them around the chair just as you usually do.
"I think I found my new look."
He turns around, seeing you trying to pose against the wall. It's supposed to be sultry and sexy, but it definitely does not read that way with your soaked hair, stiff back, and uncooperative limbs.
"If you think so." He nearly chuckles, taking his gloves from your hands and slipping them onto his own, and then retrieves the lantern from the bathroom. "Come to bed."
Thankfully, you seem to love the idea of the bed. It doesn't take much to lead you to the little nook he calls his bedroom. He hooks the lantern to the wall as your body slumps onto his partially eaten sheets.
"Mmm." You hum, smile hidden under your squashed cheek. "Warm."
"Doubtful." He jabs, unfolding a blanket at the foot of the bed and draping it over you.
"It really is. Should try it sometime." You poke at the space beneath your eye, tongue sticking out.
He assumes you're referencing the eye bags that have taken permanent residence on his face, to which he rolls his eyes and hikes up the blanket to cover your back. You hate the cold creeping in.
If you wake up cold in the morning, you will be cold for the rest of the day. And unfortunately for you, you have a job in about six hours.
The less you have to complain about, the better.
"Ill try it later." He promises. "For now, you need it more."
You mumble something, but with the way your eyes are drooping he figures you're not even aware you said anything at all.
As you doze off, he half sits on his nightstand, and watches your breathing begin to slow and even out. It's loud at first, but eventually you grow quieter and quieter, muscles relaxing as you sink into his hard mattress.
Your hair is thrown about everywhere, still wet from your bath, and you'll need Nina to remove a kink in your shoulder in the morning. But for now, you're calm, and safe, and that's enough.
He takes a deep breath, just the same as you do, and then sighs.
"Goodnight, little fish." He mumbles, and then stands, off to collect the ingredients for a hangover tonic and catch up on paperwork.
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@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker
1K notes · View notes
shadowlali · 8 months
Note
Hii, I love the way you write and was wondering if you could do Philip Graves enemies to lovers to yk what 🤪
the investigator 
COD - Phillip Graves x fem!reader
[18+] wc: ~ 3.1k summary: Commander Graves gets help from an investigator. masterlist
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warnings: NSFW, implied age gap, Graves being then nice, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex, some proofreading, no use of Y/N nor too many details on reader’s appearance  a/n: thank you for this request anon! i really tried my best on this, writing enemies to lovers was definitely a nice challenge. hopefully f!reader is okay! also, if anyone sends in a request, my writing tends to be around ~2k+ but i can try (keyword: try) to make them shorter :)
You’re a nuisance to him. Intelligent, resourceful, rude, beautiful. You manage to captivate everyone’s attention whenever you step foot onto the Shadow Company base. You’re kind, too. Always smiling and talking with the other soldiers, showing genuine interest in their conversations. 
Until you eventually have to face him. Your demeanor changes, the smile drops from your face and forced formalities leave your lips. Everytime you say “Commander” or “Sir”, Phillip can swear on his life that you’re being sarcastic, a tiny smirk always present on your lips. Phillip hates the effect you had on him. It would be so much easier to write off your existence from his mind, but the way you look and the pull of your hypnotic voice reels him in. 
Only in moments like these, when outside help for the Shadow Company is absolutely necessary do you receive the call. You’re an entrepreneur of sorts. Your main talents being investigative and tech work. Shadow Company is one of your least favorite clients, especially since Commander Phillip Graves is always present in the meetings. You aren’t used to speaking to CEOs or Commanders, usually the mission leaders will reach out and take point from there. 
Phillip Graves is handsome with a voice like warm honey, able to dazzle and woo anyone who speaks to him. His soldiers are loyal to their leader, Phillip, having earned their respect. Despite this, he irritates you. The way he speaks to you is as if he’s speaking to a child, ignoring the countless accomplishments in your work. You also don’t like the feelings he stirs up. 
You were a little dazed the first time you met Commander Phillip Graves, his tactical pants and shirt stretched over his body emphasizing every ripple of hard muscle. It was the look he gave, the one you’d seen many times before as someone young in this industry. Doubt. 
“How old are you?” Was the first thing out of his mouth after introductions. 
“I’m–” 
Phillip interrupted you,“ You haven’t been doing this for long, have you?” 
“No, I haven’t. But I’ve had much success in my work. I’m confident enough that I can find whatever you need.” 
Phillip hummed, turning to look at his second in command. 
Your smile dropped, annoyed at this point at having woken up early and gone against your code of getting into cars with unknown men. Blackout, thick glasses had been placed over your eyes as you approached the base to prevent you from knowing exactly where they were located. They sought after you for your services, not the other way around. Therefore, you were a little offended at the comments and insinuations made by Commander Graves. 
“If you don’t believe me, that’s okay. You can find someone else to do it. Who can take me back to my apartment?” You asked, slowly stepping towards the black SUV that had picked you up. 
Phillip’s head whipped towards you, stunned at your tone of voice. Never in his years as Commander and CEO had anyone disrespected him, much less in the presence of his top men. He opened his mouth, ready to let you know exactly who was in charge and who gave orders around here before his second-in-command cut him off. 
“What he means by that is we are just a little surprised that someone so young can do this job. We’re a little on edge but we’d like for you to provide us some intel.” 
You decided to stay, they agreed to your going rate and you didn’t need to speak to Graves for the rest of your time there. He’d pass by the conference room temporarily given to you and give a short glance before looking away. It only took you four days to find everything they needed, the intel legit and his men left impressed by your work. Graves congratulated your work, his body stiff as if he still couldn’t believe it. 
You felt smug at being able to prove him wrong, the newly deposited six-figures in your bank account making you especially happy. They didn’t provide you with company secrets, but you knew how desperate the situation was for them to have reached out. Shadow Company reached out a few more times after the first, always willing to pay whatever price for your skills. 
Currently, you sit across from Commander Phillip Graves in his office, having been rushed in here the moment you exited the SUV. He’d been sitting at his desk, eyebrows scrunched in concentration when you walked in. Graves looks up, his eyes doing a quick sweep over your body. You choose to ignore the warm feeling it gives you and sit down at one of the empty chairs in front of him. Phillip tries to even out his breathing, having enough on his plate already to be distracted by your pretty face. 
Graves runs a hand through his hair before speaking, “I’m… I’m glad you're here. This is urgent.” 
He slides a thin folder across the desk before he begins to speak, “This is the profile we have on –” 
“I’m sorry, this is it? Four pages? I thought you had more on this guy?” 
“I thought you were able to find anyone and anything? Isn’t that your whole business model? With the money I’m paying you, you should be grateful I have more than just his name,” Graves snaps. 
“For a company who prides themselves on being the best PMC out there because of how they ‘get shit done’ it's concerning that your staff has only four pages on him after months of research and tracking.” 
Phillip stares at you, once again remembering why he finds you so insolent. You quickly scan the pages while completely disregarding him. Shadow Company has been tracking a suspect for months, ready to intercept the moment he tried to sell his merchandise. Using finger quotes to speak to a Commander is unacceptable, and only someone like you would do that. He decides to continue, ignoring your words.
“Like I was saying, this is what we have so far. We believe he might’ve been tipped off about our surveillance. He’s dangerous and we need to find him quickly.” 
“I’ll see what I can find, I have some contacts who I can reach out to. I’ll be honest, I need about a week –” 
“You have 4 days.” 
You give him an annoyed glance before standing up and saying “yes sir.” You’re then led to the same conference room as before and get to work. A few of the employees on the mission check in on you periodically, providing you with any extra information they find. 
You reach out to your contacts and have some good leads on where this guy is. Graves comes in on the second day, a few minutes after you arrive from the on-site room they provided. You decide to offer an olive branch. 
“Good morning, sir. Did you want a recap of what I’ve found so far?”
He says nothing, pulling out a chair opposite of yours. Your eyes are going to get stuck in the back of your head with the amount of times you’ve rolled them whenever in his presence. 
He fixes you with a stare,“ You know I looked into your other contracts, everyone says what a ‘pleasure’ you are to work with.” 
You lift an eyebrow with his statement, trying not to laugh at his use of finger quotes which is probably punishment for your actions yesterday. You can’t help yourself, you like pushing his buttons. 
“You spent time researching me instead of, oh I don’t know, trying to find the guy your people lost?” 
Phillip watches you type away at your laptop, his mind reeling with a million thoughts, none of them focused on the suspect. He tries not to concentrate on how good you smell or how much he likes the mischievous twinkle in your eyes whenever you look at him. Phillip stands up, not liking the direction of his thoughts. You’re here to do a job, and the less time he spends with you, the better. 
“Focus on the job, I want my money’s worth.” 
It takes you 3 days to find him, and you’re damn proud of it. The suspect had been laying low on a small boat off the coast and the Shadows were able to pose as buyers to intercept him. You stand in Graves’ office as his second-in-command once again thanks you for your efforts before leaving you two alone. Your bags are packed and a car is waiting for you on the ground floor. Phillip stands and rounds the corner from his desk. He has a pensive look on his face when he addresses you. 
“You should have received the deposit to your bank account by now.” 
“About that –” 
“Let me finish.” He pauses before taking a deep breath, “It was a few more than your going rate. It's my way of apologizing for how I’ve treated you.” 
Your eyebrows shoot up. You thought the extra money had been a thank you for completing the job early, not for an apology.  
“This job, this industry it… It takes a toll on you. That's not an excuse for how often I doubted you. You shouldn’t be spoken to in that way, whether you complete a job or not.”
The look in Graves’ eyes seems sincere. You’re used to working with demanding people, it’s just a fact of life. Yet, it isn’t often when people like him apologize.  
“I forget that everyone is just trying to make it in this world and you don’t need some old guy making it harder for you. I’m sorry.” 
You laugh, ”You’re not that old. And… I accept your apology.” 
Phillip never thought he’d get turned on by the sound of your laugh, but it happens. His pants tighten once he hears the melodic tone of your laugh and the sight of your genuine smile directed towards him. He smiles, stretching out his hand to shake yours. You suck in a shaky breath, his eyes are bright and the fangs at the edge of his smile give you impure thoughts. His hand is warm and firm against your own. You feel tingles shoot up your arm as he gently shakes it. 
“I guess I should go now.” 
He doesn’t let go of your hand, moving his thumb across your knuckles. 
“Yea, you probably should.” 
You’re not sure who lunges first. One moment you’re both an appropriate distance apart, the next his hands have pulled you in at the waist while your hands tug at his soft hair, his lips pressed against your own. Graves’ gives hungry kisses, biting or tugging at your lips.
He moans when you give a hard tug on his hair, digging his hands into your lower back. Graves turns you both around while never breaking the kiss, clumsily walking you towards his desk. He unbuttons your jeans and pushes them down along with your soaked panties, pushing your hands away as you try to unbuckle his belt. 
“No, not yet,” he says while breaking this kiss. 
You kick off your shoes and shimmy the rest of the way out of your bottoms. Graves grabs the end of your shirt and drags it over your head. Your bra follows soon after and you’re left completely naked in his office. He steps back to admire you, a hand dragging from your collarbones down to pinch each nipple, then to your clenched tummy until he drags a finger up and down your wet seam. 
“Sit on the desk,” he orders. 
“Yes, Commander.” 
He groans as you sit on the desk and spread your legs, palming the hard bulge in his pants. Graves steps between your open thighs and pushes lightly at your chest. You get the hint and lie flat on your back.
He kneels down and runs the tip of his tongue from your swollen clit to your slick opening. Graves’ hands are firm on your thighs to keep them open as he starts with strong strokes of his tongue against your seam. You grip the edge of the desk, whines falling from your lips. 
“So wet and sweet for your Commander, right baby? Seems like the only way to shut you up is by licking this pretty pussy.” 
Graves slips a finger in your opening while latching onto your sensitive button. Phillip can’t believe how velvety and soft you are around his fingers. Your walls pulse with each thrust of his fingers, feeling each squeeze travel to his hard cock. 
Phillip wants to be gentle with you, he wants to learn and explore every inch of your body with his tongue, hands, and eyes. He wants to know what makes those pretty whimpers escape your throat, what makes you nice and creamy for him. Your hips can’t stop twisting against his tongue and fingers. Graves laughs against your pussy. 
“Needy girl, aren’t you.” 
“Yes, yes, yes.” 
Phillip makes his tongue rigid and attacks your clit with harsh licks. He loves how quick you are to grip and pull his hair. The noises throughout the office are obscene, his moans mingling with yours along with the wet squelch of his fingers in your pussy. Graves uses his free hand to move your grip from his hair, leaning back to take a look at the gorgeous sight before him. 
He stops the thrusts of his fingers to land slaps on your swollen, glistening pussy. You yelp from the sting, each slap landing directly on your clit. He plunges his fingers back in, finding the spongy spot inside of you with a curl of his two fingers. 
“Come on baby, give your Commander what he wants.” 
You can’t take it anymore. Your back arches on the desk and your mouth falls open in a scream. Your vision goes blurry, the hot pleasure beginning in your core until it spreads throughout your entire body. Your tummy clenches from the orgasm and you squeeze down on his fingers. 
Phillip lets out a husky moan while licking your clit as your walls flutter around the thrust of his fingers, the taste of your slick etching into his mind. He slows his movements and finally stops, letting your thighs close from the overstimulation. Phillip stands and brings his fingers up to his mouth to suck off your juices from his fingers. 
“So sweet for such a rude girl.” 
Phillip drags his pants down, only moving his briefs to rest below his heavy balls. He removed\s his shirt and throws it to the closest chair. Phillip wants to feel your naked skin on his own. He hooks your leg around his waist and slaps your ass to get your attention again. You lie on the desk with your eyes half closed, trying to regain your senses and feeling in your limp body. 
Graves drags the tip of his hard cock up and down your wet pussy. He can’t resist thrusting against your wet folds, your pussy opening for him like flower petals. You feel extremely empty at that moment. You want Graves to fill you up and stretch you. Your hips move in small circles, feeling the underside of his cock slide against your heat. 
“Please Commander, please, please. I want you inside of me.”
Phillip hums, ”I don’t know. You’ve been so naughty all this time. Do bad girls who disrespect their Commander deserve this?” He takes that moment to plunge only the tip in before dragging it out to spread your folds.
You’re close to tears at this point, your nails digging into his hard back trying to push him into you. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you babble, ”just please fuck me, Commander.” 
You have nothing to apologize for, Phillip just wants to tease you and have you begging for his cock. He takes that moment to push in the thick tip and give a deep plunge inside. You’re hot and creamy and soft and all around him, Phillip almost collapsing from the pleasure. You’re left speechless for the first time in your life, your mouth dropping open in a silent scream as you feel stretched to your limit. 
Phillip slowly slides out and watches your inner lips grip his cock, your body not wanting him to leave. He slowly pushes in and out to familiarize himself with your tight heat. You begin to drag your nails up and down his lower back as Graves moves a hand to grip your thigh and another to roughly squeeze your tit. 
“How’s that baby? You like it?” 
“So good, sir. So fucking good.” 
You can barely form a thought, but manage to whimper out a response. His thrusts speed up, sweet words falling from his lips with each squeeze and pulse of your pussy. Graves calls you a naughty girl or tells you how exquisite you feel around him. He leans over to place kisses along your forehead, nose, cheeks, and lips. You suck and bite his bottom lip when one particular thrust hits your g-spot perfectly. 
Phillip wants more. He speeds up his thrusts and moves your thigh with both hands to plunge in deeper. The new position makes you see stars. He manages to thrust into the hilt and drag his tip against the spongy spot inside of you with each slide. Phillip can feel his orgasm approaching. His thrusts become sloppy and his grip on your thigh becomes tighter. 
“Nothing to say to me now, huh?” 
You really don’t. Your mind is only focused on how full you are and how you never want it to end. Phillip turns to look down and fixes his gaze on his cock hammering into your swollen pussy. He begins swiping his thumb over your clit, wanting to give you one more orgasm as he quickly nears his own. 
Once again you feel an orgasm wash over you and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Phillip gives another thrust and his heavy balls pulse as he shoots thick ropes of cum inside your already stuffed pussy. His breath stutters in his throat and he grips your thighs. Graves collapses on top of you, his hips continuing with short, rough movements. 
Both of your bodies are slick with perspiration. You stroke light fingers along his back and through his hair as you both regain control of your breathing. He peppers kisses along your neck and up to your lips.
“Guess I should let the driver know it’ll be a while until you leave, right?” 
You let out a soft giggle, ”I think that’ll be a good idea, Commander.” 
“Call me Phillip.” 
You reach to caress the muscles on his chest as he slowly stands to full height again, moaning as he hardens in you again.
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