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thef1diary · 10 months

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Do Not Disturb | M. Verstappen

Summary: Max hates your ex, so when the right opportunity falls right into his hands, he takes it. Even when he's fucking you in the hotel room.

Warnings: 18+, cocky Max, reader is a tease, champagne shenanigans, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradative terms (barely but just a warning in case)

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: max & f!reader

Note: another repost because why not

Max loves winning. Especially winning the first place trophy in his racing career-from karting when he was younger to the F1 races. Although, for a while now, he's been happier. Many people think it's because of his two back to back world championships. While that may be true, he has another reason.

You.

You have known Max for a long time, both growing up together because your parents were good friends. From the moment he began his racing career in the smaller karts, you've been there. From hating the sound of the karts passing by, to loving the sound of F1 cars passing by. You didn't really have a choice because Max always wanted you by his side.

The point is, you've known Max long enough to know everything about him. Even his fans know you as his number one supporter. But what no one knew, was that your friendship has changed overtime. You and Max got to experience things that one normally would in a relationship, without actually being in a relationship.

You two were friends with benefits. It began a few years ago, drunken celebrations led to lingering touches which eventually ended in crossing the line of a regular friendship. There were no regrets but you weren't romantically attracted to him and neither was he, so the decision was made to remain as just friends.

Today, Max had won another race. He stood on the top step of the podium, listening to his country's national anthem with a smile on his face. While he was glad to add another trophy to his collection, he was thinking of all the ways he would be celebrating with you later on. Preferably with you underneath him on his bed, naked.

While you saw him smile towards his team, his expression towards you was slightly different. A difference that no one else knew the meaning behind. See the thing is, you might've told him something when he embraced you after getting out of his car. "A little fact, I'm not wearing anything under this dress"

You knew that no one would hear you because they were too busy cheering for the man in front of you. Max was pulled away by others but his gaze was still on you. Now, as he was standing on the podium, he watched you with a look that only meant mischief.

After the podium celebrations ended, Max was taken away for some post-race interviews where the same questions is asked in different ways.

Knowing that it'll take him a while, you returned to your hotel room. Usually you would stay and converse with some other drivers while he was busy, but today was a different story.

The comment you made wasn't a lie, you truly weren't wearing any undergarments under your dress. It was definitely risky, but you knew that it would spark a reaction out of Max. And you were glad that it did.

You debated whether or not you should send Max a text, something for his eyes only, but decided otherwise because you didn't want anyone else to see. Plus, he should be waiting for his reward. Perhaps another time.

After freshening up, you sat on the couch in the main room, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, waiting for Max to arrive. However, your eyes widened in surprise when you saw a notification from your ex.

It was a text asking if you could meet him. You were debating on either being nice and meeting him once more for closure, or if you should ignore him. The thing was, you didn't like ending on rough terms. You would hate to be in his spot right now, but considering the things your ex has done, you didn't know what to do.

Before you could reply, the door to your hotel room opened and Max walked in. He was holding his trophy in one hand, and the champagne bottle that he got on the podium in the other hand.

Smiling, you got up and embraced him, "congratulations, champion"

"Don't act like you don't know what you did." He retorted, not hugging you back. "Oh I know exactly what I did." You stepped away from him and your hands travelled down his chest, teasing the edge of the hem of his shirt.

"Got me so hard on the fucking podium. Who knows what people will think?" He let your hands roam around his body, close to where he needs it the most.

"Who cares what they think? You looked so hot covered in champagne"

"Yeah? Let me return the favour" Max tilted his head towards the champagne bottle in his hand.

He placed his trophy on the table to free his hand that was itching to touch you. Wrapping that free hand around your waist, he pulled you against him. Then, tilting your head back, he instructed "open"

You obliged, opening your mouth and waiting for the cool champagne to fill your mouth. He didn't stop even after your mouth was full, letting the excess drip down your chin.

"Swallow" he said, watching closely as you listened. Then, he kissed you, savouring the familiar taste of victory that he worked hard for.

Your hands were still roaming around his body, lifting up his shirt by the hem. Parting away just for a moment to remove his shirt, then his lips were back on yours.

His lips travelled lower to your neck, lapping up the champagne that dripped earlier. His two favourite things combined, your taste mixed with the champagne. His mind was buzzing with all the things he wanted to do to you.

Pouring some more champagne on your throat, his tongue darted out to drink it. "Max" you groaned, liking the sensations but also wanting more.

"Gonna cover you in champagne, baby" he whispered as he continued his ministrations. You made a sound, agreeing to his idea. "Make you all sticky with alcohol then with my cum" he continued, and you really liked that suggestion, "fuck yes please"

"Yeah, you want that?" He asked, bringing his face back up and placing a kiss to your lips. You nodded, "yes please, Max" you replied, breathlessly.

Bringing his beloved champagne bottle up again, he smirked as he slowly poured it down the front of your dress. He watched as the cloth stuck to your body, and he also noticed how your nipples hardened underneath. It was due to the mix of pleasure radiating through your body along with the cold champagne.

"You really aren't wearing anything underneath huh?" He believed you when you said it, but seeing it was another thing. "Why bother when I know you are going to remove it after you win" you found your words and explained your reasoning behind the lack of clothes.

"Fuck baby, you knew I was going to win today?" Max loved how much you believed in him. "Not a single doubt otherwise." This time you claimed his lips with yours.

You supported him like no other. And he was so grateful for that; for you.

Pressing up against his chest, he could feel how soaked your dress was and decided to remove it. Blindly finding the zipper on the back, he tugged it down.

Before he could explore your body using his hands, you pressed one more kiss on his lips before sitting down on your knees. Both of you were now quite impatient, and it was evident in your actions.

Quickly removing his belt and tugging the last layer of clothes down to his knees, you paused for a moment. You placed your hands on his thighs and made eye contact with him, noting how he was already looking down at you. "Want a reward for winning?" You asked rhetorically.

Max nodded, "yes, give me your filthy mouth that loves my cock"

You wrapped your lips around his tip, not taking him any further. You can tell that Max is restraining himself from thrusting in your mouth, and for a brief moment you go deeper but then remove your mouth. "You want my mouth?" You asked, teasingly.

"Fuck yes. I want you" he replies, groaning. You almost break out in a smile but contain yourself, "ask nicely."

Max's glare tells you that if it were up to him, you'd be on all fours with your face pressed in the mattress. But, he also knows that even though you're the one that's on your knees, you have all the power right now.

"Please, I need you so bad. Make me feel good please?" He gave in, listening to you. And man, he definitely felt like a winner when you took almost all of him in one movement.

His hand was resting on your head, tempted to force you to take more. You loved the sounds he was making above you when you would brush against a good spot. You noticed every little movement of his; how his breath would hitch when you moaned, how his abs would tense as if he's trying to hold himself back, and the way he would wrap your hair around his fingers tightly.

Right now, all your focus was on pleasuring Max. After all, he is the winner. And you'd be down on your knees to do this every time he wins, because you love it as much as he does.

Sucking greedily on his cock along with his dirty words made a shiver run down your spine. You two were in for a long night, willing to spend a couple hours in each other's presence.

Max was looking at the way his cock made a bulge in your mouth as you tried taking all of him. You knew you couldn't, but you tested the limits. But, his eyes darted around until he could find your phone since he heard it ringing. It was on the couch that you were sitting on earlier, and the screen was facing up which meant he could see the caller id.

He wanted to make a comment on it especially after knowing that it was your ex calling, but you didn't give him a chance to do so. To bring his focus back to you, you put your hand on top on his that was resting on your head, and urged him to force you deeper.

You both simultaneously let out sounds which drowned out the sound of the incessant ringing, making Max forget about it all.

You knew he was close so you pulled off after deeply sucking him one last time, then replaced your mouth with your hand. "Gonna cover me in your cum?" You asked, looking at him as he figured why you pulled away.

The height of his pleasure almost made him close his eyes but he chose to force them open so he could see how his cum coated your chest.

Once you knew he finished, you removed your hand from him and dragged it through the cum on your chest, coating your finger. Then, knowing that he was watching every move, you cleaned off your finger using your tongue.

"You look so pretty baby" he commented as he helped you stand up.

The thing about Max, is that he would be ready for another round in no time. His stamina and refractory period was unbeatable. "You weren't really nice to me so I don't know if I should fuck you." He told you, holding back a smirk when you pouted. "I know you want to, baby. My pussy's so wet because of you."

"Is it now? Waiting for me to fuck you dumb? That's what you want right?" Max asked as his hand travelled down your body, just barely touching you like you wanted him to.

"Yes, fuck me dumb" you pleaded and he positioned you on the couch to lay on your back. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer.

There was barely any resistance when he slid in you due to your wetness that had dropped down to your thighs. "So perfect for me" Max groaned as he felt you clenching around him, causing his hips to stutter since he already orgasmed once.

Max's hands were on your thighs but he moved one to drag up towards the pool of his cum still resting on your body. He would definitely clean you up later, but right now, seeing you like this did something to him. And he liked it.

His two coated fingers tapped your lips and you opened your mouth, taking them in. Once you sucked them clean, he removed his fingers which was now coated with your saliva, and teased your clit.

You arched your back, feeling every single thrust deep, especially after he easily found the perfect spot and kept a relentless pace. Your hands were balling up in fists, tightly gripping on the sheets.

You were so caught up in your pleasure that you didn't hear your phone ringing again, until Max picked it up. "She's too busy being fucked by me" is what you first heard him say to the person on the other side. It didn't take a genius to figure out who it was.

For some reason, that edged you even closer to your release. "Here, listen to her because you'll never get the chance again." Max told your ex, and held the phone closer to you so the man on the other end could hear your moans only meant for Max.

At the same time, his thrusts became stronger and faster. With that plus his fingers circling your clit caused you to moan Max's name out loud as you came undone.

Your ex heard it all. Max slowed his thrusts but didn't completely stop to prolong your orgasm, and held the phone to his ear again. "Don't you dare think about calling her again." He instructed before hanging up and tossing the phone to the side.

You were all fucked out, just like he wanted, looking up at him with a small smile. Seeing Max's smug expression, you forgot about any embarrassment regarding the fact that your ex heard you moan Max's name.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1blr #formula 1 #thef1diary fic

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paddockbunny · 2 years

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Hi! 20 and 52 with Danny Ric. Him coming in your mouth calling you a good daddy’s girl 🥵 Im already drooling

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Summary : Daniel LOVES Austin. And he's going to love it a whole lot more once you take the cowboy thing into the bedroom. Rating : 18+ Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x Reader Word Count : 1,527 Warnings : NSFW, adult material, 18+, language, oral male receiving (+ swallowing), dirty talk, pet names, idk if there's anymore but its smutty so you've been warned. Gif Credit : @iguessricciardo

Austin, 2021

It was Daniel’s favourite race and for the whole two weeks before it he kept annoying you with his fake Texan accent and calling you ma’am all the time but his excitement was kind of cute. So, with a few days to spare till the GP circus started, Daniel requested you go with him to his favourite western outfitters to pick this year’s outfit with him. You warned him you wouldn’t be joining in. You had already picked out a nice little paddock outfit and sure you could be convinced to add a little Stetson but if he thought he could get you all dressed up like Doris Day in Calamity Jane, he was mistaken.

You trailed through the rail of almost comically cheesy shirts and joked that perhaps he should make his own and he looked like he genuinely mentally noted that suggestion. It was enough to make you roll your eyes amusingly. His obsession with the whole culture was interesting to say the least, but he was overjoyed and happy while he was immersed in it so that was all that mattered. Daniel pulled out some cream number with rhinestones and you could practically hear his thoughts. He wanted to know if there were matching pants to go with it and you burst out laughing. “Ok, Lone Ranger. Just calm down a bit.” He pouted and side eyed you but kept the shirt in his hand anyway and giggled like a naughty child. You pulled out a much more subdued black number and held it up to him. He observed it and nodded and you went round to his side of the rail and handed the shirt over to him. “I like it.” He stated but a few minutes later you noticed him putting it back on a different rail. He wanted the Rhinestone Cowboy look, evidently.

Race Day

Austin was such a great atmosphere and the crowd seemed to love Daniel in all his cowboy glory. The vibe alone carried your rootin’ tootin’ boyfriend into finishing P5 and so he was in a very, very good mood after the race ended and you guys headed back to the hotel. Still wearing his western, Stetson styled hat and snakeskin boots, you couldn’t wait to celebrate with him in private because, ok, you had to admit it, Daniel pulled off the look he had gone for the other day while shopping. He pulled it off very, very well. And even now, clad all in black with the hat and the boots there was something deep inside you that made your panties dampen at the sight of him.

Chucking his bag away from him on the floor, the noise signalled to you that thankfully you now had him all to yourself. He had done well today – ok it wasn’t a win or a podium but still did well all things considered – and you knew how horny he got when he done well. So when you pulled off your jacket and tossed it on the floor, he was practically on you instantly.

“Howdy Ma’am.” His voice deepened and he pressed against your back. His hands snaked around your waist and with a very quick jolt he pulled your butt back at the same time he bucked his hips forward and you could already feel his instant erection. “Well, Howdy Cowboy.” You finally joined in like he had been so desperate for you to do. Daniel ground his hips against you, clearly desperate for some friction, and you let out a soft moan. Just as Daniel’s hands went to reach for the hem of your little sundress you swiftly and abruptly turned around to face him. He drunk you in like you were a tall drink of water and he had just made it through the desert. Those fucking eyes that always made you melt were full of lust and passion but he wasn’t going to have full control tonight.

A shaky, amused breath left Daniel when your hands trailed down his chest and you made the teasingly slow decent on to your knees. You kept eye contact with him and observed him as he let out a deep moan before his teeth sunk into his lower lip when you went for the large buckle on the belt (one that he had also purchased a few days ago in that western store) that strained to contain his rock hard cock. Your mouth watered as your hands confidently finished your task and you roughly yanked at his jeans to pull them down. Daniel let a confident laugh roar from him.

“So eager…” his words flowed with such pride that you were so desperate to taste him and were so hungry for his cock. And seconds later you got exactly what you wanted. You knew the first bold stripe you licked up the underside of his thick, lengthy cock always gave him Goosebumps but tonight the Goosebumps were joined back a thigh shake and his hand already gripping the back of your head.

“Fuck…baby…” Drool and precum mixed together and dribbled down your chin as you continued sucking on Daniel’s throbbing length, pausing every now and then to pay attention to his sensitive, purple tip with the underside of your tongue. The veins that ran up and down his wide shaft looked fit for bursting but you didn’t want to stop unless he begged you too. Blowing him was truly one of your most favourite things to do. No guy had ever made you feel this wet while you gave him a blowjob but the constant praise and vocal admiration Daniel lavished on you was enough to have you touching yourself to have your own pleasure from the moment. As his hand – with your hair wrapped around it – helped keep you moving at a steady pace you moaned as his cock slipped effortlessly down the back of your throat. You breathed out through your nose and let him stay there for a few moments because you could feel how he was starting to loose it. He was right on the edge of control. Then he let his grip loosen and you eased him back out before you looked up at him with wet eyes and your cheeks hollowed out while you returned to sucking.

“Keep going…fuck…y/n.” He was right on the brink. His orgasm was so close you would win a bet on it. He jolted forward a little and you noticed the way his thighs tensed and then with a large groan, Daniel finally came in your mouth. The salty taste of Daniel’s cum was all you could think about. You had desired it all day and in some weird way you always desired it all the damn time, you rather liked the taste and knowing it was you that got him off made your pussy tingle. Your eyes had remained on him the whole time so you got to watch as his face changed. His brow furrowed, his mouth fell open and he was overcome with pleasure from your mouth.

When you were sure that he was completely finished, totally spent, you pulled back and observed him now lazily smiling down at you. You knew what he wanted. He wanted to see it, see his cum – the product of all your work – on your tongue. You learned very quickly how much it turned him on and how it was one of his kinks. He tilted his head backward a fraction and it was like a silent signal for you to open up. So you did. Teasingly slowly you let your jaw fall open and carefully you stuck your tongue out. You didn’t want to spill a drop. Once you were satisfied he had his fill of the scene before him, you tilted your own head back, receded your tongue, closed your mouth and swallowed dramatically.

“You’re Daddy’s good girl, aren’t you?” Daniel purred and you felt the aching for him between your legs intensify. You were now desperate for him to return the favour – because no one could EVER give head like Daniel could – so nodded enthusiastically. Without skipping a beat, Daniel grabbed your arms and pulled you to your feet. His large, veiny hand went to your cheek and you stared straight back into his eyes hoping he would pick up on how desperate you were for him. And in a millisecond you remembered the hat that was on top of his head and that silly little saying printed on one of the t-shirts in that store he took you too a few days ago popped into your mind. Somewhat arrogantly (and cock drunk from the blowjob you had just given him) you smirked before saying boldly; “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” With a wink and Daniel’s loud laughter filled the room. “At your service, Ma’am.” And without skipping a beat, Daniel swooped you up clean off your feet and carried you over to the bed.

Safe to say, after that night in Austin, it would be your favourite race too.

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo blurb #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo prompt #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 fanfiction #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #us gp 2022 #cota

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starzzach · 8 months

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hi [peeks out from writer's block] for @c2-eh

read part 1 here and part 3 here! (or don't)

Carlos has an accident. Charles almost has one, too.

—

Oh Carlos is so dead.

Well. Charles hopes he already isn't already. It wouldn't work very well for his revenge agenda. He had a good race himself – great, really. At least until it was red-flagged because Carlos had crashed on the inside of Turn 9. It didn't bother Charles at first, though a twinge of worry had snuck through when the yellow flag went down and the red flag had gone up.

No, he'd just rolled his eyes and asked Xavi to keep him updated. Xavi didn't, at all, so when he jumped out of the car and asked for Carlos and nobody gave him Carlos, he thinks he had a pretty standard reaction.

Really, they should be happy he didn't stomp his feet and throw a tantrum. Carlos was – well. Carlos was. He was a lot of things. He is a lot of things. Charles frowns. And asks for Carlos again.

"Down in medical," a newer, recent hire tells him. Clearly no one told him not to listen to the drivers. Good for Charles, anyway. "They're making sure he's properly okay. He was pretty banged up."

Okay, now might be time to be a little worried. "What?" he demands. "Why did you not tell me this before?"

Charles isn't as friendly with the engineers as Carlos is. He likes to think he's a nice person. He's certainly had his moments, but everyone has. Nobody really questions him at Ferrari – nobody really questions him at all, really, except Carlos.

Carlos is always quick to, infuriatingly, talk him back down to Earth. So. He really can't afford for anything to happen to Carlos.

They don't let him go, though. Fred tells him to stay in the garage, warning him not to leave, and so Charles stays put like a prize pony, waiting for the debris to be cleared and the track to be deemed safe. He's distracted and stressed and everyone knows it.

The race is uneventful. He crosses the line in third, right where he'd started. The podium celebration is quiet – there's still not much word on Carlos. So, naturally, it's the first thing he does.

They part for him, like a sea. The reporters stay away from him, the drivers stay away from him. Tomorrow, or maybe even this evening, they will spin a story about how Charles hates Carlos for possibly ruining his race and Ferrari simply cannot handle the petty teammate drama.

Carlos cares about all that much more than Charles does, but Charles is always the one who ends up defending them. He argues with the nurse for a minute or two, increasing in volume. "I need to see him!" he shouts, unsure of why he's being so adamant. Perhaps he's a little bit more worried for Carlos than he wants to admit.

Andrea materialises at his side. "Charles," he says very quietly, hand on his arm. He pulls him to the side, and the nurse looks considerably relieved, breathing in big gulps of air. His scent must be worse than he realises. "Charles, did you get darker fireproofs this weekend?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Then tell me..." Andrea looks worried, properly worried. "Tell me that's not blood on your thighs."

"What?" He glances down and it's like– it's like looking at it acknowledges the pain he's in– the pain he's been in. "Fuck, what the fuck?"

"You need to see medical, too–"

Charles tries to shrug him off, vision blurring. "No– no, I'm fine– I need to– Carlos–"

Andrea fights him, and it's easy, too, given the cramps in his stomach. Fuck, this really can't be happening. "Let medical give you the OK," he says sternly, but there's concern in there, too. "You can see Carlos after."

Charles isn't an idiot. They've been having sex – lots of it, and the intention had been pretty clear. Pregnancy isn't very encouraged in athletes, much less male omega athletes. The stress from the race probably didn't help. He should have expected the miscarriage, really.

Tears sting in his eyes. He's not the most optimistic person, and he would have expected this, if he knew at all. "Please," he says, hoarse. "Let me see him first."

The thing is – in Ferrari, everyone is soft for Charles, and Andrea is no better. Irritated, he agrees, making Charles vow he'll get himself checked out. The nurse who had been pretending not to eavesdrop wordlessly guides him to the room he's been looking for.

"Idiot," is the first thing he says, so so so relieved. There's an IV in Carlos' arm but he's awake and safe. "Idiot, idiot, idiot."

Carlos laughs. Charles feels drunk on the sound of it. "Happy to see you too. I lost the wheel. How was the race?"

Charles climbs into the bed, trying very hard not to wince. Carlos notices and grills him until he pouts, but they talk. They talk and Charles pours his heart out and kisses Carlos until he forgets his own name (it might be the concussion) and then very quietly tells him he might have had a miscarriage.

Not the best way to go about it, but Carlos holds his hand through the checkup two hours later and they tell him no miscarriage, just some common bleeding. The baby is fine. He's almost two months along. He's due in late March. Carlos cries. Charles might have too.

"Wow," Carlos whispers after the tech wipes the gel off, the palm of his hand coming to rest on Charles' belly, slightly squishier than normal. The tech says something about a printout. "There's our baby in there. Our tiny baby."

Then the irrationality hits him and he whacks him with a pillow. He's going to hate being pregnant, how could he–

Oh, Carlos is so dead.

#hahhahahaha #very much in tune with the laughs to not cry #hope u enjoy eva #zach writes #charlos abo #charles leclerc #carlos sainz jr #tw: mentions of possible miscarriage #this was meant to be soft and sweet and a marriage proposal #alas

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safetycar-restart · 10 months

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🏍 anon here ive been mia sorry about that. So lots happened in that motogp trippple header, not even sure where to begin

Enea returned! So we've talked dom au with him, after enea truly had a race again did he and his dom just celebrate in a really soft so to say way considering what injuries he still probably had? Like sure sex was most definitly had but can also see post race shower where the dom washes his hair and then after takes care of the hair and pets it? Just happy enea with so much trust?

Bezz is mostly just chilling with his fellow alpha and being a emotional support alpha that he is. He's done very well so perhaps the academy organises a night away for bezz and his love?

Fabio and Marc is both pretty much ouch. Like im not even sure what to write but in a dom au there dom would be telling the respective team to not contact them until next race in like a month and just take care of them. So much softness and comfort and def some sex. Cant remember if we've explored bondage for either, but think it could fit here.

Hope youre having a fabuloys time and give a shout if its any motogp rider i miss on asking about that you want to talk about

I received this ask as i about to write a post reminding everyone that i write for motogp so this timing was fucking PERFECT. I love all these thoughts and you discussed everyone i love talking about!!

ENEA:

I definitely agree that the celebrations would be more soft than anything else. Honestly i think he would mostly just be relieved he's still able to ride? Part of him believed that he'd simply not be able to ride again, and no amount of reassurance could help him with that.

So yeah, it's very soft.

We also said how shocked Enea would be that you actually came back with him and stayed with him throughout his rehab. He thought he would only get to be with his team dom when he's riding again.

This meant that by the time he did get back to motogp, you two are a proper team. He loves and trusts you so so much and he's so thankful so have a dom this kind and caring.

You're so soft with him after races, especially because he's so tired and sore. You mostly just hold him close, sometimes soft sex and always lots and lots of head pats.

I think enea loves being able to switch off after a race? In fact he likes to do that at the end of every day at race weekends? He just falls into you and lets you take care of him, nice and soft.

(Harder scenes do happen too of course, but never on race weekends)

BEZZ:

I NEARLY FORGOT ABOUT OUR POLY!VR46!! For anyone new or needing a reminder: we said that Marco is basically the emotional support alpha of the Academy riders as the rest are all omegas. He helps them through heats and joins nests and he's just so so loved.

But then he meets you, another alpha, and fuck he loves you? He doesn't care that you're an alpha too, he's just so happy. And when the academy meet you, rather than being jealous about you taking bezz from them, they all collectively go 'mine' and now they have TWO emotional support alphas. (i love this verse please send me more on it)

Anyway, Bezz did so well this triple header!! Naturally he gets all the kisses and cuddles from the entire pack. And of course you're there too! I definitely think that the day of his podiums, the entire pack is there because their emotional support alpha did well and so he must be cuddled!!

But then the next day, they absolutely leave you and bezz alone and insist that you two spend some time together. And because they're all little shits, they make you two a nest in your hotel room and leave snacks and condoms on the bedside table.

FABIO:

I'm gonna do the d/s au here.

Firstly, Yamaha fears for their life. They are fucking terrified of you. All of them wince whenever you walk past because they know you're sub is sad because of them.

I think you just had to be very soft with Fabio during the triple header because he was on the brink of a meltdown and literally ANY form of disapproval from you would have sent him over the edge. You just needed to be there for him, offering him praise and cuddles and comfort.

So the moment the summer break starts, you just take Fabio away from it all. I think you'd do a lot of intense scenes with him? Bondage and edging and long term denial and pain play. He spends entire days in subspace, letting you handle everything and finally properly resting.

Maybe you let him wear his collar 24/7, not just in scenes? And when the break is over... he just wants to carry on wearing the collar.

MARC:

I think for marc it's about letting him have fun during the break? Like actual, real fun? Movie nights and picnics and road trips and beach days and so much more.

You kept up a strict regime of intense scenes throughout the triple header, because marc functions SO much better when he's regularly in a deep subspace but now it's the summer break and while he of course still needs his dom, he also needs to be reminded that things can just be enjoyable?

#poly!vr46 #mb #eb #mm #fq #sub!marc #sub!fabio #d/s au #gn!reader #🏍

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wolfanddragon98 · 10 months

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@dreaming-for-an-escape

You mentioned that there will be a nameday celebration/joust for the twins and I cannot help but think that Aemond would decide to participate as a combatant at the last minute. Like not even his mother knows. She finds it odd that his usual seat at the royal podium is empty. While he's not the biggest fan of such events, he is a dutiful son who always attends and is present on time. And this is a celebration for his nephew and niece, so she knows he wouldn't miss it on purpose. So naturally, she finds is very odd that he's missing. She's about to ask Crispy to look for him, but suddenly one of the twins squeals in joy: "That's Uncle Aemond right there!"

Mr. I-don't-give-a-shit-about-tourneys suddenly appears in badass looking armor and on a magnificent horse that is clearly well bred. Only the finest horses for the royalty.

Adrian probably gave him one normal compliment when he was training with Criston Cole about how impressively he fought, and he decides in that moment that perhaps a way to her heart is to show her his strength and perseverance at the tourney.

Boy, calm down. She only said one nice thing. XD

And then he beats his competition only to crown Adrian the Queen of Love and Beauty, making the implication clear to everyone that he's very much interested in her. Adrian clearly doesn't know the implications of such gesture because she's not from this world, but nevertheless she feels very awkward about it. She accepts the crown, but to avoid more stares she says that she finds a more worthy suitor of such a title and crowns little Jaehaera, because it's her nameday and she wanted her to feel special. :')

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recycledcactus · 3 years

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so i’m really thinking about the Dream SMP as like, a world with civilians and stuff. because you know how when there was an election, our votes were canon, right? so what if there were regular ol’ villagers and civilians who lived in this world...

(also this is kinda based off of something @khizuo said a while back. also @phantom-clock, @strawberiitea, and @emo-and-confused, y’all might like this, idk)

reblogs appreciated :]

Warning: Long post ahead!!! (Basically me just skimming over all the events since Tommy had the first duel with Dream and then to the point where he and Tubbo faced off with Dream in sort of a civilian’s perspective)

I’m thinking about how people inhabited the lands of the whole DreamSMP, lived in those places and had homes and jobs in those places. There were people who followed their leaders. People who grew to question their leader’s morals. People who still remained after all the destruction. And people who left because nothing could ever be the same

I’m thinking about how some men, women, and even possibly some children went to war for their countries. They looked up to their leaders––their symbols of hope and freedom. They fought and died and some probably never made it home.

I’m thinking about how they went to bed one night, presuming they had lost the first war, only to wake up to cheering in the streets. They woke up to see their leader, Wilbur, and his closest friends laughing and hollering and yelling ‘We won!!’. Do you think they ever learned that Tommy sacrificed a life? Do you think they were told that? Or do you think they lived in blissful ignorance that a child died and gave up his discs for their country. Did they celebrate that day, thinking all was well?

Did they pass the walls of Eret’s castle with hatred in their gut?

What about Schlatt’s election? I wonder if people knew who this guy was. Wasn’t he just a stranger brought to their lands? Schlatt was originally there to help Pog2020 win, right? How did the citizens feel when the ram announced he’d be running too? Or worse, when he won? They must’ve been scared, right? Confused. Scared. Unsure. Curious, probably. And when Tommy and Wilbur were exiled. They had to watch their leaders be shot at, driven away by arrows and mad laughter. They watched Tubbo be called to the podium. Watched Schlatt grin at the teenager and announce him as his right hand man. They were helpless to Tubbo nervously leading Tommy and Wilbur far away. Did they riot? Cry out? Try to fight? Were they held back by the others? Perhaps some left the nation, too scared to stay.

Citizens probably slipped away in the night, past guards, and followed where they saw Tommy and Wilbur go. They probably found the two building their home and joined them, eventually setting up a system for other people on their side to come quickly. Did they work as double-agents in the shadows? I imagine they mined out Pogtopia and created little pockets of space to live in. Children’s laughter would ring out on all levels of the ravine. Patters of footsteps rung throughout the underground society. People would slip in and out with resources, information, and recruits. It was a small, bustling base. But it was home to the revolution.

They watched the great Blood God walk their halls, scared to be in his presence but ultimately in awe. They farmed silently by his side for hours, just to go to bed and wake up the next morning, finding he didn’t stop. That probably changed their vision of him, if only for a short while.

I wonder how they felt when Wilbur went insane.

Were the plans of bombing their old nation just rumours that echoed the caves? Or did they know the grim possibility of what could come?

When Technoblade murdered Tubbo, did cries ring out in the streets? I’d imagined they did. I’d imagine more riots. By both citizens and revolutionists. Fireworks danced in the skies but they were never a joyous sight after that day. Did people yell and scream at Techno as he massacred the leaders and founders of this server? Or did they dare to make a noise, too scared to meet an end like that?

Some of the adults gathered around the pit Wilbur made, watching the sickening show happen. They cringed at each of Wilbur’s little taunts. This was not their leader. This was not who they swore to follow.

I think some people left the lands after that.

They went into another war and thought they came out with a win. Schlatt was dead in the old drug van and it seemed things were at peace now. Many people disagreed with Tommy being at the podium––being in power––but not much was said. It couldn’t really get worse from Schlatt and Wilbur, right? Tubbo is elected and he accepts. There are cheers and cries of relief. Everyone’s tired but in a good mood. They don’t notice their old leader slip away. It only descends into more chaos from there. There are more fireworks, fighting, clanging of metal on metal. People no longer know which side is which––or even who attacked in the first place. Tommy is yelling something, and Techno is yelling something back. Did they notice Wilbur was gone? Did they start to realize the gravity of the situation? Did anyone suddenly just feel hopeless and accept that this was the end? The ground shakes, and people can’t tell if it was due to battle, or due to a winged man entering their world. Civilians and soldiers alike witness their home explode and burn to the ground. Did they have time to see Phil and Wilbur argue? Did they watch their former president get stabbed by his father? Or were they too distracted with Techno’s speech and the Withers and Tommy’s reaction to see anything? (A reminder was set into place: Do no mess with the Blood God). How many people do you think died that day? Soldiers and civilians alike? Children, even?

What did they do when their nation was nothing but a burning hole in the ground?

What did they do when they suddenly lost everything? When their homes were nothing but rubble and ash? When the bodies of their friends and family alike littered the gaping crater that was their nation?

Did they hold onto hope at the words of their new leader––the dream of a new L’Manburg? More people left, probably. Did the revolutionists take their stuff from Pogtopia and never enter that toxic crevice of a base again? Perhaps they put up tents and huts around the destroyed L’Manburg just like how it used to be in the early days. They set to work slowly rebuilding their country and tried their best to keep their spirits high. It wasn’t the end.

Philza was nice to them, albeit melancholy at times. They liked him. (Did they know what he did)?

How many people do you think yelled and took out their anger on Ghostbur? How many people do you think actually liked him?

Did they turn the site of the still-intact L’Mantree into a graveyard for their fallen friends and family?

I wonder how many people hated Tubbo being in power. Hated that a kid was leading their country. Or were they more pitying and angry at life for doing these things to children?

Did they know Tommy and the new kid, Ranboo, burning George’s house before Dream caught on? How many were terrified when the obsidian walls were put up? How many people were angry when Tommy went to court. Angry at Tommy for doing this? People probably either yelled that Tommy was just a kid, a victim of war and manipulation. Others probably yelled that ‘yes, this was all his fault, he should be punished for this’.

But were they prepared to see their conflicted leader exile his best friend?

Did they riot, scream, curse, and fight? Did they shout at Tubbo for being a terrible leader? Did they drive him into his home with their protests? Or were they stunned into silence at the gravity at the situation. He was a kid. He was a kid. He was a kid. They were kids. Did anyone try to find Tommy when he was in exile but ultimately get killed/escorted back to L’Manburg for their efforts? What did they think when Tubbo stumbled into their nation one day with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes, mumbling something about ‘Tommy’s dead’?

I wonder how many people lost respect for their president that day.

I wonder if they showered the famous bench in flowers, place notes of respect in Tommy’s house, and give him a grave under the L’Mantree next to Wilbur’s.

Was it a surprise when Philza fled the country? He was kind, yes, but he never seemed to enjoy himself. He always looked tied down. Were they happy he was going to find a better place to be, or were they angry if they knew just where exactly he was going? Were they horrified and disappointed in their government for forming a ‘butcher army’? How sick do you think they felt when they heard the ambitious whispers of Quackity and saw how his behaviours became small reflections of Schlatt? Were they terrified at the possibility that another dictator like Schlatt could arise into power? Did they watch Techno’s failed execution with satisfaction or with unease? I think some were more amazed seeing the powers of a Totem of Undying for the first time. (A second reminder was set into motion: Do not mess with the Blood God).

Was anyone brave enough to ask Quackity how he got that scar running down his face?

How do they feel when Sam starts building a large whatever-the-hell-it-is out of blackstone and obsidian? They might catch wind of a prison being built to contain somebody certain. Nobody knows who, but many theories (Tommy, Techno, Tommy, Techno, Tommy–) are discussed. Is the inescapability of the prison boasted about or kept entirely secret? Does anyone look at the massive creation and feel like throwing up on sight? Not only because of the magical effects, but also because how the hell could somebody put a living, breathing human in there and not feel an ounce of regret or remorse? It sticks out like a sore thumb in the badlands and soon people just learn to travel places in a way that they can avoid it at all costs. I wonder if anyone senses Sam’s slight discomfort when he’s talking about who will go inside. Do they pity him? Or do they spit on him and glare at him for agreeing to do this?

The egg is is still only known by Bad, but do you think they sense the changes in his behaviours? Or are they simply too busy with their own lives?

When Tommy shows up, do people think they’re hallucinating? Do they stop in their tracks when they see that not only is he still alive, but he also looks nothing like who he was. He looks tired. So, so tired. His eyes are mostly dull, only the twinkle of the Christmas lights making them seem remotely bright. Though his smile is wide, do they notice how nervous it is? How happy yet unbelievably worried he is? How he slouches more, curls in on himself more, to appear smaller and less threatening. He still speaks loudly, yes, but he shuts up much faster. Do they notice how he always looks over his shoulder? How he always seems hesitant to open his mouth. Do they even recognize who he is anymore?

How do they feel when Tommy lights up when he sees Tubbo, yet seems almost scared to go and talk to him?

When the festival for Dream is announced, do they dread it? Do they get nightmares about the old festival when Tubbo was executed? Do they talk amongst themselves about how bad of an idea it is? Does anyone protest? Or are they just relieved to get some time off? I can’t imagine they’d know about the plans to assassinate Dream.

Are there any passerby’s when Dream stops Techno and Tommy at the Nether portal? Do they exhale in relief when Techno says Tommy is with him? Do they hold their breaths when Techno talks about cashing in a favour? Or do they simply retreat, too scared to be caught in a potential scuffle?

Do they cower or prepare to fight when Tommy and Techno show up, demanding for Techno’s things back? Does anyone really feel any kind of sadness when a Wither is spawned and destroys bits of their homes? Or do they just sigh and pick up the pieces of their hopeless nation?

How many people hear Techno mention blowing up L’Manburg again when he talks with Tommy at the community house? Does anyone catch that information amidst the pouring rain and newly-broken homes? I imagine it’d go unheard. The civilians are too busy fixing yet another damage to follow the mysterious brothers in the pouring rain. (They’d prefer to sleep in dry beds that night, thank you).

The festival takes place and it’s surprisingly... normal. There are tensions between the members of the cabinet and the other important figureheads of their respective lands, but it’s relatively quiet. It’s obviously not a well-planned festival, but it’s a festival nonetheless. Citizens get to enjoy the crappy games and snack booths that were haphazardly put together. It’s unusually peaceful considering this is the DreamSMP. Do they fall to their knees in despair when they find the watery ruins of the Community House? Are they furious that the most significant building in their world has been destroyed, just like everything else important, it seems. How many tears fall that day? How many accusations are spewed that day?

As they watch Tubbo and Tommy yell at each other, are they reminded of the day Tommy was exiled? Do they think of the face-off between best friends that happened on looming obsidian walls and dull skies?

Can they even register the words Tommy screams in blind frustration?

Are they in disbelief when discs are tossed to the enemy?

Or are they even surprised that another fight is breaking out? Do you really think that after all the shit these people witnessed, they’d still get surprised at conflicts.

But what about when Techno and Dream casually discuss plans to blow up their nation beyond repair? Do they finally register what’s happening? Are they frantic, already running to save their stuff? I think some would be in such a state of shock that they can’t even think about leaving.

I think that’d be the moment when people realize just how utterly powerless they are when it comes to their fates.

Is it really worth being sad over anymore?

When Tommy rallies figureheads and civilians alike, they try to be hopeful. To have one last spark of faith. But it’s hard. It’s so hard to be hopeful when the only constant in your life is destruction and chaos of your own home. It’s hard looking into the eyes of a boy so broken by war but still desperately trying to fix things. To know nobody had faith in him, and watch as this kid tries his goddamn best to make things better.

(Is he called selfish? Are people still mad at him? Does anyone have the energy to be mad at him for wanting peace?)

Nobody sees Nikki destroy their items for war.

Many last ‘goodnights’ are said as everyone prepares for what they dread (read: know) will be the end. They wake up to a big obsidian grid towering over their nation and a feeling of hopelessness settles into their guts. It wasn’t supposed to happen this early. It was supposed to be later. They were supposed to have some time in the morning to prepare for the inevitable. To say their final ‘goodbyes’ and hug their families for what could be the last time. They were not supposed to wake up to a grid obscuring the sun, still in progress of being built.

This battle is far more chaotic than the first destruction of L’manburg. There are far more Withers, far more swords and shields clanging, far more shouts between once-brothers and leaders. Phil no longer has the caring yet melancholy smile on his face. His eyes are cold and uncaring, his mouth unmoving as he schools his expression. People drown in blood, but they keep fighting because why not? They don’t have a reason to live anymore. Why not go out fighting for their doomed nation? They look the screeching Withers in the eyes and accept their fate.

Most are too distracted by Withers to listen, but do some hear the desperate cries between a certain Piglin and a certain blond boy? Do their hearts shatter all over again, or can they no longer feel anything? Perhaps their pity is buried underneath all the trauma and exhaustion they’ve endured. It can be hard to pity another when you yourself are barely getting by. They watch Nikki throw a torch into the L’Mantree, uttering the line ‘It was never meant to be’. They watch as it goes up in flames. They do not have the strength to put it out. But some salute with her and give her silent nods of understanding. They can’t bring themselves to be angry when Fundy stands off to the sides and watches their country burn. Do they hear Ghostbur’s outburst agains Phil? Do they watch in sadness as blue tears flow out of his eyes and he cries out about how much he actually feels things and isn’t just some happy-go-lucky comic relief.

Does anyone have enough care left in them to cry?

The numbered survivors join in on singing the national anthem. That seems to be the breaking point for a lot of them.

It’s okay, some try to convince themselves. It was never meant to be.

Not many people stay after that. There are only around 6% of the original population left. A good portion of these people are ones without families or friends. People who can afford to stay in such a destructive environment. It’s a desolate wasteland and people scatter around to find some kind of shelter. They don’t really know why they stay. Why they bother caring. It’s over. Maybe it’s because there’s really nothing left in life for them so what’s the point in leaving if their past will haunt them forever? Or because the chaos of their lives has now become a definite constant and they can’t imagine living without it. They’ve lived with destruction for so long that peace almost seems boring and unfulfilling. Did they really form an addiction to this lifestyle? How pathetic, honestly. Most people join Tubbo in Snowchester while others simply live wherever isn’t completely destroyed.

There are plans of Tubbo and Tommy finally killing dream.

Citizens are tired. It will not end.

The day comes, slow and steady like molasses on a hot day. Silence blankets the already pretty-quiet lands. Unspoken words are muttered between citizens and leaders alike. They line up on the Prime Path and say goodbye to the boys who fought so hard for a better world.

They try not to think about how much the two have lost, and yet they do not give up. Like the soldiers they were forced to be, they march on and face the jaws of death without any second thoughts. There are no fathers or brothers to be proud of them anymore. Nobody to stand behind them and offer unwavering support. They only have each other, and who knows if that’s a good or bad thing.

The silence that hangs over the land doesn’t lift. Not for many, many hours. Not until they watch as Tommy and Tubbo stumble back into the DreamSMP with wounds on their bodies and drained yet ecstatic smiles on their faces.

Nobody talks when they see Sam lead a chained up and tired-looking Dream to the large, inescapable hellhole that is Pandora’s Vault.

Not a word is uttered until the two teenagers announce their victory.

Dream is on his last life.

Dream is in prison.

Dream will no longer hurt them.

There’s an exhale of relief.

Many would argue that this wasn’t worth it. That living in this land was not worth the trouble it brought upon people. And many people would be right. But the sight of Tommy and Tubbo finally relaxing for the first time since before L’Manburg even started made them feel like maybe, just maybe, this moment was worth sticking around for.

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wylanvnneck · 3 years

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This 2 part fic was written for the Secret Snusband Gift Giveaway hosted by @jurdannet and @jurdannetrevels for my lovely Knife Wife @lilacs-with-lavender.

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Inspired by an episode of my favourite Cop TV show, ‘Castle’, in which a bet takes place with pretty high stakes, although the plotline has been tweaked to fit this fandom. My Knife Wife said she loved the Enemies to Lovers trope so that’s what I’ve (tried to) write here and I hope you enjoy the story of Homicide Detectives Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbriar and their mutual enmity.

Warnings: Not so graphic descriptions of murder and mention of drugs. (Really not sure what I need to tag, so please let me know if I’ve missed something.)

Posted as a Gift on AO3 | Part 1 | Masterlist

Part 2

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“Lil, It’s 7.15 and I still need to decide on a dress, help!”

The ever helpful Liliver is currently perched on her bed, legs crossed and unruffled in stark contrast to Jude’s frantic rummaging of her sparse closet. She comes across a sparkly orange sequin dress that she holds up for her friend’s inspection.

“Honey. You’d look like a broken disco ball.”

“The girl at Saks said sequins were in.”

“She lied.”

Ugh. Damn Greenbriar for his stupid bets and his stupid dinners and his stupid brain which occasionally stumbled upon solutions. Defeat was a bitter pill to swallow.

She’s contemplating over whether to excuse herself for the night by pretending to have an infectious disease which requires keeping all other humans at a distance of five feet, when the doorbell to her apartment rings.

“Lil, would you mind answering the door for me please?” she asks, conscious of the fact that she was dressed in only her underwear.

“Sure, but when I come back you’d better not be wearing that ghastly hot pink dress I saw in there,” her friend calls as she unravels herself from the cozy mattress and leaves the room.

Foiled again. Jude’s just about out of options and the only thing that she can fathom being worse than having to be Cardan’s fake girlfriend for a night, was having to do so while being completely underdressed and out of place in a roomful of his father’s closest business associates.

“There was a package delivered to your doorstep,” Lil says as she re-enters the room, carrying a white parcel in her hands.

“A package? But I haven’t ordered anything.”

“Open it, maybe there’s a note,” she hands it over. The detective inside of Jude is wary, but she’s too curious to not open it so she gently rips open the package’s wrapping to reveal a large square box tied with a silver ribbon and tag attached to it. ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’ are the only words written on it. She knows immediately who it’s from and she feels an answering surge of anger along with an emotion that isn’t easy to decipher.

“I knew he was arrogant, but this-” She roughly unties the ribbon and tears open the lid and inside is the softest folded up material that she’s ever seen. Gently, she takes it out and it unfolds, turning into a simple but gorgeous black cocktail dress with an A-line skirt and off the shoulder sleeves, the picture of elegance.

Lil’s silver eyes are wide when she lets out a low whistle, “Damn.”

Jude is speechless.

“Wow.” Cardan’s voice sounds slightly higher pitched than usual before he clears his throat, standing just outside Jude’s doorway. “You clean up nice, detective.”

With a little help from Lil, she had accessorised the dress with a silver choker necklace that had belonged to her mother and a small velvet clutch. Her hair was carefully put up with dozens of little bobby pins and she feels sexy and ready to conquer whatever the Greenbriar family had in store for her.

Cardan himself is dressed in a coal coloured suit, a silky scrap of fabric tucked into his jacket pocket, shiny enough to match his eyes. There’s the faintest shimmer of gold on his defined cheekbones and his curly locks are just untidy enough to look stylish and it’s unfair how handsome he is.

“So do you.”

He steps back and holds out his arm for her in the way that gentlemen did in those historical dramas that Lil was always forcing her to watch and it shouldn’t have made her blush as she clutches the soft fabric covering his arm, but it did. She blames it on the corridor’s harsh fluorescent lighting.

Together they glide to the elevator and wordlessy head to the garage where Cardan’s sleek grey Maserati stands out amidst the other rundown cars belonging to the other apartment tenants, her neighbours, yet another reminder of all the differences between the two of them.

“Your carriage awaits you, my lady,” he opens the door for her, something that most of her few disastrous dates had neglected to do in the past and she’s so used to thinking of him as an indecorous scoundrel that him being so courteous was almost unwelcome. She’s not used to spending time with him outside of work and she’s strangely out of her element.

Cardan goes round and gets in on the other side and Jude secures her seatbelt as he starts up the car and swivels his head around to watch the back of the car before reversing.

They’re cruising along in his car and the only noise is the smooth purr of the Maserati and it smells of the pine air freshener that he’s pinned up to the rearview mirror. She leans back in her smooth leather seat and watches as they pass by buildings and skyscrapers and shops, the city buzzing with nightlife.

“So, what exactly is it that I’ve gotten myself into?”

Cardan takes his eyes off of the road to shoot her a swift glance before focusing back ahead of him, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear stick.

“Well, it’s a dinner party with some of my father’s closest friends, all of them snobs and all of them with their own agendas. I suppose I should also mention that this party is to celebrate the win of his company’s recent lawsuit.”

“Sounds like it’ll be wonderful.” Her words are dry with sarcasm. She has no desire to spend the night making polite conversation with aristocratic stiff necks who would look down upon her, but a bet was a bet and she had to admit that so far Cardan wasn’t making her regret her decision to agree to his challenge.

He surprises her by letting out a low and husky laugh, “You have no idea.”

There’s an awkward silence.

“Thanks for the dress, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

For the short remainder of the ride the only sound that can be heard are the songs being played on the radio.

The party is in high swing by the time they get there, champagne glasses clink, waiters in their smart uniforms walk around carrying trays of hors d'œuvre and the low rumble of conversation and piano music fills the air. The private outdoor venue is large and there are fairy lights strung on the bordering walls and tea candles on each table, creating an overwhelming effect.

There’s a slightly raised ramp at the other end of the entrance where a podium had been set up, complete with a banner displaying a fancy script that reads ‘Elfhame Enterprises’, which was the name of Cardan’s father, Eldred Greenbriar’s company.

Cardan has been holding her hand since he opened the car door once again for her and now, standing at the entrance of the party and waiting for his invitation to be accepted by the guard stationed at the gate, he squeezes her hand tightly in his and the act seems unconscious. There’s a tension clearly written on his face.

For once she doesn’t need to raise her head to speak to him, thanks to her three inch heels and she leans over to discreetly whisper in his ear, “You ok?”

This time the gentle squeeze that he gives her is definitely on purpose.

“I’m fine.” There’s the smallest of curves to his lips.

A diminutive lady with pale skin and Cardan’s sharp cheekbones and raven hair bustles up to them, a long stemmed wine glass filled to the brim held loosely in her hand. Jewels glistened on her long and low-cut gown, adding to the air of opulence that she exuded.

“Cardan, you’ve finally arrived. Oh and you’ve brought someone with you!”

“Hello, mother.” There’s a tightness in his smile. “Yes I did, allow me to introduce you to Jude Duarte.”

Stepping forward she firmly holds out her hand to Cardan’s mother and is graced with the barest of shakes in return, “You may call me Ma’am.”

Ma’am?

“Of course, thank you...Ma’am.”

Mrs. Greenbriar gives Jude a long and thorough onceover, dissecting her with cold eyes as if she were a mere insect and the feeling is extremely disconcerting. She looks to Cardan for support, but he looks just as out of depth offering her a look of sympathy with the features that so resembled his mother’s.

“So, Judie, what exactly is it that you do?”

She stands taller and staunchly replies, “I’m a Homicide Detective for the 12th precinct.”

“Ah. I see.” The words reverberate with barely hidden disappointment and distaste and just like that she no longer pays Jude any attention, turning to her son and reaching out to possessively clutch his arm and whisper something in his ear which makes him tighten his jaw further before bouncing off, wine spilling over from her glass.

“That was my mother.” Cardan says, unnecessarily.

“Right.” Jude couldn’t help what but wonder about what sort of a childhood he would have had to endure. Perhaps his mother hadn’t always been so disparaging. It seemed that there was a whole different side to Cardan’s life that she’d never known about.

“She's - hard to explain. I apologise for her behaviour though, she shouldn’t have treated you that way.” He’s sincere, but there’s also an underlying note of sadness. The type of sorrow that you would feel if you were let down yet again by someone that you always gave second chances to. Her heart gives a pang on his behalf. Before she can reassure him he continues, as if desperate to push the subject behind them. “Anyways, let me go get you a drink, what’ll you have?”

To the side of the grounds is a long table covered with a white cloth with various bottles of alcohol lined upon it, their colourful glasses glinting under the fairy lights. Behind the bar there’s a bartender in uniform, smoothly mixing drinks to order as rich elites look on.

“Um, maybe a Martini?” She names the first drink that comes to mind.

“A Martini, huh? Dirty, perhaps?” His trademark flirty smirk makes a reappearance and Jude knows exactly how to handle it.

“Yup.” She pops the ‘p’ in what she hopes is a seductive manner. “Just the way I like it.”

His pupils seem to darken just the tiniest bit and his mouth makes a slight ‘O’ shape before he promptly turns on his heel in the direction of the bar muttering, “I’ll be right back.”

After a few moments of standing near the entrance, moving only to accept a smoked salmon canape from a passing waiter, Jude pulls out her phone from her purse to find multiple texts from Lil.

So? How’s it going?

If you need me to call and be your ‘family emergency’ so you can escape, I can totally do that, just say the word.

Jude

Judeee

You alive?

Biting back a grin she reassures her dramatic friend that she was definitely still alive. She’s just pressed send when she senses someone’s stare on her and something about it makes her skin crawl. She looks up and is met by the sight of a tall girl in a jade green V-cut and backless dress with vibrant blue hair. Nicasia.

“Why, Judie, fancy seeing you here!” Jude inwardly grimaces. Nicasia’s voice hadn’t gotten any less painful to hear since their last encounter. Standing in front of her now, she can’t help but think that she looked slightly ridiculous in all her fripperies, opaque pearls dangled from her ears and around her neck, gemstones glistening on her hair and cerulean eyeshadow that completely overshadowed the rest of her face. Strange to think that the last time they’d met, Jude had been plagued with envy, not even really knowing why.

She plasters a carefully manufactured, artificial smile on her face. “Nicky! What a delight to see you again!”

Nicasia’s face twists for a mere second before her cheerful and friendly facade is back in place. “Quite. Although, I can’t imagine how you’ve come to be here.”

Her words are clearly a question, one that Jude answers beamingly, “Oh, I’m here with Cardan. As his date.”

She watches as the blue-haired girl’s eyebrows fly up her forehead, unable to contain her surprise. Jude knows a moment of smug victory and Cardan chooses this moment to walk up behind her carrying two cocktail glasses in his hands. He stops right next to her, handing her a glass with clear liquid and an orange twist inside it before slipping an arm around her waist, sending a zing up her spine. What the hell did he think he was doing? She briefly considers shaking him off, before realizing that he was holding her this way for Nicasia’s benefit. After all, she was his pretend girlfriend for the night.

“Nicasia! How lovely to bump into you!” His smile is just as fake as Jude’s had been and that fact shouldn’t give her a moment of satisfaction but it did.

“Why hello there Car! Yes your mother invited me, wasn’t that sweet of her? And I was just talking to Judie over here, it’s been lovely seeing her again.” She brings a hand up to her neck and starts twirling a pearl necklace. “I didn’t realise you two were an item?”

Cardan holds her even tighter against him. “Well, what can I say, she swept me off my feet.”

He turns his face to her and gives her a subtle wink before molding his expression into an excruciatingly sappy look of affection, the kind that only existed in extremely cheesy early 2000s Disney movies. Suppressing a smile she returns the look to the best of her abilities.

“Aww, Honey Bunch, you are too adorable!”

Go big or go home, right?

Cardan has difficulty not breaking into laughter but he manages to hide the hysteric sound that leaves his mouth as a deep cough and if this charade went on for much longer she didn’t think she could resist cracking up either.

“Only for you, Kitten.” That almost undoes her.

Nicasia makes a low sound of disgust at their little act and barely bothers to make up an excuse for herself before stalking off, her stilettos clicking against the paved pathway.

“Oh thank God she’s gone, I was afraid that we’d be regaled with ‘Nicasia’s Trials During Sea Travels, A Saga; Part II.’” He’s referring to her last conversation with Nicasia when she had dropped by the precinct to drop something off for him and had ended up spending almost half an hour recounting her issues with sea-sickness. By the end of that half hour Jude had felt like clawing her eyeballs out.

She can’t help but laugh at both his comment and the recollection of their ridiculous masquerade and he rewards her with a look of astonishment, before a slow smile spreads over his face, eyes unbearably soft. “There’s that laugh.”

He’s referring to their conversation at Fair Folk Inks when he’d accused her of being uptight. The recollection should prompt Jude to make a snappy retort, but instead she simply swallows against the sudden lump growing in her throat and her heart is beating quick enough for her to hear. What on Earth was going on? This entire night had felt strangely like being stuck in limbo, her and Cardan shedding their competitive workplace relationship for one that was a lot more informal, a lot more together.

She takes a sip of the forgotten Martini in her hand, trying to push her errant thoughts away. Before she can think of a way to defuse the situation, the tinkling sound of metal being struck against a glass rings out through the night air.

Unnoticed by her, an elderly gentleman in a midnight blue suit that contrasted heavily with his bright blonde hair and owlish bronze eyes had stepped up to the podium. In his ring clad hands he held a wine glass and a fork, explaining the sound that she had heard earlier. Standing a little behind him but at his side is Mrs. Greenbriar, gripping a re-filled glass of wine. There also appears to be someone else standing next to her on the ramp, but the crowd around it is so thick that Jude can’t quite make him out.

“And there’s good ole’ Dad.” Her date for the night doesn’t sound at all enthusiastic about the appearance of his sire at the podium. “Looks like he’s about to grace us with an Eldred speech.”

And indeed, the old man waits until everyone is paying attention to him before he sets down the fork and raises his full glass in the air as he speaks. “Ladies and Gentlemen, as I’m sure you all know; since otherwise all you blighters wouldn’t be here,” there’s a slight smattering of obligatory laughter, “Elfhame Enterprises has recently undergone a lawsuit, which we came out of with a resounding victory against the Seelie Corporation, as everyone knew we would. Nevertheless, let us raise our glasses in celebration and as a toast to many more years of victories and resounding successes!”

United, his entire audience dutifully raises their glasses in a toast and downs the contents, Jude herself takes the smallest of sips from her Martini out of respect, although the alcohol tastes more bitter than before. She had never been a huge fan of these big businesses that bribed and blackmailed and pocketed money for themselves at the cost of so many others and she’d been a detective for long enough to cement that dislike. Then, she makes the startling discovery that Cardan himself had not raised his glass, nor taken a sip, instead, the hand that clutched his drink was doing so so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Before she has the time to question his surprising behaviour Eldred continues speaking.

“In regards to the many years to come for Elfhame Enterprises, well, as you all know I’m not as young as I once was, although I can definitely still party the way I used to,” more polite laughter,

“and it is very likely that I shall be retiring for good in a few years. Until that bittersweet moment arrives however, I am glad to announce that working right along beside me and learning the ropes will be my heir and the man to whom the running of my wonderful company will fall to...my beloved elder son, Dain Greenbriar!”

If a meteor had just flown across the sky and landed two feet away from her, Jude couldn’t have been more shocked than she was at that moment. Cardan had a brother.

She watches in slow motion as the previously hidden figure beside the now jubilant Mrs. Greenbriar steps forward to stand by his father. Unlike Cardan, Dain was the picture of his father, except 30 years younger. His blonde hair was light and shiny and his face was harsh and unforgiving, the angles seeming as sharp as a blade. His handsome but smug smile rubs Jude the wrong way, making her instantly dislike him. Next to her, Cardan wears a shield of uncaring resignation, but whilst she watches him watching his family, there’s an underlying sadness seeping from his countenance and she knows him well enough to detect it.

Jude had always taken Cardan at surface level, he was rich, came from a wealthy family with high connections and lots of influence and he was also a playboy. To her, that meant he had been given an easy life, one where he never had to work hard for anything and got a free pass into doing whatever he liked, so very different from the life that she had lived with her struggling single mother after her father had passed away during an accident at his forge. And now it looked like her disdain for his background had been unfounded. His mother seemed to only care about money and positions, his father was no better and from the self-satisfied grin on Dain’s face she could surmise that he was the golden child of the family, coveted by all and ‘overshadower’ of his younger brother.

The same younger brother whose existence his entire family and their friends seemed to have forgotten about.

Enough was enough.

She deposits her Martini onto a passing tray and does the same with Cardan’s untouched one which she wrestles from his tight grip, before reaching out to take his hand in hers. He tilts his head and considers her for a moment before surrendering with a slight shrug, his usual debonair sucked out of him.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” She drags him out through the entrance, not stopping to consider if any of the guests was watching them in the turmoil of congratulating Dain and his father.

The moment they’re out of the gates she stumbles into a nearby deserted alleyway, towing a bemused Cardan along with her. They come to a sudden stop right next to a streetlight, and unhesitatingly Jude plonks herself down onto the relatively clean looking sidewalk, with no regard for her new dress.

“Sit.” She pats on an empty spot next to her.

Cardan raises an eyebrow at her, before giving in and seating himself in the place she’d indicated. Her heel clad legs stretch out next to his feet encased by fancy leather Oxford’s.

“Talk.” She silently encourages him with her eyes.

“I-” He starts, then stops. Struggling to meet her steady gaze he finally bows his head and forces himself to speak. “I suppose you could say that my family has never been the most loving,” understatement she thinks, “and ever since the day I was born I was nothing like my big brother, he talked; I watched, he walked; I crawled and it was always like that. He would excel at school, I used to run riot with my friends. I always knew that they loved him more.

“When it was time for me to find a job, I knew that I didn’t want anything to do with the corporate world, I’d seen what it did to my parents and my brother and I wanted nothing to do with it. So I decided I’d do the exact opposite. I’d try my hardest to fight for justice and go against everything that my family stood for, corruption, money and power. That’s why I became a cop, why I enrolled at the academy, why I used my father’s blood money to pay the fees, so I could give back to the community in even some small way. Needless to say, my parents weren’t very happy with that decision.”

His words hit Jude like a volley of arrows. She’d been so very, very wrong about the man sitting next to her. This man who fought so hard to escape his family’s legacy. Regret rushes through her and reaches out for his hand and squeezes it gently, the way he’d done to her earlier.

“Cardan, listen to me, what your family thinks about you doesn’t matter. I wish that you’d grown up with parents and a brother who loved and treasured you the way you deserved, but you know what?

“I think you should be proud of who you are. Because everything that you’ve been through has made you who you are today; Cardan Greenbriar, a pretty smart cop - despite what I said earlier, it wasn’t true and I’m extremely sorry for it - and a partner who always keeps up with me and someone whom I wouldn’t hesitate to entrust my life to and the man who manages to charm everyone in the precinct with his magnetism.”

He’s squeezing her hand right back and his eyes are glistening suspiciously as they burn into hers. A shaky smile manifests at her last few words after which he looks down once again and mutters, “not everyone.”

“Huh?”

“Not everyone.” His voice is stronger now when he raises his head again, more combustible. “You said that I’ve charmed everyone at the precinct, but there’s one woman who appears to be immune, despite being the one woman that I’ve had feelings for for quite a while now…it’s you, Jude.”

She can hear the blood rushing in her ears as her heart thumps. He thought she was immune to him? So had she, she’d thought she hated him, but now she’s wondering if what she felt for him was so much more than hate. Yes, he had her hackles rising faster than anyone else did and his occasional arrogance was a never ending source of annoyance to her, but he was also the man who understood her when she was working overtime on a tough case, always bringing her coffee whenever she pulled an all-nighter, always making sure to inquire after her mother’s health, always making sure she had a safe way of getting home. So many times he’d helped her out in little little ways, disguising his kindness as him merely trying to get under her skin and now her oblivious self was finally starting to realize it.

He smells like pine and Cardan in the aftermath of his confession, and he’d called her Jude, not ‘Duarte’ and he had feelings for her and what she’s about to do next was something that she never dreamed that she would do before, and yet, it was somehow inevitable. She leans over and kisses him.

His lips are so very soft, like a feather, and the moment they meet hers she bursts into flames. This kiss was unlike any that she had ever had before, It was a forge-fire hot conflagration and she didn’t care if it burned her. The flame that had always been there between them is stronger than ever and it felt as though all this time the ‘hate’ burning through them had been hiding a much more powerful passion beneath it.

He brings his hands up to her neck and gently tugs at the bobby pins holding up her hairdo. She barely notices as they skitter to the pavement, leaving her brown locks down for him to pull at. She does the same to him, carding her fingers through his thick curls, curls that felt as sleek as a puppy’s fur against her questing hands.

Panting, he pulls away first and she has to force herself not to follow his lips with hers. Slowly she opens her closed eyes and looks at him, so close now that she can see the slightest flecks of colour in his dark eyes as his breath stirs her loose hair.

“Wow. That...wow,” he babbles, “I - we should date, that was, I mean-”

“Cardan?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

He does exactly that and later, when he asks her out, she has no answer for him but ‘yes’.

The End.

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

Liles, this fic was for you and I hope you enjoyed it. It’s been really fun getting to know more about you through our anon asks and answers and feel free to PM me anytime💕

Once again, I’m tagging: @cupcakesandkittens and @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

Please let me know (via ask or PM) if you’d like to be added to or taken off of my taglist!

#tfota #dd writes #the folk of the air #the folk of the air fanfiction #tfota fic #secretsnusband #jurdannet #jurdannet revels #header edited by me

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

Note

request: jaskier x reader enemies to lovers in which the reader is not a jealous asshole lmao

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 3,273Rating: TTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan @mycat-is-mylove @amirahiddleston a/n: Hey! I am a sucker for an academic rivalry and that’s the way I approached this. It’s really long but I hope you enjoy!

You took a deep breath before entering the classroom, plastering on a serene, professional smile. There were more students present than usual which only rankled further, knowing they had come here to see him instead of your usual classes. He wasn’t there yet (typical) but you were grateful. Walking in to see so-called Professor Pankratz beating you to your own class would have been more than you could bear. Then again, he was never on time for class when you were students so luck had been on your side.

“Good morning class, so nice to see that so many of you have recovered for your many ailments and just in time for a presentation for our guest lecturer,” you said. The students chuckled sheepishly and you fixed them with an accusatory look that melted into a smile and a head shake. They were just kids. It hadn’t been terribly long ago you were in their shoes and there were many times you wished you could have jut run off and avoided your responsibilities like others you’d known. Right on cue, the door opened and in strode Julian Pankratz or – as he was known now – Jaskier.

He looked practically the same as he had back then. Chestnut hair shorter and roguishly swept to the side but the same hue, golden highlights catching in the sun that streamed through the large windows. Smile quirked into the exact same cocky little grin, sky blue eyes sparkling with amusement, always on the lookout for a good time. His clothing choices had become more ornate but the same good quality they’d always been, him and all the other nobility thinking nothing of the clothes they wore or the fact that a single doublet would pay for a semester of classes. As he caught your eye a familiar look of smugness came over his features and you bristled. You’d always been academic rivals. You didn’t usually care about someone being smarter than you, most were anyway, but someone who swanned into Oxenfurt Academy, resting on his family’s laurels and roving around missing classes yet still somehow managing to give you a run for your title as Valedictorian was another matter. On the rare occasions he did deign to show up to class he’d usually be half-hungover, lacking all supplies, and yet teacher’s stopped calling on him to make an example because he’d always know the answer. Good answers, too. So no, you didn’t hate Julian because he was smart or handsome or well-liked or even because he was your fiercest competition in school. You hated him because he was all of these things and didn’t work for any of it and didn’t seem to appreciate its value. This position you held as a professor at a university that had been an impossible sounding dream for a child who grew up in poverty meant everything to you. But for Julian, it was just another honor bestowed on him. Hell, he was invited to teach today.

“Ah, Julian, right off time,” you said dryly.

“Professor Pankratz I think it is, Y/N,” he replied. You bristled and bit back a litany of oaths.

“As I was telling the students, Julian, you are here today to provide a guest lecture and if anyone has questions-” two dozen arms shot up in the sky eagerly, “They will wait under after the lesson.”

The arms retracted glumly but the students lit up as you stepped aside, giving the bard a space at the podium.

“Thank you, Y/N. You know, your professor and I go way back. We were school chums just like you. She’s always been incredibly smart. I mean, the record may show that she never could quite top me but she still gave me a good run,” he winked at you as he said the words and then gave you a wicked smile, like a child who knew they were being bad in public and didn’t care what would happen when they got home. You kept the same serene smile on your face like a mask and you spent the next hour and a half of his talk imagining the different ways you would use the historical tools of torture display in the history wing to wipe that smug smile off of his face.

—–

After the lecture (which was exceptional, damn it) Julian suggested the question and answer portion be done outside because it was “such a lovely day” and you “probably wanted to review your notes over his lecture to include in the class’s curricula” and they poured out of your class leaving you in blessed silence. You had to admit you appreciated the extra time to prepare for tomorrow’s class. You finished grading and even had time to clean the chalkboard thoroughly. You were gazing at it in admiration of a job well done when a voice popped up by the open door.

“Admit it, that was brilliant.”

Suddenly your good mood vanished. You cut Jaskier a sharp glance from the corner of your eye.

“The students aren’t here anymore Julian you don’t need to stick around,” you said coolly.

“Oh I know,” he replied, moving into the room further, “I thought I’d ask an old friend for a drink. Catch up properly since I’m in town.”

You scoffed and shook your head, turning to face him.

“We’re not friends, Julian. We never were and I don’t see why we would be now,” you said bluntly. He smiled at your words, not an unpleasant or false one, a genuine, nostalgic smile.

“Gods I’ve missed the way you never put up with my shit,” he said. You blinked at him in surprise.

“What?”

“Everyone else was impressed by the Pankratz name and my other, admittedly many, charms but you always saw through it. I think that’s why I tried to impress you so much. Hell, maybe it’s why I’m still trying,” he said.

“I thought you hated me, you were always a prick. And don’t try that stupid ‘boys torment girls they like’ bullshit with me because that’s bollocks at best and dangerous at worst,” you argued. He smirked.

“Oh no, you were a bitch. You kind of still are. But I’ve grown to develop an affection for bitches.”

“Get fucked, Pankratz.”

“Ooh not as eloquent as you were back in the day. What was it you called me that one time? As stupid as an ox and half as useful?” he quoted. You smiled in appreciation of your younger self’s burn.

“Come have a drink with me,” he offered again. Despite yourself, you were curious about what Julian had been up to. Sure you heard the rumors and the songs and knew he was a celebrity. But you also knew that the stories you heard about people rarely matched the truth and perhaps with enough ale and the right questions you’d get somewhere close to that.

“You’re paying,” you said, taking up your purse and getting out the key to lock the classroom.

“But of course,” Jaskier said in faux surprise, “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t treat the lady to drinks?”

For the sake of peace, you bit your tongue.

—–

“Alright,” Jaskier said once you’d both ordered your drinks, “Let’s get this out of the way. Ask me about Geralt.”

“The witcher?” you asked. Jaskier nodded, a weary nod that suggested he’d had this talk many, many times before. “I don’t really have any questions.”

Jaskier eyed you suspiciously, disbelief plain on his face but you weren’t kidding. You knew about witchers, had read many different accounts from believe who head varying levels of respect and fear towards them, but you didn’t really concern yourself with them. As far as you could tell their primary trade was killing monsters and you weren’t one so you doubted you’d have any dealings with them.

“People usually want to know what he’s like, if he has horns, does he eat babies, etc.,” Jaskier explained.

“Well those people sound… ill-informed,” you said tactfully, “I do have questions though. Not about Geralt, about you.”

“Me?” Jaskier sounded surprised.

“Of course. A classmate goes off and becomes a renowned bard and you don’t think I’m going to have questions?” you asked.

“You never showed much interest in my life or affairs before.”

“I didn’t have to hear about some new rumor about you every day from students before. Well, actually I guess I did. But there were fewer rumors of immortality and frankly based on how you look I’m starting to think those might be right,” you said, taking a sip of your mead and giving him an assessing look. He laughed and took a drink from his ale.

“Not as far as I know, no,” he said.

“But the rest is true, then? Touring the country, the bard with his pet witcher, wooing and rutting around the countryside with great aplomb?”

Jaskier smiled ruefully as he looked down into his drink, thinking about the portrait you painted of him, that had been painted while he was off. He could lie and tell you it was true but he had a feeling you’d know. As he’d said, you always saw through his bullshit.

“Quite the opposite, really. True my songs are well loved and I have successfully reformed many opinions about Geralt, if not witchers on the whole, but I am more often treated as the “pet” of Geralt. The human that follows him around. It’s… not entirely wrong but it’s also horseshit, you know?”

You were surprised by the vulnerability. This wasn’t the proud, blustering Julian of a decade ago. He was still there but there was also a maturity to him. It was deeply unsettling.

“That must be hard for you. You never did like standing in another’s shadow,” you said.

“I have little experience doing so. You understand,” he volleyed. You glowered at him as you took another drink. Yes, some things were still the same.

“And adventuring? How is that suiting you? You a natural at that as you were everything else?” you asked, a bit of bitterness slipping into your tone.

“Gods no,” he said laughing, “No I am… well, I’m better than I was, but I’ve also nearly died more times than I can count so that doesn’t speak to a great amount of skill.”

You felt a little guilty about how validating it was to hear Jaskier state that there was finally something even he couldn’t fake his way through.

“That must be very difficult,” you said, working to keep the satisfaction out of your voice, “Finding the one thing is this world you aren’t naturally adept at without any effort or work.”

“I worked, Y/N,” Jaskier replied, frowning at the implication, “I wrote the same papers you did.”

“Yes, but yours were written 15 minutes before class or turned into an improvised ballad performed on the spot and mine were toiled over for hours in the library and edited mercilessly. We are not the same,” you argued.

“Do you want me to apologize for being naturally talented?” he asked. You scoffed and shook your head, fighting the urge to throw the remaining contents of your cup in his smug face.

“No, Julian, I want you to appreciate that you’re talented. I want you to stop acting like you’re somehow superior and I want you to stop getting everything you want handed to you because you’re from a titled family and famous and never had to really worry about taking care of yourself,” you snapped.

“You think people took care of me?” he replied incredulously, “Y/N my family didn’t give a shit about me. Hell, I don’t know if they even realized I was gone when I went to school. Even the people around me at the university, I knew they didn’t give a shit, they wouldn’t have my back or stick around if I wasn’t constantly making myself useful to them. And you think that’s somehow different now? The witcher barely tolerates my presence some days and I have to work hard to find ways to be useful because I know that if I stop, even for a moment, he will be gone too.”

After he finished he kicked himself for saying it, waiting for a look of pity from you as you listened to him complain. Or contempt because even he knew that it could be worse. But you just nodded slightly, a look of understanding dawning on your face.

“Well. You’re still an ass,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. A wide smile broke out over Jaskier’s face and you couldn’t help but return it. He had that effect on people. For once it didn’t seem self-serving, though, just genuine happiness.

“So is that what you’re doing with me?” you asked, serious again, “Trying to find a way to be useful or charm me so you’ll have a contact back in Oxenfurt?”

“When you put it that way I sound so self-serving,” he scoffed, “No, Y/N. Frankly I don’t need you as a contact. I was invited to lecture here and I seriously doubt you were the one did that.”

You didn’t say anything, glancing awkwardly down at your glass.

“Wait… no… surely not,” Jaskier squinted at you suspiciously and you heaved a great sigh.

“Fine, alright I did. But only because very begrudgingly I have to admit you know what you’re talking about and this segment is hard for students if they don’t care about what they’re studying and nothing makes students care like hearing it from someone new and exciting and oh for the gods’ sake if you don’t stop grinning at me like that I will kick you,” you snapped. Jaskier didn’t heed your warnings, the grin overtaking his face and this time you could resist the pull to smile back. You crossed your arms in front of you in a huff, waiting for him to throw it back in your face, to make some snide remark about proof that he’s smarter than you after all.

“Thank you,” he said after a beat of silence. There was sincerity in his eyes, also unsettling, but also not a bad look on him. “I enjoyed it. I’ve missed the school, really.”

“I suppose it wasn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened in my classroom. Granted, someone was murdered there a few hundred years ago so the bar is pretty high for that honor,” you sighed. The rest of your evening passed quickly as you shared anecdotes and laughter. Before you knew it the tavern was closing and you were told to get a room or get out. Jaskier had shot you a suggestive smile but you’d rolled your eyes and told him he could walk you home.

“You know this is going to sound silly but I think… Well, I wish maybe we’d been friends in school,” you admitted, lips loosened by the mead and the newfound sense of comradery with the man walking at your side. He laughed, the sound turning to mist in the cool night air, and grinned at you.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said. Your face fell and you began to feel embarrassed.

“No, not because of you!” he explained quickly, “But I wasn’t really the sort of person I think you’d have liked back then. I mean, clearly, because you’ve harbored such a long hatred of me.”

“Hatred is a strong word,” you lied, “But you’re probably right. I could be a bit stuck up myself.”

“I’m glad that we’ve reconnected, though. Or I suppose, connected for the first time,” Jaskier said. You arrived at home sooner than you’d expected and you lingered at the door.

“How long are you in town?” you asked.

“I leave tomorrow.”

“Oh… with, uh, what’s his name?”

Jaskier beamed at you as though you’d just given him the finest compliment in his life. And in a way, you had. For once he wasn’t the one whose name was ignored and forgotten.

“Geralt. And yes, I told him I’d meet up with him. Onto the next adventure,” he explained. He was excited by the disappointment in your eyes, almost as excited as the fact that you weren’t yet going inside, perhaps even considering offering him an invite.

“If you want to come back sometime, to lecture and maybe get another drink with an old…” your voice trailed off as you tried to decide what to call what you were now.

“Colleague?”

“Friend?”

“Yes, alright, friend,” you assented, earning yet another wide, beaming smile from Jaskier, “I’d like that. If you have time. I know you’re very busy and important.”

You said the words sarcastically and Jaskier nodded and sighed heavily.

“It’s true, the world needs its songs. But I would be happy to come back again. And see you. And do my part to enlighten the youths of the world. And see you.”

“You said that twice.”

“I meant it doubly much.”

“Doubly much? That can’t be good grammar.”

“Gods, do you ever turn off?” he huffed in amused exasperation.

“Never, it’s one of my charms,” you replied, smirking. Jaskier moved closer and you were reminded of how tall he was. And broad. And handsome.

“I have half a mind to kiss that smirk right off your face,” he murmured, the pale blue eyes caressing them with his gaze.

“You have a half a mind period,” you sassed, a defensive reaction that struck when you were nervous. Most men were turned away by it, and you couldn’t blame them. But sparring was an old game for the two of you and Jaskier smiled, chuckling darkly before saying,

“Alright now you’re gonna get it.”

His lips brushed against yours, featherlight and teasing, and then swept back, a little firmer, capturing your mouth and pressing in closer, one arm wrapping around your waist and pressing you against the door as he slid his tongue through your slightly parted mouth. You sighed into the kiss and he gave a soft moan in return as your tongue found his, entangling and learning the warmth of each other’s mouths, the brush of teeth against lip, the taste of mead and ale blending in a heady mixture. By the time Jaskier pulled back you were both panting slightly. You swallowed hard and looked up into his eyes.

“Are you going to invite me in?” he asked, peppering your jawline with kisses. Your eyes squeezed shut and you licked your lips, summoning your will to be sensible.

“No,” you replied. His kisses stop and he pulled back to look at you, unabashedly surprised.

“No?”

“No,” you answered, “Go on your journeys, Julian Pankratz or Jaskier de Lettenhove or whoever you are or shall be. Go and then return to me. If you can do that, well… Perhaps.”

“I may die,” he intoned dramatically, though he made no move to continue his seduction, taking your words to heart.

“Then there shall be two great tragedies that day,” you answered in a tone that was just as dramatic, “That you have died, and that you never knew the pleasures of my body.”

He laughed, throwing his head back and then leaning in to plant another kiss on your lips.

“You’re a minx. But alright, it’s a date,” he said. You bit your bottom lip, fighting back an argument that it could only really be a date if they both declared it to be and really they had just agreed to meet up as friends but sometimes even you had to admit there was a time and place for being pedantic.

“It’s a date.”

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #jaskier drabble #jaskier fluff #jaskier angst #reader request #jaskier imagines

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

🎂 To Myself (Arashi Fukada)

[art by Lushia on deviantart]

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Birthday

Word Count: 1,655

Pairing: Reader x TYL! Arashi Fukada

World: Katekyo Hitman Reborn (11^ Famiglia)

Prompt: Valentine’s Day #4 by thefakeredhead

Author’s Note: I think this is the first time I’ve ever written for someone else’s original character, but it was super fun! This was written for @zeno290’s birthday featuring the original character, Arashi Fukada, created by @kiralushia! Arashi is from the 11^ Famiglia webcomic, which I highly recommend you read (webtoons | @the11thfamily).

Thank you for giving me the chance to write for one of your wonderful characters, I hope I did her justice! ^~^)/ I also feel the need to mention that I’m only on chapter eight, I believe, so I’m going by what I currently know!

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You stood in front of the mirror, readjusting the outfit that you were wearing to make sure you looked presentable. Today was your birthday and your boss was taking you and the rest of the family to a nice restaurant in order to celebrate.

You glanced at the clock. The reservation is set for eight o’clock and it was only just now turning seven, but you were feeling a bit worried because your girlfriend was currently in a meeting. The eleventh family was meeting up with a rival family so that their boss, Nozomi, could try and create peace between the two families. They had been at it for an hour already and something told you that they were no closer to finding a resolution.

Arashi was going to be late for dinner, you just knew it.

Your cell phone chimed from its position on the dresser, the familiar tone letting you know who was calling without having to check the ID. A smile came to your lips as you answered it, the cool glass against your ear. “Hey, Arashi. How’s the meeting going?”

“I want to shoot them all,” she huffed in annoyance. “These guys have zero respect for Nozomi!”

You chuckled as you pictured the face she must be making. “Just don’t get blood on your clothing. The reservation is for eight so you probably won’t have time to get changed.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t!” she laughed, the sound like music to your ears. “I love you for enabling me.”

“I love you, too,” you responded softly.

“Ugh, the break is over, we have to get back in.” She clicked her tongue, clearly not looking forward to rejoining the meeting. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N!”

“Okay,” you ended the call, sliding the phone back into your pocket. With one final look in the mirror, you grabbed your keys and left the apartment that you shared with the red-head.

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You stepped into the restaurant, taking in the quiet atmosphere. From what you could see, there didn’t seem to be any others inside and you briefly wondered if your boss had rented out the entire restaurant for the night. It was definitely something she would do for her beloved family.

The waiter smiled at you. “Hello! May I have your name, please?”

Upon giving him the information, his back straightened and his smile widened.

“Ah, the guest of honor! Please follow me.”

You stepped around the wooden podium into the dining room, eyes scanning the empty booths and tables. Candles lit up the room, their flames dancing across the walls like people at a club. Situated at the very back of the room to the right was a large round table where most of your family had already made themselves comfortable.

Boss was the first to notice you, hopping up from her chair and throwing her arms around you. “Happy birthday, Y/N!”

You couldn’t help smiling as you returned the hug. “Thank you, big sister.”

You settled down beside her as the others exchanged happy birthdays with you, asking how you were feeling and if your day had been kind to you. It had, of course. Any day that you got to spend just lazing around with Arashi was a good day, after all, but you spared them the details, simply letting them know that yes, your day had gone well.

When the last of the family had arrived, boss sent you a weary smile as the waiter approached to take the group’s order. “Do you want to wait on Arashi?”

You kept your lips in a firm line as you glanced at your phone. No messages or missed calls. “No, she will be a while.”

She didn’t seem happy about this but she nodded, offering you a smile and a pat to the shoulder. “I’m sure she will get here as soon as she can!”

“Is everyone ready to order?” The waiter questioned with a polite smile, pulling out a pad of paper and clicking the pen. Being the guest of honor, you were allowed to order first, choosing your favorite dish and drink before passing it on to the boss, who did the same. The waiter nodded once everyone had given their orders. “It will be out soon, I’ll be back with your drinks in just a moment.”

You tried to focus on the strange conversation that your family was having, but you found yourself staring out the window at the darkening sky, dotted with glittering stars against the dark velvet. Despite trying to keep yourself in good spirits, you felt a bit down. It was your birthday, after all, and yet the person you loved most was MIA.

You knew how much she loved Nozomi and the eleventh family, her loyalty unshaken no matter what happened and, while you would never make her choose between your love and the family, you still wished that she had decided to stay with you rather than running to her family. She didn’t technically need to be there for the meeting, Nozomi had said so herself, but Arashi had insisted.

The night wore on and your boss did the best she could to keep your mind off of your missing girlfriend by engaging you in conversation about various items. She tried to avoid family matters, no wanting to impose such things on your birthday, but it usually ended up back there in the end, not that you minded. You loved your family and wanted to do what you could to help your boss succeed.

In that respect, you could understand where Arashi was coming from and you briefly wondered if you would leave her on her birthday or not. So far, your boss had made sure not to bother you on Arashi’s birthday, so the situation had never presented itself to you. You couldn’t honestly say whether you would leave or not and that bothered you.

“The food was delicious!”

“Top tier, for sure~”

“I’m stuffed and ready for a nap.”

“Same here.”

As the boss pulled out her wallet to pay for the bill, which several of the members tried to dissuade her from doing to no avail, she sent you a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sure she has a good reason for not showing up.”

You nodded, not commenting on the subject. “Thank you dinner, big sister.” And then you turned your gaze to the rest of the table, where your beloved family sat, sending you smiles of love and respect. “Thank you all for coming, I appreciate you being here.”

“Of course!”

“We’re happy to be here, happy birthday again!”

“We got free food, too – ow! Why’d you smack me?”

“Idiot~ Happy birthday, Y/N!”

“Rude. I mean, it’s true, but rude.”

You chuckled as the two started to bicker back and forth playfully, your woes temporarily forgotten as they bumped into the table, tipping off the jug of water and creating a panic among the other members as they tried to stop it before it could run off the table.

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The apartment was dark when you pushed open the door, kicking your shoes off by the door. You were certain that you had left the hall light on so you wouldn’t come home to darkness, but perhaps it had slipped your mind. You used your phone to light up the hall, hand fumbling for the light switch.

It clicked as you flicked it on, but no light flooded the hall. With a frown, you flicked the switch a few times, but nothing happened. Had the light blown out? Wrinkling your nose, you decided you would fix it tomorrow, too tired to care at the current moment.

You feet padded across the wooden floor as you headed for the bedroom to change into more comfortable clothing, but when you opened the door, you felt your body freeze up. The room was bathed in the flickering of candlelight, daffodil petals scattered across the floor. Movement from the corner of your eye had your gaze shifting to the side where Arashi was standing up from the wingback chair.

You felt your heart pick up speed at the sight of her silhouetted in the soft light, her dress fitting her body perfectly as her red locks contrasted against the black. She looked like a goddess in your eyes, but she always did no matter what she was wearing. Even after dating for so long, she was still able to take your breath away.

Arashi smiled sheepishly, her cheeks painted with a soft pink hue. “I’m really sorry I missed dinner. Can you forgive me?”

The sour mood you had felt quickly dissipated at the sight of your beautiful girlfriend, a smile slipping onto your lips as you crossed the distance between you. “It’s okay, I understand.”

“The truth is…” she shifted, turning her gaze to the floor. “I didn’t want to go there with your family. I wanted you all to myself…”

“Why didn’t you just say so?” you questioned softly, resting your hand on her warm cheek, forcing her brown eyes to meet yours.

“Because,” she pouted, tugging on the end of your shirt. “I knew you’d stay home if I said something! And after your boss went through the trouble of reserving the restaurant…”

“You knew about that?”

“She told me she was going to.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around her waist protectively, lips finding her cheek as her hands clenched around your shirt. “You’re right, I would have stayed home with you. Big sister would have understood, you know. Next time, it will be just the two of us, okay?”

Arashi’s face lit up and she nodded. “Okay!”

With a smile, you brought your lips to hers, loving the way her arms wrapped around the back of your neck, his fingers clutching the base of your neck to deepen the kiss.

Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all~

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📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

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classof99 · 3 years

Text

INTRODUCTION

Someone, somewhere, likely with a vague spectrum of power and a cruel sense of humor, decided that forcing teenagers to sit through four long years of the unmitigated hell wasn’t enough. There had to be one last “learning” component before students were unleashed into the world – i.e., the commencement speaker...

Mom liked to remind me that I fell asleep during the commencement speech at my high school graduation.

She told the story often and with great relish.

I always knew it was coming at the holidays, because a twinkling lilt would bubble up in her and she’d touch my father’s arm and remind him that local celebrity real estate agent extraordinaire Gary Pace had been our speaker (yes, where I’m from, a real estate agent can attain quasi-celebrity status if he plasters his face on the side of enough public transit). My father would pat my mother's hand in return and shoot me an apologetic look. He knew what was coming.

“We could see him from the nosebleed! Remember, honey?” she'd say to dad, talking about me like I wasn't there. “He was just sitting there and all of a sudden – bloop – his little head drops to one side, and falls onto his neighbor's shoulder,” she said, volume rising, her half-and-half tea slipping over the brim of her glass as she slapped the table in delight.

She'd turn to me directly then:

“How did you manage to fall asleep? During your high school graduation, no less!”

“Well, if you remember I worked – ” but she'd cut me off, not really asking so much as wanting to retell the story.

“ – On, uhm... who was it again?”

“Brian Goodlow”

“BRIAN GOODLOW! That's right. What a lovely boy. Do you still see him?”

You see, what mom remembers the most was the scattered laughter of my classmates as I nodded off, causing Gary Pace to lose his place (we heard later he'd taken it as a personal insult that someone -- me -- dared not to be completely spellbound by the most didactic of commencement speeches).

Not that Gary would have cared, but I had a legitimate excuse. I'd worked the previous night until 3 am as a projectionist at the movie theater. Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace had just been released and I was working the midnight screenings.

I don’t remember exactly at what point I fell asleep during Gary's speech, but I do recall waking to find Brian Goodlow gently petting my hair. It was the closest we’d ever been despite always sitting next to each other due to the fact that our last name's occurred alphabetically.

Among the many things we suffered through that day, the most pandering may have been Gary Pace's self-aggrandizing speech itself:

“Dare to dream!”

“March to the beat of your own drum!”

“Live life to the fullest!”

The obvious mistake Gary Pace made here -- one shared by many highly educated alumni-turned-commencement speakers -- was that he should have known that high schoolers so close to receiving their diplomas are BEYOND learning anything new. Like, over it. They’ve spent the last 13 years absorbing every last detail that every well-meaning teacher could cram between their eyes and ears.

But what do we do? Each school invites a speaker, usually an alumni, and in our particular case, the indomitable and balding Gary Pace, to come give a speech to the bright young stars of tomorrow. He'll remind us that, decades before, he sat in the very same spot with the same ambitions we hold deep, and would serve up an onslaught of platitudes and non-sequiturs of what he'd learned since.

But we, as with most graduating classes, were a captive audience of malcontents, sweating profusely underneath our caps and gowns, generally unfazed by the generic one-size-fits-all life advice being hurled at us from notecards at the podium. I was very busy pondering that things that came next: freedom and what I could only hope would be an endless summer between me and the next four years of college.

We were the class of 1999 — the last graduating class of the millennium (also known as BCC: Before Common Core). Not since the class of 999 had there been so much self-appointed pressure for a class to “go out and do great things” – thank you, Gary, for that pearl.

While I’d like to believe that we all went on to do great things for ourselves and for society, I know it’s simply not true. Not to say that none of us did anything great, just not all nearly four hundred teenagers sitting in that auditorium that May afternoon in 1999 did. Some of us grew up, other didn’t. Some of us succeed and yet others failed and fell down. Some of us didn’t even make it far enough to note a difference.

To frame the stories that follow, please understand a few things (I’m looking at you Gen-Z)... The class of 1999 was born in 1980-81. We were the “Me Generation”, the tail end of Generation X. Latchkey kids who spent summers with MTV on while our parents were at the office. We microwaved our grilled cheeses on Styrofoam plates even though we kinda knew better. Smoking was still cool, kinda. We made it through high school without cell phones, e-mail or any relevant use of the internet which, in hindsight, has probably saved us all from a lot of embarrassment as adults. A weekend might involve a trip to the local music shop to, ya know, buy CDs. How downright old-fashioned!

But, perhaps most importantly, for the purposes of this story anyways, is that when previous generations graduated from high school, they genuinely lost track of each other which is what made a high school reunion so enjoyable. Discovering what became of everyone. Or what didn't. Today with social media, old high school acquaintances tend to circle each other in an uncomfortable, peripheral social media orbit for years and years after graduation. It's much harder to lose track of everyone, which is a true shame, because losing track of everyone after high school is a great and well-earned privilege.

As I sat there, in May 1999, at the end of my high school career, waiting to make my way up to the stage to grab my diploma, I took a moment to absorb the countless young faces around me. In a curious moment of reflection, I wondered what would happen to each of them. Would they achieve what, if anything, they sought to do with their lives. What ironies did the universe have in store for us collectively?

I catch myself remembering certain people at the most random of times – how they were then and what they made of themselves – and can only imagine what Gary Pace might have said about them. It's been my experience that the lessons you learn in real life are hardly close to the vague horseshit you’re lectured with at graduation. In fact, some time’s there no nice way to wrap up the experiences or expectations of life. Some times it just is.

After graduation, I went onto college and kept in touch with a few of my high school friends. We’d get together over summers or Christmas breaks, only to fall away from each other again afterwards. Even when we did get together, it wasn’t as if we were measuring how daring we’d all been, as Gary had suggested. We were just living our lives, however they came.

Most of my classmates went on to do what most adults try and do in the here and now: college, marriage, a few kids, maybe a divorce (but hopefully not), probably a 9 to 5. As it turns out, though, more than a few of my classmates had stories worthy of one of Gary’s platitudes.

Thanks to the unbreakable bond between Brian Goodlow and I, my mother’s general nosiness, and the burdensome genius of Facebook, Instagram, etc., I’ve managed to collect some of the more interesting stories from my class; stories about the things that actually happen after you graduate.

The following stories are true, almost entirely. However, names have been changed, identifying details have been tweaked and obvious things have been left appropriately VAGUE.

Stay awake. This time it’s worth it.

#class of 1999 #class of 99 #true stories #truestories #graduation stories #high school #high school graduation #class of 2020 #class of 2021 #Gary Pace #commencement speech #alumni

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cranehusbands · 5 years

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so... the happy together trailer huh. you know, when gearbox invited all to a celebration of togetherness, i didn’t know what to expect. news on sanctuary 3? or even the state of the missing borderlands2 vault hunters, perhaps? needless to say, this trailer is an absolute joy to watch. and even better, it allows for some great displays of character and relationship analysis between Flak, Amara, Moze and Zane. so i’m going to be doing that now!

tl;dr: this trailer is very good at showing the personalities of the characters, as well as their relationships with each other.

so i’m going to be conducting this in the order of the trailer, so here we go.

firstly, claptrap opens a chest to reveal what is almost a toy race track, complete with bandits and explosions, as Pandora should be. The camera pans through the chaos, and stops upon the new Vault Hunters. From here, the analysis begins.

Zane, front and centre, stops firing for a second to look back on everyone else, but specifically to Amara, before he starts dancing. From this we can infer that Amara is the ‘leader’ of the group, as Roland and Maya were of their respective groups.

As he goes about staring his dance, Amara lowers her gun and looks at him, as if to question what the hell he’s doing. She’s the first one to do this, with Moze dropping her gun off screen, and Flak doing so when they are again visible on screen. You may call this the Zane Tolerance Scale, in which Feral Grandpa annoys Amara the most with his antics, and Flak the least.

Again, Zane stops specifically in front of Amara, and holds his hand out as an offer to join him. Amara, in response, stares at him and puts her hand on her hip - she’s used to this from him, almost amused by this, as you can see by her smile there. This seems to imply that Amara and Zane are a sort of pair, and play off each other rather well (Zane with his more silly nature vs Amara’s more serious nature), with Amara maybe even enjoying it a little. Though she seems to have no intention of taking him up on his offer.

...so he takes her by the arm and makes her do it anyway. What’s important to note here is that Amara goes along with it anyway. I think this is absolutely adorable, quite frankly, and shows a more playful side to Amara.

The camera then pans over to Flak, and then we get a short solo dance sequence, along with their skag

They sort of.. hobble along, in a very pleasant way. Their skag spins around in doughnuts at Flak’s feet as they dance along. As we don't know much about Flak at this point, we can only really infer from this that they are rather happy and kind, especially to their pets as their skag is doing tricks!! how cute!!

The camera then does a flip, and now we’re on Promethea. We see a Spiderant and a Skag attacking bandits, and then we see Flak walking towards Moze wiht a rose in their hand.

They take Moze by the hand and she jumps and twirls around, a smile on her face, while Flak sidesteps alongside her. Like Amara and Zane, it appears these two are almost opposites of each other (Flak, seemingly calm and soft-spoken vs Moze, who seems to be more excitable and reckless).

And again, you can kinda see that Moze is absolutely elated, she’s so excited to be there, and Flak is her support. This is my favourite frame in the entire trailer, by the way.

After this amazing frame, Moze spins out of Flak's arms, and skips into Iron Bear. Flak jumps on the back of it, along with their skag, who sits snuggly on the back, tucked into the turret.

From here the camera spins to another scene (another planet - Eden-6?), in which Iron Bear absolutely destroys a collection of bandits. And then we see Zane, stood behind his Barrier.

He jumps and waves to Moze and Flak, happy to see them, as he dismisses his barrier. From here, he turns around, and summons his Digiclone and starts dancing with him instead.

Spinning around in a circle , with a big doofy grin on his face. Like... you can tell this man is a) a dumbass, and b) acting like half his age. God bless.

There's a really nice transition, and we get a solo scene with Amara. She’s dancing around a circle, on a planet we haven’t seen in a showcase as of yet (possibly Athenas?).

We get this blessed smile as bandits surround her. She looks around, and then shrugs her shoulders as she looks behind her. From here we can see her enjoyment of the wild side of Vault Hunting. She’s happy to be fighting these people. From here she casts a Phaseslam.

And again, after some smooth transitions, we get to the final scene, with the group on the podium. And this is where the final bit of analysis comes in, in how each person walks in a circle.

Amara struts very confidently, showing that she is a driven leader.

Moze marches around with her knees high, almost in a mocking fashion, both showing her military background and her playful nature.

Flak almost seems to waddle, showing them to be, for lack of a better term, Large And Friend™

Zane is almost leaning back and stumbling a little bit with shorter steps, conveying is sillier nature and perhaps his drunken tendencies, as established in previous gameplay.

And with that, the box closes, and the trailer ends.

So, in conclusion, I'm so excited to see what other kind of lore they can build for these four idiots. Not to mention, the push to show them as a close knit group is so much more than what we got before. Hell, they’re even called a family on the Borderlands website.

And now, all we can do is wait to see Flak gameplay in August, and then the game’s release on September 13th.

#borderlands 3 #zane the operative #amara the siren #moze the gunner #flak the beastmaster #:gun: reblog this i used a lot of my brain power on this #borderlands tag #dahl.txt

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