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cursedcola · 4 months ago

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Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde (Here) | Diasomnia (Here) A/N: HUZZAH YET ANOTHER SERIES FINALLY COMPLETE

Habits You Steal:

Heels (Developed): Malleus is quite tall. No, scratch that. He towers over everyone. The horns give him an added height that really sells the deal. Unless you want to crane your neck back and develop a hump? It's wise to start wearing heels.

Prose (Inherited): Malleus. We love his little riddles and mysterious aura . He obviously read the wrong script and came straight out of an early 2000s YA novel named 'Evermore' or something akin. Yet he quite literally cannot get to the point sometimes. It’s a Diasomnia thing for sure but he’s the worst of the litter. It's infuriating. On one hand, your vocabulary has vastly improved. If only he could rub off on Grim, Professor Trein would be ecstatic. The problem is that sometimes you lapse into an 18th century sonnet, and your friends give maximum shit for it. Especially Ace. No mercy.

“Apologies everyone, it’s now past twilight hour and both the prefect and I need to conclude our evening agenda. Please excuse our absence and continue to delight in the night’s festivities.”-> Dear god Malleus - just say you’re going to walk them home and that you’ll see everyone in the morning. The misunderstandings that come from using big words is worse than sounding improper.

Sleeping on your side (Developed): Malleus requires a special pillow to sleep and it's one of those long ones that is positioned center of the bed. Most nights he rests like the dead, flat on his back so his horns don't tear the cloth. Laying on his side is a challenge, but he also wants to be touching you. It's one of those scenarios where once someone who's touch starved gets a taste, they can't go back. So most nights you'll sleep on one side (doesn't matter which) with either your head on his chest or your arms wrapped around one of his. Oh yeah - you get to keep one of those fancy pillows in Ramshackle. It's stored in a spare room but grim steals it quite a bit since the quality is high. The nights Malleus isn't around, you'll wake up with Grim smothered in your arms instead. Guess the whole 'can't go back' thing doesn't apply ONLY to Malleus here.

Luck (Inherited?): Fae blessings are a thing - we have confirmation within a 'discussion' during the main plot. I won't say when to avoid spoilers. Point is, the partner of Malleus Draconia most definitely has fae favorability cast upon them. You could make a HEFTY deal with Azul if he ever found out, so maybe keep the knowledge in your back pocket for a rainy day. Maybe offer to sit by him during a game of poker? Haha, no. You're actually 100% unaware. Only other fae can sense a blessing, and Lilia isn't a snitch. Expect your luck to turn around. Perhaps not entirely, but enough for the grey hairs to stop sprouting prematurely. It's difficult for other fae and supernatural to sense who placed a blessing, but they can recognize raw power. There is only one person on campus with enough magical potency to cast such a powerful charm. All thy need is two brain cells to connect the dots (some do lack this, unfortunately). You won't be sucked into any messes such as the Ghost Bride, etc. anymore, at the very least.

"Hm? I've little to no involvement with the others in my dorm, dearest. Yet, is it not a good happenstance that they treat you with the upmost respect? Do other dorms behave so uncouth that you are wary of proper manners? Diasomnia would welcome you, all you need do is ask." <- It is technically not a lie? He's not explicitly making anyone behave a certain way, but surely the strong aura acts as a deterrent for anyone with bad intentions. It just so happens that most fae-born students reside in Diasomnia. Not that he'd take kindly to any of his acting like anything but proper gentlemen towards you. This includes Sebek, by the way. The tonal whiplash with this one is insane the moment he recognizes Malleus' magic.

Gargoyles (Inherited): There is not much to say on this topic. Malleus is the sole member of Gargoyle Studies, and while he won't force you to join? It would make him very happy. You will become accustomed to travel and find comfort in desolate places. The dewy chill in deep ruins, nature's overgrowth from time's passing - certainly Malleus revisits places he once knew held life, and have been left to deteriorate. You can't truly feel the heavy nostalgia as Malleus can, but the appreciation is still shared.

"I once deeply enjoyed the solitude of ruins. The weathering of time somehow captured in architecture. Trapped in place as the world continued to live on. Yet I now find more joy in sharing them with you, rather than basking in their atmosphere alone. It perplexes me, and yet I find no problem with it." -> Malleus discovered the happiness that comes from simply being near someone you love. He just...doesn't realize it yet? It's a difficult feeling to characterize in words. Different than with his family, certainly. The entire point of going to a ruin was to enjoy the abandoned atmosphere. Malleus cares for his family yet there is a divide. Unspoken, and unable to be crossed. His world turns while he remains at a stand still. Yet whenever he discovers a new ruin, he couldn't find that tranquility he used to. Enjoying it alone is almost unthinkable - harrowing. He can't without you, or else it feels lacking. Even if you sit together in silence, he'd be happy. He just wants you there, your reactions, your company - it brings life back to the emptiness. Leaving the place more harmonious than he found it, coating it with pleasant memories for future visits. Hopefully ones where he is not alone.

Habits He Steals:

Artistry (Developed): Malleus has plenty of time to develop skills. The resources as well. He's fearful that one day your memory will become just that - a memory. One where he cannot picture your face in his mind. Where he's the only one left who recalls your existence. Be it because you pass on, or decide to leave him prematurely and return 'home'. Even if he firmly believes that there is nowhere more 'home' for you than in Twisted Wonderland. Regardless, he doesn't trust others enough. He needs to capture your likeness on his own. With his hands rather than magic - even if using magic to do so is child's play. He does not tell anyone of this budding desire or disquiet in his heart. Not even Lilia, who's likeness is forever immortalized in textbooks. The unspoken implications are too much for Malleus to confront.

People Watching (Inherited): It’s a work-in-progress, getting Malleus to see people as…well, ‘people’ and not subjects or those he’s obligated to protect. To cure his social awkwardness, there’s a need to get him ‘loosey-goosey’ and in touch with improv. What better way than to people watch? Except you don’t just sit there with him to observe. Malleus is thrown for a loop when you start making up backstories for everyone - based on their clothes, what they might be doing, or whatever else. None of it’s true. The ideas are all super embellished and with characterization holes…but it’s fun, and it gets him to think about how specific a person’s life can become, whether they live a lengthy life or not. Something utterly pointless to do, suddenly becomes one of Malleus’ favorite pass times.

Earth Slang (Inherited): It's a give and trade scenario. He improves your vocabulary, while you do Lilia proud by being the newest gremlin on Malleus' shoulder. Rather than teaching him Twisted Wonderland slang, it's much more entertaining for him to learn Earth lingo. Which is different. It's our metaphors, legends, and phrases like 'it's raining cats and dogs'. You're going to talk in SpongeBob quotes to him and he's going to believe it's philosophical. How novel, indeed. He gets to learn more about you as a person, and you get to have a bit of fun while also fostering a language shared only amongst the two of you? Like a secret code that friends have, or lovers? Huhu. It's not hard to crack at all but still fun.

"Hm? An 'updog'? Is this another saying or legend from your world? No, I have never heard of an 'updog' anywhere in Briar Valley. What is an 'updog'? A terror of some kind?" <- Heh.

Domestic Tasks (Inherited): Be still Sebek's heart, because bro might need to be resuscitated. Malleus wants to help you. Except he's found a situation where there isn't anything he can offer? Sure, he can offer coin and trinkets. Anyone can. It also is not his place to insert himself and solve your problems. You're an independent human and he isn't foolish enough to overstep that. So? Acts of service, even if said acts are 'beneath' him. This revolves back to him simply enjoying your presence, no matter what. Since you come with him to enjoy hobbies, it's only fair he does the same. Now he doesn't fully believe that you 'like' cleaning, but it's what you do most. So he'll help hang the sheets outside and then cast wind magic so they dry faster. He'll set up security charms outside Ramshackle, and enchant the paint brushes to freshen up your fence while you both share a pot of tea on the porch. You seem happy, and even a tad amused. So he'll relinquish some pride. If only for you to smile.

“Do all without magic need to take such…’extreme’ measures to clean windows? Please do not perch on the sill like this when I am not near. Else allow me this task, a simple water spell is far more proficient and safe” -> Man catches you ONE TIME, leaning out one of the second story windows to clean the outside glass and his heart skips a beat. Not that you wouldn’t make a lovely gargoyle on the roof, but spare him. He cannot fathom why one of the ghost residents can’t do it in your stead, but Malleus much prefers your feet planted on firm flooring (who’s going to tell him about all the holes and weak floorboards in Ramshackle?)

Nicknames (Developed): Malleus ceases calling you 'Child of Man'. There are many other children of men. It just so happens to be his default when you met. You are more. Much more. Which is why you cannot be his 'Child of Man'. Malleus actually takes to calling you your name more often than not. Names are meaningful, after all. Yet he dubs you 'Mooncalf' as well.

“Mooncalves are beautiful creatures that inspire. A name given to ‘those who dream’. That is what you do, is it not? Dream, and bring novel ideas that spark life in others.”

Strength (Developed): This is quite difficult. Controlling his strength when touching another is like trying to crack an eggshell with a power-saw. Yet the more you are together, the more he desires to touch you. So he has to learn. Since if he ever injured you, Malleus would never forgive himself. Often he hovers near, guiding you yet never making direct contact. His palm hovering near the small of your back as you walk, or taking extreme care when holding your arm. He's broken more teapots than you can count, and it takes months to share a bed. The fear of hitting you in his sleep caused insomnia for days...just, goodness. Don't even start on his tail. That thing has a mind of it's own.

"Fascinating...Hm?. No, no. I am by no means upset. Quite the contrary. Could I trouble you to humor my curiosity with examples? Oho, this is a wonderful evening indeed." <- Malleus showcases one of his pointed smiles - chin grasped between thumb and index as he listens intently to his juniors go in great detail about how you've begun to resemble him. The one other students will shy away from, but little do they know just how genuinely overjoyed he is. At first they showed mild distaste for the Ramshackle Prefect daring to go after someone like Malleus Draconia, yet all know better than to admit such a thing to his face. Else pity the fool. Yet nothing could dour his mood, their formal report reading like a lovestory in his mind. It is not that he is 'naive' to your mannerisms. You are always changing - as are many - and he would not dare to make any assumptions. Yet if others are noting these subtle changes as well? Malleus is...overwhelmed. Joy, appreciation, humor, and a bit unsettled if one asked for full honesty. If you are admiring him, including him in your person, as much as he is to you? It's an intimate commitment that comes once in a lifetime for his kind. He needs to think, but for now he will enjoy the 'implications' as much as he can.

Habits you steal:

Light Feet (Inherited): The king of jump-scares, ladies and gentlemen. Lilia is quite the cheeky fellow. He wades through corridors, skulking around like a bat on the walls. Both body and humor seem to ascend to new heights with this one - who without a moment's hesitation will drag you into his schemes. You may not be able to float, but that is no excuse to clomp about like an oaf! No, my doves, the greatest joys in life come from a good thrill. Others learn to keep a keen eye out for this bat's lover, as you slink about and appear at the most random moments.

"Oho!....my, my - your stealth is improving by the day. Don't get too cocky now, else I'll be forced to show you how a professional jump-scare is done!" <- Leona KingScholar himself has threatened to stick a bell collar on you, those from Savanaclaw taking a step back as you begin to resemble the more worrisome Diasomnia residents by the day. Dropping from treetops and banisters aplenty, the trickster ghosts at Ramshackle love their new fourth (and fifth, counting the ancient bat who haunts the halls just as much as they do).

Impish Glint (Inherited): Kehehehe~ it's physically impossible not to mimic that mischief laden smile of Lilia's! It's not as intimidating without the fangs and blood-red eyes, yet still oh-so charming. Why, the bat himself finds it positively adorable. It's one thing to have others call him cute - he now gets to witness the effect first-hand. The fact others can point your resemblance to him is just an added bonus. All you're missing now is the pink streak in your hair...can he? It would make such a lovely memory!

"Well aren't you just the most fetching gremlin this world has ever seen. Come along dear, I want to stir some youthful envy!"

Nose Picking (Inherited): Just kidding lol.

Historical Info-Dumping (Developed): One can only be corrected so many times before learning a topic inside-and-out. History lessons are a breeze with a personal dictionary at your disposal. Lilia is happy to help, but get ready for long stories with his bias weaved in-between. He never outright lies though, and it's a fine evening to sit with him by firelight and talk the night away over junk food. Treat it like hearing the story of an elder veteran. Except Lila has hundreds of stories to tell. There will come a day where your knowledge abut Twisted Wonderland extends far beyond what you ever knew of Earth - and you are the person people come to for notes. Even the studious Riddle Rosehearts trusts your word-of-mouth as much as his precious texts (only for history though, fair warning).

Speed Dial Takeout (Developed): This one is self-explanatory. Lilia's curiosity in the kitchen isn't something you want to deter him from. Let bro live his life, so long as it doesn't lead to the end of yours. It took months to find the TWST equivalent of speed-dial Chinese, yet a slip to Azul along with some recipes was enough to get the ol' ball and chain rolling. The food already exists, but you just had to plant some ideas to make sure that 3am last-second-craving availability was indeed an option.

"Don't look so glum now - once the oven is fixed I'll whip up a batch of Silver's favorite Mushroom Bisque! Ah - there's no need to cry. Now where did I put those takeout menus...." <- Now it's just Lils, Silver, and yourself chilling out at midnight with some egg rolls and moo-goo-gai pan after the fourth oven's been blown up in the past year. Thank Seven Malleus worked a plan with Azul set up a chain in Briar Valley, else y'all would starved.

Briaran (Inherited) : Briar Valley is indeed a land of tradition. You don’t need to learn their language to converse with fae. Most people in TWST are Bilingual - knowing common tongue and that of their homeland. Plus there are spells to help. Very few speak the ancient dialect from hundreds of years ago, which dwindled out after the war between man and fae with the ushering of a new generation. You already speak common tongue, but as for Lilia? Fluent in multiple languages. Ancient Briaran being one he slips in from time to time. You will undoubtably pick up many phrases of Briaran. Especially when he converses with Malleus, Silver, and on occasion Sebek. The third still a beginner to his personal chagrin. It’s like being a child in an immigrant household where your elders talk in their native tongue when they don’t want you to understand the conversation, so as a kid you gradually put together meanings through context. Y’know, as they go in between languages.

"I hadn't thought it possible to fall fall deeper in love - yet as always, you continue to surprise me." <- Lilia never asked you to learn, but nothing makes him melt faster than seeing you pick it up. You’re listening to him. He won’t ever jest over this, no matter how tempting, afraid it might deter you. He adores the way you mumble words under your breath, even if they’re mispronounced. He will only interfere if you ask, and be more than willing to teach. Ask him.

Habits He Steals:

Walking (Developed): Aside from when he's cheeky and looking to have some fun? Lilia will not float near you. He prefers to walk, feet firm on the ground, his hand in yours and enjoy the sweet serenity. There isn't a need to rush. Not anymore. Strolls with Malleus are a commonly discussed subject, but with Lilia? It's less like a sonnet in steps and more akin to walking the streets on a cold, winter night. Plenty of laughter as your linked arms swing between. Somehow slowing your steps on purpose, drawing out the time shared. Even if your lungs hurt a bit and joints are stiff. You don't have to. He could easily zip you both wherever need be, but the journey is part of the fun. He's gone his entire life at differing paces - and now Lilia is happy to match his final gait alongside yours.

Repeating Others (Developed): This goes hand-in-hand with you learning Briaran. Without prompting, Lilia will often repeat things his sons just said in common tongue. Sometimes dropping context clues so you can piece things easier. Not in a way that makes it obvious for you (sparing your feelings), but definitely noticeable to others in the Valley. It's an unspoken understanding not to ask 'why' he repeats himself two maybe three times tops.

"...eh? Scuzele mele. Ne vom întâlni în trei ore pentru antrenament. Da. Pentru practică. Asigurați-vă că nu vă zăboviți, altfel veți rata antrenamentul! - why that face, Sebek? Careful or your muscles will freeze like that khee hee!" <- Does it come unnatural? Maybe, but two out of three of his conversation partners can usually pick up when you're struggling to understand something. Sebek fails, but wouldn't dare question Lilia's speech and risk offending him. Translation: "My apologies. We'll meet in three hours for practice. Yes. For practice. Make sure you don't linger, or you'll miss practice!"

Intimacy (Inherited): Lilia is cheeky with most, but not touchy-feely. Not in the way that matters. He becomes clingy. It's odd being with someone actively seeking to be at his side all the time...and yet he does not mind. Which is unheard of for the loner - he spent 700 years of solo trips, wouldn't change a single one (okay, maybe a few. He could do without some scars), but the taste of a couple's vacation? A couple's intimacy? Romanic candle-lit dinners atop the castle ramparts, legs dangling over the edge as mindless talk comes and goes. Hiking through mountains hand-in-hand. Running raids online, shouting at each other from the next room? Sipping mimosas on a cruise ship - picking out souvenirs for your family an tasting cuisine. Even if it's places he's been before...with you? It's all new.

""You know...it was quite cruel of you to leave me behind. When? On that little journey to Fleur City, of course! Be it ten years ago or not - I understood at the time that it was a decision out of your hands, and yet you hadn't brought me any souvenirs...the hurt lingers to this very day and can only be healed through another vacation, won't you be my guide this time around?"

Normalcy (Developed): Lilia actively pushes the cute bit with others. Many portray his character as two sides of one coin: Lilia the General, and Lilia the Cheeky Prankster. What you get to see is...just Lilia. Not even Lilia The Father - because even with his kids, he has a part to play. Has to set a good example. Is it corny to say that he doesn't have to act cute for you, because he trusts you'll adore him? Isn't that what love is? To truly release your guard around him and not stress? It's like how on earth we all have our work mode, family mode, public mode, and then...well, us. The person we are when in a quiet room, alone, and simply being. That is the Lilia you, and only you, get to see. Lilia wouldn't get involved with someone that couldn't bring this side out of him. The one jamming out to metal while pretzeled on the ground, sifting through his wardrobe and eating burnt crisps out of a bag with chopsticks.

Time (Developed): In his last hundred years of life, with his magic dwindling, Lilia casts a glamour that lets him physically age with you. Not technically a habit, but also something he would never have spared the energy on without you as a deciding factor. Time comes for us all. He’d rather not emphasize this to his sons more than necessary…but they’ll watch you age. In an odd way, this is Lilia’s greatest ode to you. To them. To himself. You won’t have to age alone, watching him in a standstill as he’s been the past 700 years. This is his final thrilling experience, his final adventure- to grey and feel time in his blood beyond magic.

"You are as lovely as the day we first met, dear...surely I'm just as cute too, no?" <- No matter how quick you reply, he still is the same cheeky lil shit at 780 as he was at 700. Only with one heavy case of arthritis.

Nicknames (Developed): Lilia calls you ‘Dove’ for reasons best derived on your own rather than my telling. He will also be an ass and use teasing ones like 'shnookums' and 'poppet', but dove is for the softer times. On very rare occasions he will say ‘inima mea’ which is Romanian for My Heart, also known as Briaran in the world of TWST.

"Why, thank you! Kee hee hee, is it so obvious that I adore my little dove beyond comprehension? I've finally found my 'partner-in-crime' as you kids say, and my days have not been this lively in many years. Humor the musings of this old-timer, enjoy the blessings life offers while they are within your grasp." == Those who have lived as long as Lilia in Briar Valley are witnesses to his personality change. The general from hundreds of years ago is not the same bat flying about. He's a prime example for fae and humans alike that time changes us all - and so he doesn't mind popping in to humor gossiping soldiers. If anything, he hopes his open adoration serves as an example that it's never too late to welcome sweeter things in life. Family, friends, adventure, and even the once in a lifetime 'eternal love'.

Habits you steal:

Calling Lilia ‘Dad’ (Inherited?): Not Father. Just Dad. Daddio. Peepaw. Pops. Ye old man. So informal. So funny. Lilia loves it and Silver turns red every time. One? Because you’re already thinking of him and his Father as your family. Two? Please. Please, let him breathe. Flustered is the most consistent emotion he shows aside from that graceful little smile of his, and people are starting to notice. He’s not used to such bluntness and it’s killing him. You need to be more careful! Not everyone knows about his situation! Lilia is such cheeky as shit over it and teases his son every off moment. Welcome to the Vanrogue’s, my friend. It’s a clusterf*ck. You’re going to love it.

“…N-no, I haven’t seen father since lunch. Perhaps check over near the club rooms. I can escort you before my next lesson, come along and take my hand.” -> Silver will never get used to you asking ‘Hey, have you seen Dad anywhere?’. He bites back the warning for you to lower your volume. It’s turmoil - truly. He doesn’t want you to ‘stop’ per-say…but maybe keep it in private? He adores your energy but the rumors.

Compliments (Inherited): Silver gets plenty of compliments. He’s amazing, after all. This is a habit because his reactions are priceless. Why is it developed? Because the man in question is the most wholesome being to exist. He effortlessly drops one-liners out of thin air, and then has the gull to act confused when you clutch at your chest. Silver is brutally honest when it counts. His words and his reactions are genuine. Truly priceless. His confidence desperately needs that bolstering, so much that you never go a single visit without paying him a compliment. It’s only fair. You do it until he takes them with anything other than a pass off or a denial. Even after, because appreciating Silver is the best part of your day. Congrats. You’re a simp. Big Ol’ simp - side note, being so forward for his sake has turned you confident in other aspects of life as well. Congrats on being the social one.

"Your hands are unnaturally soft for a student. Perhaps I am used to callus' from training, but yours are warm enough to feel through my gloves. I heard once that you can tell a lot about a person by their hands. Yours must reflect a gentle personality, which is true - hm? What's wrong?" <-Wholesome. Fucking wholesome.

Animals (Inherited): How do you feel about woodland creatures? Would you consider raising bunnies, or leaving the window open in the mornings for songbirds to perch? The answer is yes. Always yes. Otherwise they will whack at the glass until you do. Silver is beloved by nature. Being around Silver means being around all the animals that perch at his side when he clocks out in random places. Eventually you'll be waiting with birdseed in your pocket, prepped to distract those that perch on his head. Ramshackle has multiple bird baths out in the gardens, and you've built shelters for the wildlife on campus to camp out in when they visit (always when Silver does. Coincidence? No).

Just Chilling (Developed): Not relationship-exclusive. Any time you find Silver clocked out, it’s instinctual to just drop everything and lay down next to him so it looks like you’re both chilling out. Doesn’t matter if he’s asleep for ten minutes or two hours - you don’t leave him. Not unless someone trustworthy comes to take your place.

Haircuts (Developed): A lil snip here, a chop there - and you're cutting his hair in the kitchen at 9:00pm with one of the old sheets tied loosely around his neck like a bib. All it took was one time for him to nick his ear while doing it himself, and you so graciously forced him in a chair. Now you cut both his and his father's hair. Since Lilia's a little turd, and if Silver gets a freebie than so should peepaw. Briar Valley could use another stylist, y'know. You already have two loyal clients!

"Thank you. My bangs can get in the way of my training, so I try to keep them short. Maybe I should adapt a cut similar to Kalim's?....Why are you looking at me like that?" <- Kalim's hair is adorable, but if Silver cuts off his shimmering silk-soft locks it will literally be a crime against cosmetology.

Alarms (Inherited): You sleep through alarms. There isn't much to say. Have you seen his bedroom? There's like - a dozen clocks in there. The only one that gets him up is you, usually whacking him with a pillow because no amount of love will ever make up for dealing with nonstop ringing every morning. You started off having a near heart attack on the first night. A few years down the road, and it takes about 2-4 of the clocks to go off before you're up.

The Way Of The Sword (Inherited and Developed?): Another one without much to elaborate. Silver insists on teaching you some swordsmanship. He does not play around either, and is a very stern teacher. Lilia engrained the danger of weaponry and battle into him from childhood.

"Steel your nerves. They will only impede your progress. Do not worry about anything other than my instruction while there is a blade in your hand. I am here for that." <-The sword exists to protect, but that does not mean you are invincible. He won't put you through a Knight's training - but as one of the few 'sane' people? Homie, you really need to learn some self defense. It isn't even about his feelings (although he does worry).You are a walking magnet for bad luck, and a firm understanding of defensive combat is necessary so you don't end up dead in a ditch.

Habits He Steals:

Wet Wipes (Developed) : It’s so tempting to draw on Silver when he’s complete zonked out in the ninth dimension. How he hasn’t woken up to any uh…hehe, ‘special’ and ‘totally not vulgar’ images all over him on a daily basis is an honest shock. Especially in a campus full of dudes. Some not so friendly with the whole dorm rivalry going on. Then again…maybe it’s his aura. Drawing a dick on Silver’s forehead feels like a crime punishable by Lilia’s homemade gazpacho.

"...I sense a disturbance." <- Regardless. It’s your civic duty to make him a work of art…much to Silver’s reluctant compliance. Some day’s it’s heartwarming. He’ll wake up and find little hearts on his cheeks, or a note on his collarbone. A lipstick kiss left smack center of his forehead…which takes endless scrubbing to get off before equestrian club. "Mngh...ah, you're here father? I could smell jasmine and oakwood and thought - wait, isn't that MC's pencil case?" <- Other days Silver wakes up covered in tic tac toe games with his father snickering over him and your form making a speedy guilt-ridden retreat off in the distance - and yes, Ramshackle smells of Jasmine and Oakwood. From repairs and the herbal cleanings.

You’ve Got Mail (Developed): Squirrels make good messengers. It helps that you live in a dilapidated dorm with a lovely forest not too far for them to skitter about. It would be troublesome if you lived somewhere like Heartslabyul…Riddle would never allow Silver’s animal friends to stay. Since you’re so open to suggestion, and skittering about yourself, he’s made a habit out of using the animals for communication.

"Please take this gift to them, would you? Today is a special day, I must take precautions not to forget." <- He’s not too big on phones since he might pass out and miss a call…or forget. So Silver likes to pen his notes when he can and trust his little buddies to make sure you get them. It especially helps with big events like anniversaries or days he cannot make it home.

Mints (Inherited): Someone get this man an Altoid, stat. Whatever curse is on his ass, crack open that tin and shove three strong peppermints between his teeth. They’ll spark more than just a crack of the great beyond in him. Giving Silver a tin of strong mints is like giving a Victorian child one singular sour patch kid. You carry the things around to punish Grim. Y’all know it’s bad if the living garbage disposal won’t even eat them….now if we could just somehow compress Lilia’s cooking into a pill form, we might be onto something bigger.

"This is a remedy from your world? Oh - it's candy? Maybe it will work then...thank you. I'll update you if there are any changes."

The Open End (Developed): Silver’s precautions extend to all matters, big or small. He’s trained to be Malleus’ guard since he was a little boy, going through strict training and beyond in order to match royal standards. Some might think him cold, but his father raised him to care deeply, truly, and so he is proactive in ensuring your comfort. When at the cinema, he sits in the inner seat. Both so he’s blocking you from strangers and so you can have the chair with two arm rests. He walks on the street side of the sidewalk, shares his umbrella but covers you fully at the cost of his sleeve, gives you more of the blanket at night and once gave you his shoes when yours were pinching your toes. If there are two cupcakes, he pushes you the one with more sprinkles, and he never forgets to ask how your day is.

"Are you happy today?...I see. That's good. I've been working hard to not disappoint you as a partner. It is nice to know my efforts have been yielding results." <- Ever the hard worker. Silver works on your relationship like it's training - but not in a bad way. He just doesn't want to reflect poorly on you, especially when this is new to him and tracking his performance in a relationship isn't the same as studies or physical training. He could do with some verbal affirmations, just saying.

Smelling Salts (Developed) : Silver does not want to sleep all the time. He is determined to overcome it - and you support him by suggesting method after method. Sometimes it takes an otherworldly person to bring in new ideas? Another cook in the kitchen, y'know. Can you believe that in all of Twisted Wonderland, with their fancy shmancy potions and charms, no one thought to get him military-grade smelling salts (or trigger his fight/flight by putting a bit of Lilia's pot roast in front of his nose)? His curse is potent, but it staves the episode off just enough for him to get to a bench or out of a clearing. I swear - magic spoiled these people. It's a blessing and a curse. It's no cure but he'll take anything at this point. Who knows what other ideas you might bring.

"Mm...thank you. I am lucky to have someone as wonderful as them in my life. I strive to be a good partner and influence. Your compliment makes me quite happy. I will be sure to pass on the message." <- Silver's expressions are typically difficult to read, they're so miniscule. Yet it would take a blind man to miss the way his disposition softens. One might mistake the far-away look in his eye for an incoming siesta, but no. He's merely in love and excited to tell you how appreciative he is to have you in his life. Whatever dreams he has that night, you're in them. As always.

Habits you steal:

Volume (Inherited) : Spoken like a true Queen. Literally. Sebek’s volume blasts your eardrums like a child’s screech plugged into an amplifier broadcasted over the Night Raven intercom. Mans has his vocals, there’s no doubt about it. The thing is that Sebek won’t stop until he’s been heard, so you have to get loud for him to listen. That can be hard to tone down when he’s not around, and you have to remind yourself that Epel will hear you just fine at a level 2 not 6.

"Disrespectful! My human can speak to their desire, apologize for suggesting otherwise this very instant. It is an honor to hear their voice!" <-Aye...sometimes your volume hits the frequency where people cover their ears, just as they do for him. He misinterprets this as a smite on your freedom of speech.

Gotta Keep Up (Developed): Get those legs moving prefect. Ya gotta go sonic fast. Sebek-y long legs over here moves in big strides. Big strides for his big personality. One of his steps is the equivalent to three of yours, no matter how tall or jittery you are. He will out jitter you with his Type-A pacing. You’d think he was on a mission and not on a date with how Sebek zooms through a shopping mall. Sebek, honey, we’re here to buy clothes, not race the evil sales clerk and save Malleus from the storage room.

Bookies (Inherited): You never know when you’ll be stuck waiting around or following Malleus with him. Sometimes it’s a sacrifice you have to make for some quality time together, and it’s not so bad. Malleus is cool with it, Silver’s good company, and Lilia is mildly stressful company. You could just go on your phone to pass the time, but Sebek limits your screen time. No IPad partners or brain rot on his watch. Read a book. Don’t make him quiz you, ‘cause he will.

"I have been thinking to start a book club, and you can be the first among many initiates! This week we will be reading My Liege's autobiography as sourced from the Royal Palace. I can think of no better introduction!" <- Dear god, he'll put in the request too. Stop him. You love Malleus to pieces but 600 pages on his birth alone is just destructive.

Prim and Proper (Developed): It’s a bit hilarious that he takes personal offense when you’re not groomed properly. Especially when near Malleus (of course). If you want to follow with the troupe, you need to look the part. He’d likely ask for a Diasomnia uniform on your behalf if it wasn’t against the school dress code. Secretly though? He enjoys fixing your tie, hair, etc. It makes him feel useful but that sweet emotion gets masked by a scolding.

"Tsk. It is an honor to wear this uniform. You should take precautions to ensure your appearance doesn't reflect on Lord Malleus. As his chosen friend and my partner, you are a representative of Briar Valley. Step forward and allow me to preform an inspection." <- Sebek has more than one jealous bones in his body. They’re all jealous bones. Make sure he’s the one to fix your tie and not Rosehearts, unless you want him to sulk.

Battery Pack (Developed): Lowkey? Sebek zaps you frequently. Think the electric buzz from pulling out a plug too quick. The sparkles come out when he gets very emotional - which is all the time. So…yeah, you might secretly carry ointment for that. Don’t tell him? He feels awful. Not awful enough to stay calm when you ask him to charge your phone. Jokes on him. The anger zap brought it to 100%.

Habits he steals:

Response (Developed): Sebek has this teensey-weensey annoying habit of answering on your behalf. He thinks it a way of proving his devotion. Partners are meant to know each other down to the tiniest detail, no? So when he responds correctly, it’s like he’s passing a test by knowing exactly what you’d want.

"They will do no such thing! Your childish antics will only reflect poorly on your dormitory. You will not taint them into participating in needlessly reckless activities!" <- While his intentions are pure, the act itself can be frustrating. Especially when he puts his values in your mouth when chatting with friends. It’s a work in progress, but he will still become overzealous to order your coffee or recall your schedule if asked.

Handkerchief (Developed): Exchanging handkerchief with one’s partner was a popular courting method in the past. Considering the handkerchief Sebek carries is meant for his lord, him offering it to you is a grand gesture. Especially since he does not replace it with one meant for Malleus, as this is something exclusive to lovers, and carries one from you instead. If you don’t have one? Well - expect to get one asap. Author’s authority dictates that you will not disappoint him.

"The embroidery on this handkerchief is exquisite. According to Master Lilia, it is the same style as lacework from my homeland's establishment...and it is yours. Please accept this as a token of my affections."

Portrait (Developed): Sebek keeps your picture hidden at NRC. There's one stuck between his mattress and the boxboard, one behind his ID card in his wallet, and a small portrait he keeps taped under his deckchair. He cannot properly display it like Malleus' - partially from not wanting to disrespect his Lord and partially from bein emotionally constipated. Expect the exact opposite when he is older though. Listen. Do not try to tell me this man wouldn't commission an extra-large oil painting of his spouse to hang up in his barracks room in the palace. He's literally the blueprint of a fanboy, and if there's no available merch then us nerds get to commissioning.

Escort (Developed): Sebek Zigvolt can and will sit in the husbands' chair while you try on clothes in the store. He will carry your bedazzled hot-pink purse with pride, guarding the thing like it's worth millions. You can leave your cup with this one when at a ball worry-free. You have somewhere to be and he isn't on duty? Sebek is hot on your heels. He has no shame. Better yet? He's the one shaming anyone unable to do such simple things.

Gotta Slow Down (Developed) : Pairs with 'Gotta Keep Up' as he tries to match your stubby legs. At first Sebek attributed your slow pace to a lack of stamina, but no. He's just a jitterbug. Obviously he can't tug you along or stop every other minute for you to catch up either. It's funny watching you both try and forget to consider the other. On loop, a never-ending cycle. NRC hasn't seen a pairing like this in centuries.

Chivalry is not dead (Inherited...just not from you) : Lilia fucks with him and you’re subjected to many, many odd courting attempts…some he unironically takes a liking to.

"What must I do for you to reciprocate my intentions?! I have bestowed pearls shucked with my own hands, invited you to dance under moonlight, hung dried thyme over every door and given earthly offerings to all your kin! I implore you for transparency this instant!" <- Oh...oh, His trust in your batty elder wanes for months after being tricked so cruelly. Only until you accept (out of pity?). Then he feels guilty for ever doubting Lilia and begs for forgiveness. At least life never gets boring? Haha...hah...ha...

‘My human’ (Developed) : Sebek gets hit hard with a crippling awareness for your mental well being. He defended your 'honor' once and had it thrown in his face that he calls you a human more than your own name. Old habits die hard, and he prostrates himself on the ground as an apology. He really didn’t realize it came off so derogatory. Especially considering your relationship. Felt awful. Apologized profusely. Only says it in an affectionate way or with pride now. Tacking in the ‘my’ makes it better somehow? It's a work in progress.

"An apology is in order. My actions until now were unbecoming, and I am truly repentant. I cannot begin to beg for forgiveness, knowing that my words have struck you. I was wrong. You are no mere human, you are my human. A very special one whom I could not have foreseen in this lifetime" <- You know it's bothering him when he takes a gentle tone, looking directly in your eyes with shame open on display. Responsible enough not to look away and face his wrongdoing in the face. Even after you forgive him, Sebek will carry this lesson with him forever.

Flower preference (Inherited): In the language of flowers, which means a great deal to fae kind, he goes for the one associated with your birth month. Carries a pressed one as a bookmark, changes his cologne, and places a vase of blooms by his bedside that never seem to wilt.

"It is an honor! I shall never cease striving to improve. It is only natural that my partner does the same. Your acknowledgement is noted and appreciated. Please continue to treat them well." == Insulting Sebek is a challenge. The comment could be made with the most nasty undertone, but he only hears that you're behaving like a model citizen. You must, if you are beginning to resemble him in so many ways. Hearing that you are a positive influence on him is nothing short of baseline knowledge. Of course you are? He picked you to be his partner? Honestly. If people have time to sit around and gossip, they could go do something more productive.

Habits you steal:

Acronyms (Inherited): Does this truly come as a shock? Big L on your part if so. C'mon, this is Idia we're talking about here. Bro cannot go two sentences without pullin' some quote out of his mental backlog. Since you're stuck in TWST, not watching their culturally founding shows and cartoons is a crime. You'll be speaking in pseudo-lingo like how Spongebob quotes make their own language around these parts.

"Whehehe way to debuff your charisma stat - you might want to craft some mimic gear before Professor Trein locks ya in detention....n-not that I care! It's just that I'll have to solo tonight's raid and you're the one with the rotation buffed character!" <- On one hand? You get all his jokes and are able to translate what he says to other people. That's good. Less work for Idia. On the other hand? You get all his jokes and are able to translate what he says to other people. They're totes going to make fun of you now and it'll be his fault. You'll get lingo-lashed by professors and feel burdened and - okay. He'll shut up now.

Evil Laugh Who? Villain Where? (Inherited): We all know Idia has two modes: nerdy and sofuckingarrogantheneedsacoldshower. You know exactly when he's feeling number two via his laugh. That over boisterous 'WHEE HEE HEE' which is way too high pitched to belong to a villain but perfect for when Idia's in the zone. It comes out when you're feeling especially ecstatic or embracing your inner gremlin. A bit more subdued than his, but you've seen him do it so many times that the adaptation is subconscious.

"Ah -?! What w-was?....No! NO I DIDNT SAY ANYTHING! Just hurry up before we gotta interact with more NPCS! Awahhh my blood pressure's already spiking back up..." <- He first caught it when you insisted on playing one of those cheap festival-games outside the main market in Fleur City. All he wanted was to grab a grape juice and get back to his group before they noticed he ditched, but you saw some handstitched plushies and just like in some mainstream otome, he just had to get it for you. It was easier than sitting there watching you get cheated by a sleaze. He was amidst convincing himself that he robbed you of the fun, handing the doll over while sucking down his second grape juice when he heard it - on one hand, is this what he sounds like to other people? Scratch that. No way he's this cute - wait. No. He didn't just think that -

Gatcha (Inherited): One of Idia's go-to hangouts is playing an MMO. The dude already gave you a console as a gift for what happened at S.T.Y.X. One inkling of interest towards one of his main games and he won't hesitate to build you a PC. He'll take care of the maintenance and even send over some matching accessories. Ortho will be the one to drop it off of course, but it'll already be set up with whatever games he thinks you'll want to tag-team in and some extra money to explore on your own....and thus, the addiction begins.

"Hey, press this button for me real quick. I need to test something. N-no! I'm not setting you up, uggh just do it would you?" <- Your pulls are better than his and Idia can't decide if lady luck is smiting or blessing him. On one hand? Ultra rare pulls are going to a beginner account. Yet you're more likely to keep playing this way....fate truly tests the Shroud name every day.

Night Owl (Inherited and Developed): Freedom...is powerful. As the Shrouds are responsible for Blot Control, you're left with little to do at S.T.Y.X. You can work anywhere in the facility. As a lab assistant, tech maintenance, heck even the kitchens if you want - but Idia's on that night-life and likes to work when most are asleep. So you match it. Maybe not to a T - going to bed at 6:00am and waking at 4:00pm like him - but time does get a bit disoriented in a place where the sky is simulated.

"Why're you still up? This isn't a 24hr stream, y'know. Even I'm not crazy enough to do multiple all-nighters in a row...well, I'm off for now. Wanna watch the PREMO concert from last week with me?"

Vitamins (Developed): You take them. Idia is taking them. No matter what bro says - he cannot live off the Ignihyde snack machine. Get him the kiddy gummies if you have to. You started taking vitamin D in preparation for moving to S.T.Y.X in the future. Surely they've got something better than the options at Sam's, but you won't be developing Seasonal Affective Disorder anytime soon.

Snacks (Developed): A very simple kindness. Idia uses deliveries as an excuse to get you to visit Ignihyde, and in the future that doesn't change. Expect calls to do deliveries around S.T.Y.X and run 'confidential' reports whenever he's antsy for a visit. We all know he won't explicitly ask...ah, it's reminiscent of all the bogus orders he'd put in at Sams so you'd stop by.

Habits he steals:

Financial 'Responsibility' (Inherited): You both are very bad with money - and by bad? I mean that Idia is a jerk who thinks he can solve everything with money. Minor red flag - something to address. Definitely the type to apologize by sending an unnecessarily gigantic stuffed bear or something akin since he's afraid of saying something that will make it worse. Then pray you don't say anything as he stews over a fight like 12hr simmering sauce.

"Please spare me your double-standards the next time you're shoving vitamin water in my snack stash. SRSLY, Headmaster's a worse deadbeat than I thought if you're living like this....uh, don't tell him I said that" <- On the flip side, he's also flippant with that Shroud inheritance and will buy stuff on your behalf all the time. He's the type to go 'Oh, I thought it was going to be more. You live like this?' when wiring you money for groceries (because Grim ate your allowance in tuna smh). As for how you're bad? You're just flat broke man, so he's responsibly irresponsible as a result.

Vitamins Again (Inherited): Bro. Bro, genetics are making you pale but that diet is what is making those eyebags so prominent despite having a decent skincare routine. You need Vitamin D but he needs the whole spectrum. His potassium is so low, that you'll be staring him down with a plate of cooked salmon in one hand and a bottle of vitamins in the other. Is it pushy? Sure, but you don't want him keeling over within the next decade. Eat the vitamins or it's time to raid his search history. Ortho, get them medical reports out stat.

RPG (Developed): Every chance he gets, Idia will model his MC after you in an RPG. A character customization screen HATES to see this man coming, because he will sit there for hours until it is as close to your image as the system allows. You won't even know since he plays these games solo and has photographic memory to recreate you without a reference. If caught, will deny it despite the evidence being right there. Flat out takes this to the grave.

Sour Candy (Inherited): Fun fact? Citric acid is the perfect stimulant to shock someone out of a panic attack. You find the sourest candy he can tolerate, and it does it's job. If anything it creates a placebo effect, where when Idia tastes it he'll make an association with being anything but anxious. One time he ran out while stuck in a work meeting, and Ortho had to swipe a lemon from the cafeteria.

"Eugh! Sour! Sour! My tongue's gonna shrivel up like a prune! I should have knew this was a prank -" <- Proceeds to forget why he was anxious. Stops himself mid-rant, face sours realizing that you were right, apologizes under his breath and doesn't question you again.

Protective (Developed): Idia teeters the yandere line, to be fair. He's highly protective of the things he considers worth caring about - scratch that, the things he allows himself to care about - which are few. Very, very few. His self-doubt both keep this protectiveness in line while also fueling it. He is quick to convince himself that he has little right over your person, and that it's only a matter of time before his role gets snubbed or written out. Yet the moment his position becomes threatened by something he considers inferior? He hates the thought of some noface coming along and making a muck of your life. It's not his fault if you don't realize Idia's doing just that - but he'll be damned if someone else puts their two cents in, pushing him towards a bad ending.

"Hey - so uh, totally unprompted question that you can just ignore in all honesty - but what's it like living with so many ghosts? They don't give you any trouble or anything - 'cause if they do we've got a few empty rooms over in Ignihyde....only if you wanna! I mean - we're a buncha shut ins but it's pretty quiet and stuff. Okay, fading into the background now." <- Do you remember the Ghostbride? Idia does. Vividly. He also remembers you were the only person aside from Ortho who actually wanted to help him and didn't need cohersion. Stupid move on your part but he's hyper aware of the paranormal now regardless.

Sharing a bed (Developed): Unheard of. Especially since he's stated how miserable he was sharing a dorm - Idia surprises himself with this one. Not a single person would believe just how clingy bro is - but he's only clingy because 'you're' clingy - or so Idia loves to say if anyone teases him for going back on his whole 'solo for life' rants. He goes from the whole 'eww normie love bleh bleh' to 'oh you normies just don't get it because you don't have it hwee hwee'. Look. You're the one matching his sleep schedule, making him used to sharing a bed and having something other than a pillow to curl around - he didn't want to get used to it, he was adamant that this lifestyle was an absolute no-no, but now he's ten years too deep and he's screwed.

"Snkk - funny joke, Ortho. Almost got me there with that one. Inheriting any of my skills is like welcoming a one-track path straight to doomsville. You and I both know it." == Ever observant Ortho is very eager to share all the little changes he's seen in both yourself and Idia. Especially when the latter enters self-deprecation mode and is insistent that your relationship is nearing a band ending. In truth? Idia notices. He doesn't feel entirely himself anymore, and it terrifies him. Not everyone's meant for companionship, and for a long time Idia thought he was one of them. Someone perfectly content on their own with absolutely zero need for other people. Especially those hot-shot nosy hero types that would try to fix him without asking if he wanted to be 'fixed'. Thing is? You haven't pushed him to change at all - and he's freaking out because he's not supposed to want this. You're not supposed to want him.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #silver vanrouge x reader #silver vanrouge #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #ignihyde #diasomnia #colawrites

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phoenixyfriend · 8 months ago

Text

Ko-fi prompt from @liberwolf:

Could you explain Tariff's , like who pays them and what they do to a country?

Well, I can definitely guess where this question is coming from.

Honestly, I was pretty excited to get this prompt, because it's one I can answer and was part of my studies focus in college. International business was my thing, and the issues of comparative advantage (along with Power Purchasing Parity) were one of the things I liked to explore.

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

At their simplest, tariffs are an import tax. The United States has had tariffs as low as 5%, and at other times as high as 44% on most goods, such as during the Civil War. The purpose of a tariff is in two parts: generating revenue for the government, and protectionism.

Let's first explore how a tariff works. If you want to be confused, then you need to have never taken an economics class, and look at this graph:

(src)

So let's undo that confusion.

The simplest examples are raw or basic materials such as steel, cotton, or wine.

First, without tariffs:

Let us say that Country A and Country B both produce steel, and it is of similar quality, and in both cases cost $100 per unit. Transportation from one country to the other is $50/unit, so you can either buy domestically for $100, or internationally for $150. So you buy domestically.

Now, Country B discovers a new place to mine iron very easily, and so their cost for steel drops to $60/unit due to increased ease of access. Country A can either purchase domestically for $100, or internationally for $110 (incl. shipping), which is much more even. Still, it is more cost-effective to purchase domestically, and so Country A isn't worried.

Transportation technology is improved, dropping the shipping costs to $30/unit. A person from Country A can buy: Domestic: $100 International: $60+$30 = $90 Purchasing steel from Country B is now cheaper than purchasing it from Country A, regardless of where you live.

Citizens in Country A, in order to reduce costs for domestic construction, begin to purchase their steel from Country B. As a result, money flows from Country A to B, and the domestic steel industry in Country A begins to feel the strain as demand dwindles.

In this scenario, with no tariffs, Country A begins to rely on B for their steel, which causes a loss of jobs (steelworkers, miners), loss of infrastructure (closing of mines and factories), and an outflow of funds to another country. As a result, Country A sees itself as losing money to B, while also growing increasingly reliant on their trading partner for the crucial good that is steel. If something happens to drive up the price of B's steel again, like political upheaval or a natural disaster, it will be difficult to quickly ramp up the production of steel in Country A's domestic facilities again.

What if a tariff is introduced early?

Alternately, the dropping of complete costs for purchase of steel from Country B could be counteracted with tariffs. Let's say we do a 25% tariff on that steel. This tariff is placed on the value of the steel, not the end cost, so:

$60 + (0.25 x $60) + $30 = $105/unit

Suddenly, with the implementation of a 25% tariff on steel from Country B, the domestic market is once again competitive. People can still buy from Country B if they would like, but Country A is less worried about the potential impacts to the domestic market.

The above example is done in regards to a mature market that has not yet begun to dwindle. The infrastructure and labor is still present, and is being preemptively protected against possible loss of industry to purchasing abroad.

What happens if the tariff is not implemented until after the market has dwindled?

Let's say that the domestic market was not protected by the tariff until several decades on. Country A's domestic production, in response to increased purchasing from abroad, has dwindled to one third of what it was before the change in pricing incentivized purchase from B. Prices have, for the sake of keeping this example simple, remained at $100(A) and $60(B) in that time. However, transportation has likely become better, so transportation is down to $20, meaning that total cost for steel from B is $80, accelerating the turn from domestic steel to international.

So, what happens if you suddenly implement a tariff on international steel? Shall we say, 40%?

$60 + (0.4 x 60) + 20 = $104

It's more expensive to order from abroad! Wow! Let's purchase domestically instead, because these prices add up!

But the production is only a third of what it used to be, and domestic mines and factories for refining the iron into steel can't keep up. They're scaling, sure, but that takes time. Because demand is suddenly triple of the supply, the cost skyrockets, and so steel in Country A is now $150/unit! The price will hopefully come down eventually, as factories and mines get back in gear, but will the people setting prices let that happen?

So industries that have begun to rely on international steel, which had come to $80/unit prior to the tariff, are facing the sudden impact of a cost increase of at least $25/unit (B with tariff) or the demand-driven price increase of domestic (nearly double the pre-tariff cost of steel from B), which is an increase of at least 30% what they were paying prior to the tariff.

There are possible other aspects here, such as government subsidies to buoy the domestic steel industry until it catches back up, or possibly Country B eating some of the costs so that people still buy from them (selling for $50 instead of $60 to mitigate some of the price hike, and maintain a loyal customer base), but that's not a direct impact of the tariff.

Who pays for tariffs?

Ultimately, this is a tax on a product (as opposed to a tax on profits or capital themselves, which has other effects), which means the majority of the cost is passed on directly to the consume.

As I said, we could see the producers in Country B cut their costs a little bit to maintain a loyal customer base, but depending on their trade relationships with other countries, they are just as likely to stop trading with Country A altogether in order to focus on more profitable markets.

So why do we not put tariffs on everything?

Well... for that, we get into the question of production efficiency, or in this case, comparative advantage.

Let's say we have two small, neighboring countries, C and D, that have negligible transportation costs and similar industries. Both have extensive farmland, and both have a history of growing grapes for wine, and goats for wool. Country C is a little further north than D, so it has more rocky grasses that are good for goats, while D has more fertile plains that are good for growing grapes.

Let's say that they have an equal workforce of 500,000 of people. I'm going to say that 10,000 people working full time for a year is 1 unit of labor. So, Country C and Country D have between the 100 units of labor, and 50 each.

The cost of 1 unit of wool = the cost of 1 unit of wine

Country C, having better land for goats, can produce 4 units of wool for every unit of labor, and 2 units of wine for every unit of labor.

Meanwhile, Country D, having better land for grapes, can produce 2 units of wool per unit of labor, and 4 units of wine per unit of labor.

If they each devote exactly half their workforce to each product, then:

Country C: 100 units of wool, 50 units of wine Country D: 50 units of wool, 100 units of wine

Totaling 150 units of each product.

However, if each devotes all of their workforce to the product they're better at...

Country C: 200 units of wool, no wine Country D: no wool, 200 units of wine

and when they trade with each other, they each end up with 100 units of each product, which is a doubling of what their less-efficient labor would have resulted in!

The real world is obviously much more complicated, but in this example, we can see the pros of outsourcing some of your production to another country to focus on your own specialties.

Extreme examples of this IRL are countries where most of the economy rests on one product, such as middle-eastern petro-states that are now struggling to diversify their economies in order to not get left behind in the transition to green energy, or Taiwan's role as the world's primary producer of semiconductors being its 'silicon shield' against China.

Comparative advantage can be used well, such as our Unnamed Countries (that are definitely not the classic example of England and Portugal, with goats instead of sheep) up in the example. With each economy focusing on its specialty, there is a greater yield of both products, meaning a greater bounty for both countries.

However, should something happen to Country C up there, like an earthquake that kills half the goats, they are suddenly left with barely enough wool to clothe themselves, and nothing for Country D, which now has a surplus of wine and no wool.

So you do have to keep some domestic industry, because Bad Things Can Happen. And if we want to avoid the steel example of a collapse in the given industry, tariffs might be needed.

Are export tariffs a thing?

Yes, but they are much rarer, and can largely be defined as "oh my god, everyone please stop getting rid of this really important resource by selling it to foreigners for a big buck, we are depleting this crucial resource."

So what's the big confusion right now?

Donald Trump has, on a number of occasions, talked about 'making China pay' tariffs on the goods they import into the US. This has led to a belief that is not entirely unreasonable, that China would be the side paying the tariffs.

The view this statement engenders is that a tariff is a bit like paying a rental fee for a seller's table at an event: the producer or merchant pays the host (or landlord or what have you) a fee to sell their product on the premises. This could be a farmer's market, a renaissance faire, a comic book convention, whatever. If you want to sell at the event, you have to pay a fee to get a space to set up your table.

In the eyes of the people who listened to Trump, the tariff is that fee. China is paying the United States for access to the market.

And, technically, that's not entirely wrong. China is thus paying to enter the US market. It's just the money to pay that fee needs to come from somewhere, and like most taxes on goods, that fee comes from the consumer.

So... what now?

Well, a lot of smaller US companies that rely on cheap goods made in China are buying up non-perishables while they can, before the tariffs hit. Long-term, manufacturers in the US that rely on parts and tools manufactured in China are going to feel the squeeze once that frontloaded stock is depleted.

Some companies are large enough to take the hit on their own end, still selling at cheap rates to the consumer, because they can offset those costs with other parts of their empire... at least until smaller competitors are driven out of business, at which point they can start jacking up their prices since there are no options left. You may look at that and think, "huh, isn't that the modus operandi for Walmart and Amazon already?" and yes. It is. We are very much anticipating a 'rich get richer, poor go out of business' situation with these tariffs.

The tariffs will also impact larger companies, including non-US ones like Zara (Spanish) and H&M (Swedish), if they have a huge reliance on Chinese production to supply their huge market in the United States.

If you're interested in the repercussions that people expect from these proposed tariffs on Chinese goods, I'd suggest listening to or watching the November 8th, 2024 episode of Morning Brew Daily (I linked to YouTube, but it's also available on Spotify, Nebula, the Morning Brew website, and other podcast platforms).

#id in alt text #id in alt #economics #tariffs #import tax #customs #customs duties #ko fi prompts #capitalism #phoenix talks #ko fi #taxes #taxation

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tvseries-writings · 7 days ago

Text

Takedown

Polytrix x reader (Kpop Demon Hunters)

Prompt: When Rumi falls victim to a devastating panic attack triggered by a demon who takes the shape of someone from her past, you throw yourself in to protect her, only to be struck brutally in the head. Your girls panic.

TW: fainting, passing out, panic attack.

Being an idol means sacrifice, passion, commitment. Being an idol is difficult, scary, but it also means bringing something to the world, and as Huntrix, that is your destiny. Idols by day and hunters by night, demons sliced by your blades and stolen kisses between kills, while the Honmoon grows stronger with every blow you strike.

Celine took you under her wing at the same time Zoey and Mira were recruited. Then you met that little girl with purple hair and a shy gaze, with deeply sad eyes, and your innocent feelings, over the years, with success, with sleepless nights spent defeating demons and rehearsing songs, had turned into a feeling so pure and powerful that every caress you gave her strengthened the Honmoon, though hidden from everyone's eyes except yours.

As hunters, your job was to defeat demons; as Huntrix, your job was to dominate the stage, hiding the diversity of a pure but unconventional love like yours, a bit like you. Rumi's "tattoos," the scars on your arms, Mira's past, Zoey's insecurities... a hymn to diversity itself, a hymn to yourselves.

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you look at what is supposed to be your new seamstress for the new tour.

"Okay, you're literally holding the needle the wrong way around, and you're supposed to be our seamstress... you're a demon, aren't you?"

"What? No, I don't know what you're talking about, I..."

You uncover her arms, revealing the typical marks and shaking your head in disapproval.

"I don't understand why you keep doing this. You should have figured it out by now. First learn the craft, then come to Earth. It should be easy, yet you idiots keep making the same mistakes over and over again. It's getting tiresome."

You snort in boredom, making the four shuriken (ninja stars) appear in your hands. You twirl them between your fingers and, as you watch the now-transformed demon in front of you, you notice three other brutes joining the party out of the corner of your eye. Rumi, Zoey, and Mira should be coming through that door any minute, but until then, you'll have to fend for yourself.

"If most of you weren't so stupid as to not even learn human customs and traditions, I'd almost feel sorry for killing you. Almost."

The seamstress demon attacks you, but you easily dodge it, letting one of your stars stick into its forehead, turning it to dust. You hear Zoey's voice echoing in the hallway, turn toward the door, and see familiar purple hair peeking into the room. The distraction is enough for one of the three remaining demons to throw you against the wall, hitting your head so hard that you see nothing but darkness for a few minutes.

Rumi is the first to spring into action, conjuring her saingeom and running towards you, but the demon that hit you blocks her path. Before any of the three of them can finish it off, turn it to dust, and send it back to the hell it came from once and for all, it transforms into Jinu, and Rumi freezes. The saingeom slips from her hands, crashing to the floor with a loud thud; the hunter falls to her knees and Zoey and Mira quickly rush to her side, while four more demons emerge from a crack in the ceiling.

"Rumi! It's not real, it's not really Jinu!"

Zoey grunts as three of her shin-kal pierce a demon's throat.

"Rumi! Get up!"

"They know what you are, Rumi. Your secret has been revealed, your marks are shining—"

The Jinu demon smirks as he moves closer, and Mira strikes him in the calf with her gok-do, causing him to stumble back a few steps.

"Don't you dare touch her."

Her eyes burn with fire, her hands clenching the gok-do with such force and rage that her knuckles turn white.

In the chaos, you finally regain consciousness. The demons have almost tripled in number in the room, and your eyes immediately fall on the hyperventilating figure of one of your girls. With a grunt, you stand up, make the shuriken reappear in your right hand, and start killing as many demons as possible—considering your current aim, very few—in a desperate attempt to reach Rumi before the situation worsens.

Mira and Zoey glance at you briefly before returning to the fight. They are concerned but unable to assist you at this moment.

You collapse to your knees in front of the purple-haired girl, ignoring the throbbing in your head as you gently caress her cheeks.

"Rumi, my love, look at me."

She doesn't answer you, she doesn't even look at you; her chest rises and falls at an alarming rate and your heart sinks at the sight. A demon approaches and you barely have time to strike him, a second before he hits you. Out of the corner of her eye, Mira notices two of your shuriken missing their target, and her stomach clenches. You never miss your target, never, under any circumstances. Something is wrong.

"Rumi, it's okay, Jinu is free, it's not your fault. We love you, we know about your marks, and we love you. Love, please, breathe with me."

You grab one of her hands and bring it to your chest, deliberately exaggerating your breathing to get the other girl to follow suit.

"Breathe, love, breathe; that's it, good girl."

You hold her in your arms, she's still shaking, but now the broken gasps she was making a few seconds ago are deeper and less raspy. That's enough for now.

"It's okay, it's okay, we love you, all of you. There's not a single part of you that we don't love, Rumi."

Your girlfriend clings to your arm, holding on to it as if it were her anchor, and in that fleeting moment you notice a demon running towards you. Mira and Zoey notice it too, but they are too far away to reach you.

"Rumi, watch out!"

You scream, pushing her out of the way. You summon two shuriken but miss the target, summon two more but your vision blurs; you don't see it coming, you don't even hear it. You can barely hear the muffled screams of Mira, Zoey, Rumi... The demon hits you with a dull thud on the back of your head and the world explodes into a painful red and white blur, like a camera flash projected inside your skull.

You stagger forward, then backward, your knees buckling like wet paper under your weight, the shuriken slipping from your hands and falling to the floor.

A high-pitched buzzing whistles in your ears. The lights become blurred, overlapping. You bend forward, one hand on your head and the other desperately searching for something to hold on to. But there is only air, and you fall. The floor welcomes you with unexpected violence, and the moment your temple hits the marble, you lose consciousness.

"Shit, shit, shit. Y/n!" Zoey screams, turning around for just a second before a demon attacks her, forcing her to look away from you.

"Rumi! Rumi, you have to take care of her, we'll take care of the demons."

The purple-haired girl hurries over, takes your face in her hands, and brushes the sweat from your forehead.

"Y/n, love, love, wake up, you have to wake up."

Her slender fingers frantically slide over your wrist, searching for a pulse. Then she lifts your eyelids, checking the responsiveness of your pupils. Her fingers tremble, her chest hurts, the consequences of the panic attack are taking their toll.

Meanwhile, the room has become a Dantean circle, filled with demonic screams and sliced flesh, turned to dust. Zoey advances like a bullet, using her concern for you as a trigger, the shin-kal are like liquid tentacles that tear and divide the demons. Next to her, Mira moves with awkward and brutal elegance: a gok-do strike, a sharp blow, a growl—on her part, of course—and another demon implodes under her weapon.

Rumi remains kneeling, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from your unconscious form, her hands wandering over your body, tears streaming down her face.

"Love, wake up."

The purple-haired girl leans over you and rubs her knuckles hard on your sternum; Celine had taught you that this technique was one of the fastest ways to revive an unconscious person. A small moan escapes your lips as you blink, trying to focus your vision.

For a single, terrible moment, you don't remember where you are, but then a glance at Rumi's worried, tear-stained face and the sound of Mira and Zoey's weapons cutting through the air in the room bring you back to reality.

"The demons! We, I..."

You try to get up, or at least sit up, but Rumi shakes her head, her eyes wide as she pushes her hands against your chest to keep you lying on the floor.

"No! No, don't try that, take it easy. You have a concussion and I still have to check your head."

Her voice trembles, tears still streaming down her cheeks, and despite the pain in your head, you sit up and hug her.

"You did well, love, everything's fine, breathe okay? Keep breathing for me."

You glance at Mira and Zoey and realize they won't make it on their own.

"Rumi, hey, listen to me; I have to help them, you sing, repair the crack."

You caress her cheek, smile at her, and then slowly approach her, leaving a sweet kiss on her lips before summoning your shuriken, joining your other two companions.

You grit your teeth and ignore the pain, praying that your body will hold out a little longer before finally giving way.

I don't think you're ready for the takedown

"Zoey, get down!"

One of your shuriken sticks into the throat of the demon that was about to attack the lyricist from behind and dissolves it into dust.

"Y/n! You should rest, sweetheart, don't stay here fighting."

Zoey approaches you, killing another demon and watching you do the same.

"You needed help, Rumi..."

Break you into pieces in a world of pain, 'cause you're all the same

You exchange glances, you don't need to speak. You both know you'll have to talk to her once this is all over.

Yeah, it's a takedown

"Y/n!" Mira quickly approaches you, and her relieved gaze rests on you, "you should-"

"...Rest, I know, I know. But I'm having so much fun killing these assholes."

You smile playfully as another of your shuriken sends the last demon in the room to the other world.

A demon with no feelings, don't deserve to live, it's so obvious

"Thankfully they're gone, I was getting tired."

Mira snorts, rolling her eyes, and makes her gok-do disappear with a wave of her hand. You and Zoey do the same with your weapons, and then all three of you turn to Rumi. She is still kneeling on the ground. She is out of breath from singing and most likely as a result of her earlier panic attack.

You nod to them, miming "go to her" with your lips.

"Hey sweetie, how are you feeling?"

Zoey sits down beside her, stroking her arm and trying to catch her eye, and Mira does the same; she sits down behind her and hugs her, resting her chin on her right shoulder.

"I-I'm fine, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-it's my fault, I shouldn't have let-."

"Rumi, hey, hey, it's okay. It's not your fault, sweetie, it's not your fault."

You say and take a step towards them, focusing solely on changing your sweet and innocent Rumi's mind. A wave of dizziness hits you and the pain intensifies rapidly.

Without the hand that was supporting you against the wall, the only reason your body hasn't collapsed to the ground until now, your legs give way and your vision blurs. Your knees hit the floor, and your head would have too if it weren't for Zoey's lightning-fast reflexes.

"Y/N!"

Their cries are muffled sounds, as if you were underwater; you're not completely unconscious, but you're not fully aware of what's going on around you either.

"Honey, honey, wake up."

Zoey shakes you by the shoulders, her lips trembling as she struggles not to cry. You are pale, your chest rising and falling too slowly for her liking, and the terrified look on Mira's face tells her that the situation is serious.

"Zoey, Zoey, you have to be gentle. Check her head, see if she has any bumps, okay?"

The redhead is still holding the purple-haired girl in her arms, preventing her from falling apart and blaming herself for what happened. That's the last thing she needs right now.

The rapper's hands wander through your hair, finding not one but two bumps, one of which is bleeding.

"Damn, she's bleeding, shit,"

Zoey mutters, then tears off a piece of her uniform and presses it against the cut on your head.

"M-Mira... she'll be okay, right?"

Rumi whispers, clinging to the older girl, and Mira can only nod, hugging her a little tighter as she prays to the gods that she's not lying.

.....................................................................................................................

After the girls brought you back to your apartment, you spent hours drifting in and out of consciousness. The first time you woke up, it wasn't a pleasant awakening. In fact, you woke up because Mira shook you until you opened your eyes.

"Y/n, you can't sleep, love, come on..."

A small moan escaped your lips, tears forming in the corners of your eyes without you being able to stop them.

"What... Mira, what?"

"You hit your head, love, do you remember?"

The second time you woke up, two hours later, it was because of a painful massage on your sternum, which you tried to free yourself from by unconsciously summoning your shuriken.

"Woah tiger, take it easy with those."

Mira had snatched them from your hands and thrown them across the room. You looked up and saw the culprit behind that painful massage.

"Rumi, stop, stop, my head hurts... I just want to sleep."

"It'll pass, sweetheart, it'll pass."

You whimpered, and Rumi held back a sob, leaning over you to kiss your forehead. Then she, Mira, and Zoey exchanged worried glances before you fell unconscious again.

The third time you woke up, it was because of a loud conversation that had disturbed your sleep.

"We have to take her to the hospital, she needs a CT scan."

"She's so stubborn... she won't let us take her to the hospital." Mira shook her head, glancing quickly at you.

"I know, damn it, but she can't stay awake for more than five minutes. We have to do something. She took a bad blow, and if she has a brain hemorrhage and we don't notice it in time..."

"I'm fine," you muttered, rubbing your eyes, "Celine..."

"We don't talk to Celine anymore, love. Remember?" Zoey said, and you looked at her confusedly before throwing up the contents of your stomach onto the floor.

..……………………………...................................................................................

After seven hours of intermittent wakefulness, you regain consciousness. Slowly. You blink, move your arms and find them sore, before noticing the same in your legs. You look around, there is no one in the room and the only noise is the traffic of Seoul in the background. You sit up slowly and then swing your legs out of bed. As soon as your feet touch the floor, a chill runs down your spine.

"What are you thinking of doing? Don't even try it."

Mira's hands push you back onto your back and you snort.

"I feel better, love."

"Yeah, well... we haven't slept for 10 hours to make sure you don't have a fucking brain hemorrhage, that your chest is still rising, so stay the fuck still."

You sigh, abandoning all attempts to escape. You look at Mira, her shoulders tense, dark circles under her eyes, and the look of a caged tiger expecting someone to hurt her at any moment.

"Mira?"

"Mm."

"Love, look at me."

You manage to grab her hand, tugging it slightly to force her to look at you.

"I'm fine, Mira, I'm fine. Sure, it feels like someone played football with my head, but I'm here, I'm talking to you."

Mira remains silent for a few moments, her breathing still too rapid, her heart pounding beneath her skin. But finally, she lets out a long sigh and sits down on the edge of the bed, next to you. Her fingers brush your cheek and then intertwine with yours.

She can't take her eyes off you, as if to make sure you're really there, really alive.

You hear a rustle and the door to the room opens slightly, creaking.

Zoey enters first, her hair messy and still wearing her crew sweatshirt. She looks different—more vulnerable, as if she had been forced to look too closely at what she wasn't ready to lose. Behind her, Rumi tiptoes in. She is wearing a loose-fitting T-shirt and her bare legs are shaking; her hair is not tied back in her usual braid but loose and damp on her shoulders.

"Is she awake?" Zoey asks, turning to Mira. Her voice is little more than a whisper as they both approach the bed.

"Present, more or less."

You smile, raising your hand playfully, and before you can put it down, Zoey screams and jumps on you.

"Zoey! Take it easy."

"It's okay, Mira," you chuckle, hugging the girl in your arms and kissing her shoulders as you hold her close.

"You had us so worried, you were awake intermittently, you almost choked on your vomit, and you couldn't remember anything, not even Celine and-"

"Zo, breathe, it's okay, I'm here now. I'm sorry I scared you."

You feel your shirt starting to get wet and realize that Zoey is crying.

"Don't ever do that again. Google says you could have had a seizure and I searched in the forum that—"

"Zoey, sweetheart, we've already talked about this. When you're scared, you're not allowed to look it up on Google, you know that."

"I know, I know, but..." Zoey's voice trembles, as does her body in your arms, "...but you were there, motionless, and you weren't reacting. You weren't breathing properly, y/n. I didn't know what to do. And I—

Zoey stops abruptly. Her voice cracks and her fingers cling to your arm as if she's afraid you might disappear again. Mira strokes her back with a slow hand, but doesn't speak. There's no need.

Then Rumi approaches. Tiny steps, almost trembling. Her hands clenched around the hem of her shirt, her knuckles white with tension.

"Can... can I come too?" she asks in a whisper.

You don't answer. You just reach out your arm toward her, slowly but surely, and Rumi doesn't hesitate any longer: she joins you and crouches down next to you, between you and Mira, resting her face against your shoulder and hugging you gently. Her fingers touch your skin as if she's afraid of breaking you.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it's my fault, I..."

Her voice trembles, her chin brushing your chest. You hug her tighter, one hand on the back of her neck, a light kiss in her hair.

"Rumi, love, hey... Do we ever apologize when one of us has a nightmare or an anxiety attack? You brought me back. You were brave."

"No... I'm not. I froze. I let them attack you. They used her face and I... I couldn't react."

Mira, who hadn't said anything until then, leans forward and gently takes her chin, forcing her to look her in the eyes.

"Despite everything, you kept fighting, Rumi. That's courage."

Zoey nods, tears still hanging on her eyelashes.

"Exactly. And then you calmed us all down. You sing, Ru. You keep us together. You're our anchor."

Rumi doesn't answer. She just nods, rubbing her nose against your shirt before letting herself go completely. Mira pulls her close, and Zoey hugs you from behind, her arms around your waist. You find yourselves like this: a knot of intertwined bodies on the bed, tired, bruised, still trembling but united. Your heartbeats slowly synchronize. The silence is no longer empty, but filled with your shared breathing.

You close your eyes, just for a second, a twinge in your temple forcing you to do so, and when you open them again, you find Zoey watching you.

"Do you know what scared me the most?" she asks softly, her voice barely vibrating as she looks at you worriedly. You shake your head slowly, your mouth dry, the twinge still throbbing behind your left eye.

Zoey takes a breath, lowers her gaze for a moment, then raises it again.

"That you didn't remember Celine. That... you weren't you anymore. As if something had erased you. As if... we had lost you before we even really lost you."

A heavy silence falls over all of you, like a shroud. Rumi hugs you tighter, and Mira does the same. You swallow.

"Celine raised us," more out of habit than conviction. "She taught us everything. She taught us how to survive, but—"

"Not how to live. Not how to love. Not like this." Mira whispers. The words come out slowly but firmly. "We've moved on. In every way. And now we can stop looking back."

Rumi sniffs, then speaks in a whisper:

"So we can stop being afraid of who we are?"

"Yes, Ru. We can," you murmur. "We are the Huntrix. We are real. It's the four of us."

Zoey smiles through her tears, reaches out and intertwines her hand with yours. Mira does the same with Rumi's. You stay like that for a few minutes, your fingers intertwined like broken rings that finally fit together.

Then Rumi yawns softly, almost shyly.

"I feel... exhausted."

"We're all exhausted," Mira murmurs, pulling her close.

You cuddle up, but not before Rumj checks your pulse and Mira checks her blood pressure.

"I think that's enough."

"You gave us a heart attack, so now you're going to get checked out and you're not complaining. Got it?"

You smile slightly, shaking your head in exasperation. Then you reach over to the redhead and kiss her on the shoulder. Mira stops, her fingers pressed against your wrist, and looks at you. They finish checking you and then lie down beside you.

"I love you," says the redhead, pressing a kiss on your lips.

"I love you more," adds Zoey.

"I love you most of all," murmurs Rumi, already half asleep in your arms.

And in that small, warm room, filled with silence and unspoken words, four hearts beat as one.

Four hunters. Four idols. Four souls.

One Honmoon.

Thank you for reading! Requests are always open, and even though I'm not entirely satisfied with this fanfiction... well, here we are. Have a great day! Like comment and, if u want, support me. Even 1 €/$ it’s more than enough! Please, feel free to leave a request with your donation! All the requests will be fulfilled, even without a donation. The donation will set your request on the first place and the request will be written in less than 48 hours.

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#wlw #polyamourous #polytrix x reader #polytrix #zoey x rumi #rumi x mira x zoey #rumi x reader #rumi kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters #zoey x mira #mira kpdh #mira x rumi x zoey #mira x reader #zoey kpop demon hunters #zoey x reader #huntrix #huntrix x reader

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plethorawrites · 5 months ago

Note

Hey, so imagine Jason with a reader whose parents are simply the most loving beings in the universe, like R's father taught him basic things that neither Bruce nor his biological father could (like how to fix a broken sink, how to assemble a cabinet and even love advice) and R's mother was practically like a mother to him (visiting them regularly even when her daughter is not home, bringing soup when they know he is sick and helping him choose Valentine's Day gifts for the reader).

This may be the cutest prompt I've ever received. I love soft Jason soooo much!! (I fear I am not out of my obsession stage yet.)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Jason Todd obviously grew up with few to no parental guidance and when he got it, it was more often than not negative like manipulation and abuse or neglect.

So, when he meets his girlfriend's parents he's understandably extremely nervous. From what you've told him, they're sweet. But he knows perception can change quickly and let's be real, he's not the good, kind-hearted person anyone would want for their daughter, in his opinion.

That said, when he does meet them for the first time and your mom envelopes him in the biggest hug he's received aside from you (a chronic cuddler, which he's come to appreciate.) he's a little stunned for the moment. It takes him a minute to even remember how to speak to introduce himself.

This man, all 6'2 and 240 pounds of him, actually seems shy for a moment, trying to make a good impression. You find it adorable when his cheeks blush after your mom compliments him on all the nice things you've told them about him. He didn't even know you bragged about him to people, let alone the extent of it. Like yeah, sure, you showered him in affection all the time, but that was at his apartment or yours.

The fact that you had actually mentioned him often enough that they knew about some of his quirks— his disdain for fish because Bruce made him eat it all the time as a kid at fancy events until he couldn't stand it anymore and his desire to meet for dinner not lunch since he had an obscure sleep schedule because of his "job" was astounding to him.

Even though they couldn't know what it was, you still boasted about how he was very passionate about it and you were proud of him for how hard he worked. That, admittedly, made him blush a little harder.

"She says you've got late hours, I hope dinner won't interfere," your mom would tell him considerately.

He shook his head. "No ma'am. I don't work until later."

She beamed. "Well good, then, because we've been dying to meet you."

Even the things about him that he assumed most parents wouldn't be thrilled to hear about, yours didn't seem to mind.

"You grew up in crime Alley, right?" Your father was questioned, in between the salad and entree.

Jason swallowed. There it was, he assumed. The disapproval he was anticipating. "Yes, I did," he replied, nodding.

"It's a difficult area to grow up in," your father noted. "A very close friend of mine was born over there. He's as tough as they come. Very resilient and reliable."

Jason was taken by surprise. "Uh- yeah, yes. I suppose you learn to be loyal when you don't have many people to trust." He internally cursed himself for saying that. It was too dark and pessimistic.

"An admirable quality," your mother said sincerely as you squeezed his hand under the table. "It must have also exposed you to a lot of different types of people and given you a very broad outlook on life."

He just nodded, swallowing some of his water.

Your father had similarly commented that he seemed to have a great work ethic, which Jason clearly appreciated and considered important. Your dad also, at the end of dinner, when you were out of ear range, made a quiet remark to Jason about how he seemed to make you very happy and that's all he ever wanted for his daughter. Jason had been expecting shovel talk or threats. At the very least, judgemental stares, the way he was used to, but instead your parents were absolutely lovely.

And it very clearly wasn't some temporary ruse, either, like he thought it might have been. They really were good people, just like you. When you moved in with him, your parents helped the two of you pack your old apartment and unpack in his. Your mom even insisted on cooking dinner since the two of you were exhausted from all the moving. He would never say no to her cooking, since aside from Alfred's, it was the best he'd ever had.

It was only a few weeks later, in the middle of summer, when your air conditioner broke down. It was Gotham, so obviously it was hot as hell. And of course no one was reliable when it came to actually coming to fix it. Your father, however, was used to fixing things and came over when you casually mentioned it to him after it was broken for a week or two.

He was about halfway through with it when Jason came home and he immediately felt bad just letting him, so your dad pointed towards some tool and asked him for some help.

"I don't really know how to fix an AC. Vehicles are more my thing," he confessed, lifting a wrench to his hand.

Your dad shrugged. "Not that hard. I'll show you."

Jason glanced at where you were sitting at the table with a glass of lemonade, giving him a light shrug. "Okay, sure," he muttered, rolling up his sleeves.

Jason liked to think the two of you had a pretty solid relationship, as far as honesty and commitment went. He loved you, he was almost positive by the time you'd been dating 15 months that he wanted to marry you.

But you still, occasionally, fought the way all couples did. And when you did, it was usually because he struggled to keep plans or left you waiting up for him, only to come home desperately needing stitches.

The worst it ever got was when he deliberately lied to you, swearing he'd stay out of something dangerous and going straight into danger the second he could. Even though nothing that bad actually happened, you were more than a little angry. In fact, during the screaming match you had, he could swear he saw the exact moment your heart broke when you told him you thought he cared more about being Red Hood than he did about you.

You left for hours. Four of them.

And when he heard a knock at the door, he was hopeful it was you, having forgot your keys. Instead, it was your mom. His heart dropped, wondering what she was doing there—planning to yell at him for how he treated you, grabbing some things for you so you could stay away for several days, breaking up with him on your behalf.

All she did was invite herself in, making some coffee (just the way she knew he liked it) and sitting on the couch with him. He was confused and silent, until she spoke up.

"She's not saying what the fight was about," she told him. "I assume it's your work. The uh-... nightly aspect of it?"

He blinked a little. Something about her tone was more suggestive than he liked. "It- partially, yeah," he admitted. "I didn't mean to break my promise."

She nodded. "I know," she muttered. "And I don't think she's mad, just...scared. She doesn't want to lose you."

"She won't," Jason replied instantly.

Your mom's lips quirked into a small smile. "Then tell her that," she suggested, adding that: "Trust is fragile. It takes a long time to build it and a single action can shatter it." She patted his knee, standing up and he stood too, walking her to the door.

"Why do I have a feeling you know what the fight was about, even without her telling you?" He asked quietly if not with some suspicion.

"You're a very good man, Jason," she told him. "But it doesn't take a genius to know why those hours you work are so obscure." Before he could question or deny what he felt she already knew, she was giving him a small kiss on the cheek, the way she often did to greet and say goodbye. "Call her," she said. "I'll make sure she picks up."

So he did. And you did answer, like she promised.

You made up, like always and it wasn't even six months later that he was calling your parents, asking for blessing to propose to you. Of course they said yes and we're thrilled to do so. Your mom even helped him pick out the ring. Which took hours, half because he couldn't decide and half because she kept starting to cry.

When he finally did find the right one, she naturally helped him plan the proposal, too. He wasn't always the greatest at romantic gestures. At least not grand ones. He was always better at the subtle shows of affection—remembering dates and details or taking care of you when you're sick. He doesn't want to do anything overwhelming, but filling the apartment with twinkling lights and telling you—with several tears in his eyes—how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, is plenty for you.

"Yes?" He repeats, almost in disbelief that you'd agreed so quickly to marry him.

"Yes, yes, obviously," you repeated, sniffling to keep from crying as you gave him your hand, letting him slip the ring on your finger.

His arms immediately enveloped you, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around like you weighed nothing. Setting you down, his lips found yours for a deep, long kiss, before pressing his forehead against yours and nuzzling your nose.

"I love you so much," he repeated, even though he'd said it three times already.

He already saw plenty of your parents, at least four or five times a month, but it seems like he sees them nearly everyday when the wedding planning starts. Your mom is more concerned with invitations and linens or vows while your dad really just shows up for cake tasting, or trying the catering companies. Not to mention to judge and criticize the venue options.

Still, they're there more than his own father figure is, sort of like they have been since he met them. They're there on your wedding day, crying in the front row when he uses his love of literature to craft was perhaps the most beautiful wedding vows ever recorded. They're there to take care of your apartment when you're on your honeymoon, coming to water the plants and collect the mail, not to mention stock the fridge before you get back.

They're there for your birthday and his, as well as Thanksgiving and Christmas. They're there to help prepare for the baby when you eventually have kids, your mom by soothing Jason's nerves and your dad by helping him paint the nursery or assemble furniture. They're there after the baby is born and visit whenever you need a babysitter for a few hours or even days to spend time together.

They're there, he realizes. They're there and he loves that, not just for you or for the baby, but for himself too. For the little kid inside him that never fully felt like any adults around him truly had his best interests at heart.

#jason todd needs a hug #jason todd #jason todd x reader #plethorawrites #batboys #jason todd imagine #dc comics #jason todd x you #x reader #headcanon #jason todd imagines

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the-secret-formulaone · 8 months ago

Text

prompt: you and max have been secretly together for years. neither the fans or the media have a clue. what happens when you and max are neck and neck for the drivers championship and you get the unexpected news that you’re pregnant?

pairing: max verstappen x ferrari! reader

word count: ~7.6k

warnings: 18+, cursing, mentions of sex but no real smut, mentions of miscarriage, some mention of blood

a/n: hello, i'm brand new at writing fanfic for f1. i've had this idea for a while and it was eating at me so i hope you enjoy. i thought it would be cool to have it be like a normal fic with a bit of that social!au content that the fandom loves.

this is pt.1 of how everything is going down and then the next and final part will be what happens after, her pregnancy and what reader does this time around. along with some fan social media mayhem.

id love to hear your thoughts!

enjoy!

LAS VEGAS, USA | NOV 2024

The nausea settling in the pit of your stomach is unbearable, it gets worse with each lap you complete. You're confident you can push through and finish the race without throwing up in your helmet, until the track begins doubling and tripling.

You haven’t felt this dizzy since you crashed in Spa three years ago due to rain. There were no stakes then as you were having a bad race weekend and started P7. Today you’re P1 and the gap between you and Max is getting shorter as you slow to try and compensate for the nausea and dizziness.

You hear your team in your ear, asking you if the car's giving you trouble since there’s no apparent reason for you to be slowing down at this point. Especially with ten laps to go.

“The car is fine,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to relax your abdomen to keep the nausea at bay.

“Then what’s the matter? Are you okay?” Riccardo, your race engineer, asks. His tone is stern yet concerned.

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. My head feels like it’s spinning is all.” You're nonchalant but deep inside you’re panicking. This race means so much to you and your team. Now is not the time to get sick.

“Can you finish the race?” His filtered voice asks through the radio.

“Yes, I’m finishing the bloody race,” you curse, pressing on the gas pedal and tightening the hold on the steering wheel.

“If you continue feeling this way, box immediately,” he orders, not wanting to risk the safety of his driver, “By the way Max is 2 seconds behind you.”

“Fucking hell.” After all the work to create a 10 second gap Max is catching up because your body decided to get sick.

There’s rage building inside of you, keeping Max away is the most difficult part of racing. It took pure skill to keep him at a distance, he’s only catching up because you’re slowing. You're letting yourself down.

It’s been a battle of pole positions and fastest laps for you two. The championship is within your reach, threatening to break Max’s two year streak. It's why Max is giving everything he has to get ahead of you. If he wins this race he’ll be on top once more.

Another bout of nausea takes over your body, shivers running down your spine. Why are you nauseous and dizzy? You were hydrated before the race, the temperature in the car is warm as always but it’s cool outside, unlike Singapore, and you felt perfectly fine earlier.

It’s most likely karma for teasing Max this morning and leaving him with a raging hard on.

You notice Max in your peripheral vision. He’s ready to attack and regain P1. You accelerate and block him as best you can but nearing the turn you miscalculate giving Max the perfect opportunity to pass you.

He settles right in front of you, mocking how he got ahead so easily. If you didn’t love him and felt the bile coming up your throat you would’ve cursed at him. You were famously known for insulting the men driving the other cars.

At this point, you weren’t driving straight and your race engineer, Riccardo was telling you to pit and pull out of the race.

“I promise you I’m good enough to finish the race,” you say after a moment to swallow the bile coming up. You'd rather die than DNF'ing with a handful of laps to go.

“Norris is catching up. Let’s finish this race quickly so you can get checked.”

You’re glad you created a gap at the beginning of the race, otherwise Lando and Charles, your teammate, would’ve caught up already.

You see Lando trying to overtake you but you surprisingly block him and go as fast as you can. It’s not your best work and the FIA will have something to say about it but you make do.

Finally, down the final straight you press on the gas and cross the finish line. You finish the race out of pure muscle memory since you can’t rely on your distorted vision. Ignoring the celebratory cheers, you pull up on the spot marked #2. No one says anything about the askew parking job.

Your hands are clumsy, pulling out the steering wheel and standing. One of your teammates is right there giving you the hand you clearly need as you sway and almost fall straight out of the car.

Max is none the wiser, calmly getting out the RB and running over to his team who congratulate and scream his name. In his head, you lost control of your car, giving him a way to pass you. That's how F1 works.

You pull on your helmet and all the straps fast, the Ferrari team member helping you when he sees your urgency. As soon as you pull off your balaclava you bend over and empty the contents of your stomach.

Privacy be damned.

It’s not pretty. You’ve been holding this in for 20 laps and it’s not going to stop any time soon. The cameras focus on you as you push away the Ferrari team and finish throwing up. Ready hands catch you and you’re sat on a wheel chair as they roll you over to the medics. You close your eyes and throw your head back, everything around you spinning.

The murmurs of the crowd and the media cause Max to notice. He catches sight of you being wheeled away into the back. He takes a tentative step towards you, itching to be by your side but remembers the agreement you made to keep your relationship a secret.

Sometimes he hates how stubborn you are. At this point, the world should know you two are together, married even. Yet he understands your hesitancy with how cruel the media and the fans can be.

Max stays rooted on the spot, watchful eyes and dozens of lenses noticing every movement. Lando gets close to Max trying to avoid the cameras.

“What happened?” Lando asks referring to you.

“No idea, mate,” Max says, staring intently at the door you were just rolled through. A sleuth of Ferrari members following.

“She wasn't driving straight,” Lando shakes his head. He knew something was off when he caught up to her. “It was so unpredictable it made it harder on me to battle it.”

Max didn’t think much when he pulled up behind you but he did think it was strange how easy it was to overtake you. You always give him the hardest time.

He remembers this morning when you were in bed kissing him, touching him, teasing him. You were so cheeky, his length in your hand as you sweet talked him. 'Convincing' him to throw the race. Not like he’d ever do it. You were simply having your fun with him.

There wasn’t any sign of sickness then. It’s not like you spun out during the race either. You had been flawless out on the track until you weren’t.

“I'm going to check on her,” Max tells Lando, motioning with his head and wondering what exactly is wrong with his wife.

"Just wait," Lando stops him with a hand on his chest. They notice Charles in the Ferrari garage, heading to the back where they have you. "If you go, it'll stir up rumors."

Max tenses his jaw and looks away. With a roll of his eyes he turns to get weighed. He doesn't like it but Lando is right. He doesn't give a damn about his reputation only yours and the promise he made you.

f1_news tweeted: Ferrari’s Princess is transferred to hospital after race. It was heard through their radio she was having severe motion sickness, giving Max Verstappen the lead. Not many details are known as of this moment. More updates coming soon!

comments:

user2: hope she’s doing okay! she needs to come back to kick max's ass and take the championship from him 😮‍💨

user3: bet max is celebrating

-> user4: he looked very concerned when he saw her in the wheelchair

-> user14: who wouldn’t, she looked like death 💀

user4: did ya'll notice max disappear after the ceremony?

-> user5: lol he was making sure his favorite rival was okay 🤣

-> user101: no point in staying if he can’t rub it in her face 🤐

user6: our ferrari princess 👸 looked out of it. not sure how she made it out the car

user7: the podium felt so empty without her in it 😓

-> user8: did you notice max kept looking at the spot she was supposed to be as if expecting her to suddenly appear

-> user9: she’s like his best friend and his enemy wrapped in one. can’t live with her, can't live without her

-> user10: i swear he’s in love with her. 🗣️ it’s not normal the way he looks at her

-> user11: please, she’s married. you guys need to stop being delusional and stop shipping her with every guy on the grid

-> user10: not every guy, just max and maybe charles… -> user76: let's take a moment to appreciate charles immediately asking about her and leaving the track to see how she was. it's a win for us predestined x princess shippers

In the hospital, they quickly take you into a private room. The nurses retake your vitals and give you a shot to help with the nausea. A doctor comes in relatively quickly, asking you an array of questions to help him figure out why you got sick.

"The nurse should be in quickly to draw blood. I'm not too worried about this being anything other than a virus but we just want to make sure you're all good before leaving."

"Thank you, doc," you respond, lying back on the bed. They've given you one of the flimsiest hospital gowns in existence but you've gotta admit it's more comfortable than your race suit.

It's awfully lonely in the hospital room but it gives you time to relax and wind down. Fred and Riccardo were extremely concerned for your well being- not related at all to the fact you're on the run to win the championship-forcing you to go into the hospital.

Their stressed energy, the ambulance ride and then the nurses fussing over you was overwhelming. It would've made your nausea worse had it not been for the shot.

You're snoozing off when the door opens and your husband walks in. Max has a backpack slung over his shoulder with a set of clothes for you, along with your phone and other personal belongings you left at the paddock. He hurries over to you, dropping the bag and wrapping his arms around you.

"I was so worried, schatje," Max says in your ear, kissing your temple. The softness of his hoodie and the familiar scent he carries is comforting.

"I'm okay. You should keep your distance though, doc says I have a virus," you tell him, slightly pushing him away.

He’s stubborn as he keeps hold of your hand. "I don't care if I get sick. We've got two weeks until the next race, plenty of time for me to get better." Max sits on the chair next to your bed, asking you what happened during today’s race and listening to every word you say.

"What did they do for podium?" You later ask curiously, turning on your side to get more comfortable. Max props his head on his hand as he leans on your bed, getting closer to you despite your protests.

"Riccardo was there to accept it," Max tells you, kissing the back of your hand. He had been really worried. A part of him kept checking his surroundings for any sign of you.

It’s days like today where he wishes your relationship wasn’t secret. Max wants to express how worried he was about his girlfriend wife. He wanted to say ‘fuck you’ to all protocol and go after you.

He understands your reluctance and the need for privacy in your personal life. He knows what it’s like to have his privacy invaded and Max agrees that good things have come out of keeping your relationship a secret but you’ve also had to miss out on others. One day, you’ll have to come clean to the public to be able to live your life to the fullest.

The doctor returns before he can vocalize this. He knocks on the door as he steps into the room, a tablet in his hands. “Results have come back. Would you like the gentleman to step out or is it okay if he stays?”

“He’s my husband,” you tell the doctor.

You're used to people not recognizing you outside of Formula One but Max is more known than you. You wait for the doctor to react at the sight of Max, except there’s not an ounce of recognition in his face. Good, or else, you’d have to rely on his patient-doctor confidentiality.

“Let’s get into it then. Lab’s show dehydration which is normal for the state you came in like. In addition, to the fact, you had just finished a physically demanding race. Surprisingly they also showed that your quantitative hCG levels are high meaning—"

“I’m pregnant?” You pan, shocked. Max's hand tightens around yours. Last year's endeavors left you with enough knowledge to know what that term means.

“Yes, you are pregnant,” he nods.

Max instantly turns towards you in complete shock. There’s part of him that’s happy but then there’s another that’s concerned. Personally, he’d love to have a child but it would mean you would have to sacrifice the championship.

You stare at the doctor with parted lips and furrowed brows, “That’s impossible. I have an IUD.” This couldn't be happening at a worse time.

“All methods of contraception have a percentage of failure,” the doctor sighs. “Your pregnancy explains today's sudden dizziness and nausea.”

“Do you know how far along she is?” Max asks, holding your hand tightly to show his support.

“We would need an ultrasound for that but based on her last menstrual period it can’t be more than 6 weeks.”

“Six weeks,” you breath out. You could only hear your pounding heart and the air coming in and out of your mouth. God, you've been training and driving the whole time. For fucks sake, just two weeks ago you had been celebrating your win with lots of alcohol.

You hardly hear the doctor excuse himself, leaving you and Max alone. Tears brim your eyes at the cruelty of the universe. You have in your hands the two things you want most in life. A shot at the championship and the opportunity to become a mother.

Max sits on the bed, wiping away your tears. He doesn’t say much, at a loss of words. There’s not much he can say to make this better but he thumbs away your tears and pulls you into a hug.

You fist his shirt in your hands, crying onto his shoulder, “This is not fair.”

“I know, schatje.” Max is at a loss. He understands the conflicting feelings you have. It’s no easy thing especially after everything you and Max went through.

“I can’t go through this again,” you sob, remembering the painful memories of the previous year.

United Arab Emirates | Nov 2022

The last race of the season has come quickly, deeming Max the World Champion for the second time running. He’s at the top of the podium as the Dutch national anthem plays. You look up at him from the third position, smiling at him proudly.

You’re frustrated that you weren’t able to catch up to him but you’re confident your time will come. Every year you’ve spent in the grid you’ve been able to rise through the ranks and get great contracts.

Mercedes took a chance on you this year and you’ve made them proud. It was a challenge against Ferrari and Red Bull but as the only woman you’d say you did brilliant.

You’re going to miss this next year but a break is due. After years of hard training and dedicating everything to your career you’ve decided to focus on your personal life.

It’s been nearly a year since you’ve married Max and the conversation surrounding children becomes more constant. It's a nagging sensation in the back of your head. A longing you can't stop.

Feeling at peace with your performance, you decided to take this next year to become a mother. You’re young so in two years you’re sure you can come back stronger than ever and give Max a run for his money.

As the ceremony comes to an end, the party begins and the champagne bottles are brought out. “Don’t run,” Max laughs, spraying the frothy liquid in your direction.

You fight back, shaking the bottle and spraying some at Max and Charles. They gang up on you as Charles blocks your way and they both spray you. That will keep the fans making edits for months to come, the implication of the action clear.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Charles yells over the cheers when you aim the spray at his mouth.

Getting off the stage and into a private room, Max takes off his hat and pulls you in by the waist to press his sweet tasting lips against yours. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. “Congrats two-time world champion.”

“Thank you, schatje,” Max responds, brushing back the hair sticking to your forehead.

“Get a room you two,” Charles huffs, knowing you forgot he was there.

“Sorry,” you say with a blush.

“I’m not,” Max laughs, stealing another kiss.

Outside, reporters of all kind were waiting to interview all three of you. They want Max’s celebratory words and you and Charles’ disappointment and regret. They live for the heartfelt promises you'll make for next season.

“Over here!” A reporter calls you, handing you a microphone. “What’s the plan for next year? Are you renewing with Mercedes or is there another team making offers?”

“I come with sad news,” you pout at the camera, “I won’t be on the grid next year.”

The reporter stares wide-eyed at you. This is the first time you've said those words out loud. “Could you share with us why?”

You nod at his question, fixing your hat as you speak the words you rehearsed many times before. “Since I was young I was prioritizing racing and getting into Formula One. I love how far I’ve come but I want to take a step back and enjoy my personal life for a little while. As you know, I got married a year ago and I want to enjoy that newlywed life. I will be back though,” you say with a smile and a wink at the camera.

“Is there a chance you’ll tell us who the lucky guy is?” The reporter questions, not really expecting you to answer. That the one thing you won't disclose.

You laugh, shaking your head at him, “No chance. I like to keep my personal life private.”

“Worth a shot," the reporter laughs with you. "Thank you for your time and we hope to see you soon!”

youtube upload: The Grid's Princess QUITS

thumbnail 📸: Toto Wolff looking angry and yelling at a Mercedes staff member. Lewis Hamilton with an arm around an upset looking reader.

comments:

user25: our queen is leaving? 😫 user30: who is going to keep the boys in check -> user5: i bet that’s why she’s taking a break, it’s not easy keeping charles and max under control user6: aren’t we curious as to who this mystery husband is? 👀 -> user17: i bet it’s either someone old or a billionaire, or both, i mean did you see the rock on her finger? -> user 46: oh they must be loaded to win over the grid's princess -> user96: i'm sorry but until i see proof of this man i will continue to set her up with charles user59: please, use a more dramatic title user48: i'm ready to fight 🤺 whoever made her stop racing. she's the only reason i watch them go in circles. who else is going to learn french to curse out charles properly? user55: *sigh* guess it’s time to rewatch all of the edits of her and max on repeat until she returns user104: let’s make a game. take a shot every time max and charles mention her next season.

Monaco | March 2023

When you temporarily retired, you thought you'd become pregnant in a matter of weeks. That is not the case.

Movies make it seem so easy to become pregnant, when in reality, it’s a challenge. It took nearly four months and multiple doctor visits for you to become with child.

The Winter break was spent tangled in sheets, keeping warm in each others embrace. Max was insatiable and so were you. Any chance you had you’d be dragging him somewhere private, his hands pulling at your underwear to tug them off...or to the side.

Max's voice would be in your ear as he spoke of how good you take him. He'd encourage you with words he'd never otherwise use. His cologne would intoxicate you, putting you in a trance.

His hold was firm and steady, making you shake and arch against him. His length sinking into you until you came with his name on your lips and his seed inside you.

Then, it finally happened. A positive pregnancy test in your bathroom counter. The alarm rang loudly, making you and Max share a nervous glance.

“You look,” you say with a shaky voice and shakier hands. Your period was late, followed by your tender breasts and the morning sickness. You fear your body was making it up because you wanted it so much.

“Before that,” Max says, cupping your face, “Don’t be disappointed if it’s negative. We’re just getting started and we have a whole year to try, yeah?”

You place your hands over his and nod with a small smile. Max presses a kiss to your forehead before he picks up the home test.

Max erupts in a smile, nodding and showing you the word positive. You scream, falling into his arms. He spins you around, kissing all over your face.

You and Max are over the moon, giddily waiting for every appointment with your doctor. Every ultrasound was recorded along with the babies heart beat.

Max is ecstatic. He's been wanting to have a family with you since he realized you were the one. He thought it wouldn't happen for a long time but then you revealed you wanted it too and soon despite your career.

It took a long conversation to figure out how to go about it with both of your careers being at their peak but you came to an agreement. He was ready be a father and you were ready to be a mother, even if it meant putting your career in pause.

Your desire to bring a child into the world was greater than giving the championship another shot. Whenever you're ready to return to F1, he'll take a step back and support you.

Max planned a dinner with the whole family where you told them you were expecting. Plans to decorate the nursery littered your coffee table and your internet browser history was filled with shop links with cute clothes and baby items.

Weeks later, it happened. Something felt wrong, off.

“Maxie,” you breathe heavily, feeling wet between your legs. Cramps littering your lower abdomen.

“What's wrong?” Max sits up in bed, sensing your distressed state. His gaze fixes on the red stain forming on the white sheets.

“I’m scared,” you cry, afraid to move or do anything. Cramps squeezing your insides like a bad period.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” Max reassures you, “Let’s go to the bathroom, yeah? I’ll call the doctor.”

A quick trip to the ER confirmed it. You miscarried.

You couldn’t look at Max that night, hugging yourself tightly as he drove home. You ignored all the glances he threw your way, shiying away from the hand that reached out for you.

All that happiness you felt drained out of you, leaving complete sadness behind.

Max was sad about the baby but he was more focused on you and the toll it took on you. It was always a possibility. The doctor spoke about what to expect on the first trimester and this was one of the things he mentioned. You both chose to ignore it at the time.

Max kept most of the lights off in the apartment. Remembering the bags with baby stuff from your online shopping. He kept the spare bedroom closed, where you were planning how to arrange it and paint it to transform it into the nursery.

He’s never seen you this devastated. After years of knowing you and dating you he never had the chance to see you at your lowest. It breaks his fucking heart.

Max holds you that night while you're in pain and bleeding. He rocks you as you cry, tears spilling from his eyes too as all that new hope is crushed.

You need him. Max is all you have at the moment because while he goes to race on the weekends and clear his head, you stay home with the weight of losing a baby.

Zandvoort | August 2023

With medical clearance and a couple of months to heal mentally. You and Max got to trying again.

You aren’t quitters and again you both desperately want a child. There's lots of sex, more than before. Something reignited in the relationship, like when the relationship began. Nothing could keep you away from Max back then.

He would fuck you wherever he could. Often times risking being seen. It was a moment where neither of you cared about being caught or being exposed to the whole world.

The Two-Time World Champion and the Grid’s Princess. Happily Married and Horny for Each Other.

The second time you found out you were pregnant was in Zandvoort, Max’s home race. You weren’t traveling as much trying to give your body rest and hopefully encourage it to take but this was a special track for Max so you tagged along.

Similar symptoms were arising so you waited to arrive at Zandvoort to take the test with Max. You were once again in the bathroom, sitting on the counter. He was between your legs, his head on your chest, waiting for the four minutes to be over.

“If it’s negative?” You asked, your fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp to relax him.

“Then we try again and again and again,” he says cheekily, grabbing onto your thighs and kissing you.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you,” you giggle, pulling at his roots to make him groan.

“Perhaps but I’m not the one yelling out my name,” he smirks, recalling the other night when he had you with your legs up on his shoulders as he entered you slow and deep. If he closes his eyes he can hear your whiny moans begging for him to tip you over the edge.

“Poor Checo had to call the front desk and fill in a complaint,” you giggle, hiding your face from Max with your hands.

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see his text,” Max shrugs, not having a care in the world.

He was in his suite with his wife, having fun and trying to conceive. It’s not his fault he was making you feel so good you felt the need to scream his name and it’s not his fault Checo’s bedroom was right next to yours. Blame the Red Bull team for reserving two suites right next to each other.

The triggering alarm sounds, making your heart race. This time you grab the test, deciphering what the faint lines mean. You ran out of the good pregnancy tests and you were too lazy to go out and get new ones.

“It’s positive!” You squeal, showing the home test to Max.

Max’s eyes widen, “We did it!”

“I'm so happy,” you tear up from joy, hugging Max’s shoulders. Nothing is stopping him tomorrow on the track. He’s going to ride this high as long as possible.

Max grabs your thighs, forcing you to wrap your legs around him. He carries you over to the bed, kissing your lips, your neck, your chest.

Max was going to make you scream out his name again.

There was little celebration. You and Max kept the news to yourselves for a while longer. You took every precaution on the book. You stopped traveling with Max afraid it was one of the causes of your first miscarriage. You took care of your diet, you did minimal exercise, took every prenatal vitamin you could find but much like the first time, it happened again.

This time you felt so defeated, like something was wrong with you. Like maybe you weren’t meant to bring a child into the world or become a mother.

Max found you on the balcony one night after it happened. It was freezing outside so he got a blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“‘I'm sorry,” you sniffle, not meeting his eyes. Your tears were cold against your cheeks.

“For what?” Max asks, watching you carefully. Your eyes red rimmed and nose runny.

“There’s something wrong with me and I can’t give us a baby,” you cry softly, wiping away at your tears.

You feel so ashamed and embarrassed. Having a baby shouldn’t be this fucking hard. You’ve done so much in life and this simple thing you can’t do. Something your body was designed to do.

“Hey, no. You know what the doctor said. There’s nothing wrong with you and there’s so many other ways we can have children together,” Max chides you, pulling his chair closer and grabbing your shoulders so you look at him.

“If there’s nothing wrong with me why does it keep happening?” You ask as your eyes well with more tears. They haven’t stopped in a good ten minutes.

“It’s not our time yet.” It’s the only thing Max can say. He doesn’t have all the answers in the world but there is one thing he’s sure of. “I love you no matter what.”

“I don’t want to go through this again.” Your bottom lip wobbles as you speak. The words getting caught on your throat.

It’s not like you don’t want children because you desperately do but you can’t go through another disappointment. More pain and more blood. More false hope.

“You don’t have to,” Max tells you, comforting you the best way he can. He picks you up, settling you on his lap as he wraps his arms around you. He kisses your head, coming up with words to make you feel better.

He doesn’t want a child if the process is going to cause you so much suffering. It’s hard seeing you like this when he’s used to seeing you be this independent strong woman, who broke barriers in a field of men.

He’s discovering a new side to you deep into your relationship. He loves you but it’s shocking to see you be this vulnerable when a lot of times you love to handle things on your own. In a way, he’s happy he’s able to be here with you and help you.

Monza | November 2023

In Formula One rumors spread like wildfire. Within the teams and its members and riders the reason for your break didn’t remain a secret for long.

It didn’t stop certain teams from reaching out and persuading you into joining them. As far as they know you’re not pregnant yet and you did promise to return one day.

As the only woman in the grid you pull in lots of sponsors and the media and fans love you. Having you on a team is a win all around, considering you also bring in trophies.

Ferrari is a big team showing their interest in you. They’ve sent your manager multiple invitations for you to come and visit Ferrari Headquarters. No strings attached just a simple tour and meeting.

It’s tempting. Driving for Ferrari is every F1 racers dream and to be invited to test out their car and talk business is an honor.

You went quietly to the meeting, undecided if it’s the choice you want to make. Mercedes awaits your return whenever you’re ready, having led them to victory many times alongside Lewis.

Oh, Toto Wolff has you in his sight constantly. If he knew you were at Monza he’d probably fly down and get you out. You’re one of his biggest assets yet.

“There's our princess,” Charles greets you, running up to you and giving you a big hug.

He missed having you around. The fans never let him forget of all the good times, constantly tagging him on instagram and twitter.

“Hey Charles,” you laugh as he sways you from side to side.

“I missed you,” he says as he guides you over to the garage.

“Missed me kicking your ass?” You quip, playfully pushing him.

“Please, competing against Max on my own is exhausting. Too much responsibility,” Charles admits.

“He’s having the time of his life.” Max has the most fun when there are challenges and Charles has proven to be a worthy one. Insults and all. He loves getting a rise out of him.

The Ferrari team sets you up with a bright red race suit, giving you a visual of what your future has in store.

The feel of the baclavla is familiar around your head and the weight of the helmet comforting. It’s been a year since you last wore the uniform and it feels like home.

You step into the car, slidding in the steering wheel. The crew gives you the signal to pull out and you do with a push on the gas.

The rumble of the engine is exhilarating as is the blend of colors around you. It comes back so naturally, knowing when to push the car when to break. Learning this car is easy, like it’s made for you.

It has the potential to be a winner, to help you achieve the goal of becoming world champion.

“Ready to join Scuderia Ferrari?” Frederic Vasseif asks you once you get out of the car. There’s a smugness to him. He knows you enjoyed it and you’re itching for more.

“I don’t know. Carlos seems to be doing really well,” you try to play it cool, taking off your helmet and baclavla to shake off your hair.

“He’s good but you’re the greatest,” Fred says, giving you a knowing look.

“If I accept it’s because I want to win the Championship,” you negotiate. Charles is the first driver and it makes sense he stays there since he’s been with the team longer but you will not sacrifice yourself for him.

“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Fred agrees, extending his hand to shake yours.

“The predestined and the princess?” Charles smiles, wrapping an arm around you.

You smile and bite your lip, “It’s time to take down Max Verstappen.”

No wonder the fans think there’s a long standing rivalry between you and Max. You talk a lot about taking him down and winning the championship. With the trust you two have he bites back with words of his own. It makes for quite a show. They’re going to lose it once it’s revealed you’re joining Ferrari.

Your joy returning home is palpable. Max notices it the moment you walk into your shared home in Monaco. The cats notice it too as they weave between your legs asking to be pet.

"Hi, love," Max greets you, placing his hands on your hips and kissing you. You wrap your arms your his neck loosely, smiling into the kiss.

He doesn't let you go when the kiss breaks, his thumbs caressing your back. You smile at him, a hand on his face, as your fingers brush over his stubble. He leans into it. “How did it go?”

“It's top secret," you say cheekily.

"Really?" Max follows along amusedly, "You can't even tell your dear husband Max Emilian?"

It's been an inside joke since you started dating that the person you're dating is Max Emilian and not Max Verstappen. Helps keep things separated to a certain degree but mostly it's funny.

"Well, if it's Max Emilian asking I can tell him that I've just signed with Ferrari and that Max Verstappen will have some serious competition next year," you tell him as your smile widens.

“Congratulations!" Max exclaims, hugging you tightly. You laugh is music in his ears. From the moment you stepped in he knew something changed. You were laughing and smiling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“I’m a Ferrari girl now and I’m going to take that title from you,” she boasts, playfully pushing him.

“That’s a big statement,” he says, playfully caging her in his arms. Max adores that her competitive streak is back, it's one of the things he fell in love with when you began dating.

Being married means being there in the bad and the good, in sickness and in health. He'll be by your side through it all but he'd rather have you be happy and competitive than depressed and anxious.

“What you think I can’t do it?” You laugh when he tries tickling you. Your this close to elbowing him if he doesn't stop.

Finally letting up, he cups your face and looks into your eyes as he says, “If there’s someone who is going to do it, it’s you. You're my girl after all.”

f1 posted on instagram: The Princess is back and in red. Everyone bow down. 📸: Reader wearing a Ferrari race suit posing in front of the new Ferrari SF-23. Comments: user8: holy shit she’s back

user95: this was not on my bingo card, but it was in my dreams every night since she left -> user57: like a wise woman once said in rome; this is what dreams are made of

user72: guess she had enough of that married life and is back to wreck these boys

user14: i might actually fucking cry. our queen is back and in ferrari red -> user98: red is definitely her color. -> user67: you know who's color it is too? charles... ->user53: you know who likes charles? max... ->user17: i can't with you 💀

user67: i want to see max squirm with both charles and her against him -> user55: please if anything it’ll turn him on -> user45: hell even i'm turned on

user88: wait does this mean she can’t curse at charles anymore? -> user68: don't worry, the second charles gets in her way it's coming. don't you remember that one time she almost crashed with lewis and she let him have it? -> user 90: i've never seen lewis be that fast outside of a car

user12: i’ve got my editing program ready, i’ll get all the edits. max x princess, predestined x princess, max x charles, i got them all -> user56: i'm not picky, i'll help -> user02: you should do one where she's walking in like in those wwe fights with the dramatic music

Monaco | Nov 2024

The conversation about the pregnancy is kept on pause. You and Max wait till you're back home in Monaco to continue it. It's fresh in your minds though as you try and make sense of he timing of it all.

There's only two more races to the season, you are so close to the end. You wish you hadn't found out till much later, they do say ignorance is bliss.

You're filled with fear and uncertainty. What if this pregnancy ends up like the rest? What if you give up the championship for something that might not even happen? But what if you chose the championship and give up a viable pregnancy?

The morning after arriving at Monaco you're in the kitchen with your laptop in front of you as you schedule an appointment with your doctor. The cup of coffee you made earlier is now cold as you could barely drink it with so many thoughts in your head.

You cover your face with your hands, groaning at the headache forming so early in the day.

Max finds you like that and he knows it's time to talk. He comes up behind you, pressing a kiss and resting his chin on your shoulder as he hugs you from behind.

"What's on your mind, schatje?"

You take a deep breath, focusing on him to try and gather your thoughts, "I don't know what to do, Maxie. What do I do?"

"I can't tell you what to do. I can tell you that I want to have a baby with you but I don’t want you to go through all that pain again or feel pressured that you need to do this for me. I love you and I want you to be happy. If it's choosing your career I'm here for you. If it's starting a family I'm here as well," Max says as he hugs you tighter until you relax against him.

You shake your head, lacing your fingers with his as they lie on your midsection. "It's the fact that the first two didn't end well and it was such a horrible experience. If I knew for a fact I was going to give birth to this baby I would drop the championship in a heartbeat."

"I'm happy with whatever you choose. Even if you decide that carrying a baby isn't for you. Later on we can try surrogacy or adoption."

It's 2024 and there are tons of options out there in the case you want to become parents. It doesn't have to be one way or no way. Plus, they are young and have their lives ahead of them.

"Really? You couldn’t be like one of the awful men who insist women need to have a baby? You’re making this hard on me," you lightly joke, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss it.

Max laughs along with you. He knows you've made a decision even if you haven't realized. He's only there to guide you. “You already made a decision, schatje.”

Your eyes return to your laptop where the appointment with the specialty clinic is displayed. “I need to give this pregnancy a chance. I mean think about it. I've raced, I've drank alcohol and it's still here. It happened against all odds, Maxie. What if it’s a sign? That the timing is right,” you say, recalling the conversation you had with him a year ago. “I just hate I need to withdraw from the rest of the races.”

Max made a decision that same moment, “I’ll pull out from the races too.” It feels shitty that because you're a woman you have to pull out the races for your safety and the baby's while he continues on like nothing has happened.

“What? That’s insane Max,” you exclaim, staring at him bewildered.

“It’s only fair. You have to do it to have OUR baby, why do you have to be the only one who quits?”

You laugh and shake your head, placing your hands on his chest, “You’re not doing that, Max. This is F1 and it’s ruthless which is why you’re so good at it. Besides, with last Sunday's race you're already ahead of me and there's no chance the others are catching up with two races to go. The title is yours," you reassure him, kissing the corner of his mouth, “It’s not my time to be a world champion yet and maybe it never will. I have to accept that."

Max scoffs, poking his tongue on his cheek, “No, you will be. Once you have this baby you’re coming back even if I have to give away my seat in Red Bull.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you hum, looking into his eyes.

“You beat me on your rookie year,” he reminds you.

Back when you started in F1 and neither you or Max were on the top you had friendly battles in the midst of the races. It wasn't for podium but it kept the fans entertained and recruiters eyes on you both. Max beat you most times but there was one day you beat him on a wet race which is unheard of.

“Once!”

“Once was enough!” He insists. Max fell in love with your competitive side, it didn't matter if you beat him or not. That day when you approached him with that big smile and malicious intent in your eyes he was done for.

“How will we handle the media?” He steers the conversation a different place. He's not sure how much longer he can keep the relationship a secret with a baby on the way.

“Same as always. They can’t know about us yet, Maxie. They will throw your name on the ground and say horrible things.”

If the media finds out that you're pregnant with Max's baby they will say it's sabotage cause he felt threatened that you were going to take the title from him. They don't care for details.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep this a secret,” he confesses, trying to reason with you.

“Not long okay? After the baby comes,” you promise him. After the baby comes you will tell the world everything.

F1_news tweeted: The Grid's Princess is withdrawing from the rest of the races this season due to her health. Not much is known yet. Carlos Sainz to take over her seat.

comments:

user56: not again please -> user97: i'm in tears -> user57: alexa play 'see you again' by charlie puth

user64: i hope she's doing okay and is able to return next year. she was so close on getting the championship

user76: i love the queen but i'm happy to get charlos back again! -> user34: it's very bitter sweet isn't it? -> user57: i wonder if she'll be back with ferrari next year? -> user45: well her contract is for two years so if she's okay when the next season starts i don't see why not -> user08: contracts mean nothing in F1 user04: get ready to witness a pouty max -> user 87: these next few races will be a piece of cake and he hates it -> user72: i love lando and charles but there's no way they are going to give him a hard time

user46: this is the end of the princess, who is going to want her back? -> user 43: get the fuck out of here you hater -> user345: who asked for your opinion?

F1_fanpage: The Grid's princess seen walking out of a clinic specialized in complicated pregnancies. 📸

user45: holy shit, it all makes fucking sense she’s pregnant -> user58: i didn't want to say anything but dizzy and nausea? it’s textbook pregnancy

user67: our queen is having a prince(ss) -> user176: who is the fucking dad? -> user404: he needs to be a part of F1 for her to still be around when she should be home resting

user47: she's glowing

user68: not her audibly rooting for carlos on the latest race -> user99: well it is only temporary and it's not like they kicked her out. she left because she had to -> user55: we love a supportive queen either way

user88: did ya'll see her interacting with max and charles after the race? they were so careful with her. it makes so much sense! -> user44: i'm hyperventilating we got a max hug! -> user 67: better yet we got a charles hug! -> user12: opening up my editing program as we speak

Part 2 Coming Soon

The world is aware you're now pregnant. You got a job working for the F1 social media and interview team during your pregnancy. Rumors keep spreading about who your husband and baby daddy is. Fans keep shipping you with Max and Charles. Max might just explode if he doesn’t tell everyone, but will he?

#`formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #formula one x reader #f1 fanfiction #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfiction #maxie ❤️#mv1 #mv33

2K notes · View notes

swordgrace · 9 months ago

Text

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃.

KINKTOBER WEEK ONE — RISK OF GETTING CAUGHT.

⤿ pairings: (S1) jon snow x fem!reader

⤿ word count: 3.4K.

⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), public sex, risk of getting caught, experienced reader, sub!jon, reader is definitely more dominant, heavy kissing, teasing, mild praise kink, cunnilingus, oral sex (fem!rec), p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, descriptions of cum, soft ending

⤿ note: lowkey I churned this out pretty quick, this was so so fun to write! honestly this is also dedicated to @dipperscavern , a lot of their jon snow content fuels my inspo for him, so thank you!

“You’ve got to be mad.”

Jon Snow’s bewildered, sour Northern timbre rattled throughout the stables, twisted with palpable uncertainty as you led him back toward bales of hay. His stomach was coiled into knots — knots of excitement, but nerves seemed to prevail.

Ever the honorable one, he often cautioned you against these hasty, secret meetings you orchestrated. A sliver of him thoroughly enjoyed the exhilaration of it all, the thrill of being with you between corridors and in darkness.

Trysts like these were exceedingly dangerous — if any question came into being regarding your virtue or his honor, Eddard would have his head for it, and you would be scorned.

“Yet you willingly partake,” A quip as sharp as a longsword dug into his side, prompting him to huff in response. “If this is madness to you, Jon, you have not yet lived a life.”

“Here, of all places?” Jon countered, tone bordering along exasperation and subtle excitement. The stables weren’t exactly the most conventional place to couple, but your options were thin. He feared someone stumbling upon the both of you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you peered at your brooding paramour through a half-lidded gaze, head canting to one side. “Here, of all places.” You parroted, tone dripping with amusement.

Gods, you were such a temptress.

It was difficult to resist you, the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, the hem of your dress shamelessly steeped in several inches of mud. Even the Northern chill could not ice his bones in your presence, as warm as the sands of Dorne.

The both of you were caught within the throes of youthful affection and what he called it, love. It pained him all the more to consider the Night’s Watch when he had you at his side.

“You do not have to follow me, Jon,” You countered, one hand twined with his, steering the doe-eyed boy back into the stables, enough for partial concealment. This was as reckless as it seemed — but you cared little for it. “You can always turn around.”

A pleading groan rippled from his throat, yet Jon relented, chasing after you like a wolf nipping at your heels. “What happens if we’re discovered? Your brother would take my head for this.” He murmured.

The thought of Jory Cassel dismantling his head from his shoulders was a gruesome thought — but not before Eddard Stark got to him first. Jon shuddered, dark brows creased with permanent frustration.

“Gods, you worry like an old crone,” Your bubbling laughter made his chest stir with warmth, the sensation spreading toward his stomach. “Why, you don’t trust me?” You suggested.

With furrowed brows, Jon’s countenance told a different story, one of incessant fear and boyish nerves, ones that only flourished in your presence. He seemed to accept defeat. “I do trust you.” He insisted.

Inching closer, you pressed a palm against his chest, nail picking at the finely-crafted leather. “We don’t have long,” You murmured, tone betraying your playful facade. “I wish it weren’t always like this.”

Jon exhaled, a somewhat trembling noise that finally evened out as moments ticked by. He reached to cup your jaw, calloused thumb soothingly stroking at your cheek. “Someday, it won’t be. I promise.”

The constant sneaking around had become exhausting — Jon was shocked that no one had discovered you yet. Even then, as much as he fought against brash decisions like these, it was all you had, and he would seize the moment.

With a cheshire smile, you rocked up upon your toes to kiss Jon, reveling in the sensation of his weeks-old stubble scratching your skin. You enjoyed his rugged appearance more than that of a freshly-shaved boy.

Sometimes you forgot that he was nine-and-ten, more a man now than boy — but that was who you’d fallen in-love with, the boy. Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell.

He could’ve been anything and nothing, and your feelings wouldn’t have changed. A bastard or not, Jon meant more to you than most. He was kinder, not spoiled or surly, yet still protective when it mattered most.

Jon very nearly buckled beneath the saccharine warmth of your mouth, absorbing every scrap of heat from you. Gods, you were the first woman he’d ever touched, ever laid with — he hoped that you would be the very last.

Your experience before he truly became your lover never soured him to you — in fact, it made him jealous. If Jon had it his way, he would’ve been your first for everything, but there was no use in dwelling in the past.

Fortune favored him, knowing that he had you now. His hands, initially hesitant, finally made their perch against the swell of your hips. The lovely outline of your body molded itself to his palms as you kissed him, digits toying with his dark curls.

“You could change your mind,” Your softened voice drifted between the both of you. “About me.” It was a gentle sigh in between kisses, your countenance becoming a touch melancholy.

A look of complete and utter shock made residence upon Jon’s features, lips agape at such a statement. “I wouldn’t,” He insisted, hooking an arm around your hips. “You know that I wouldn’t.”

Jon knew your being like the scrawlings of a map — every fine line, every landscape, the valleys and dips of your heart. You knew him just as much, and you knew that he was certain about you. It gave you comfort, placating reassurance in the face of insecurities.

It brought you solace to know that Jon intended on being with you, even if your union was somewhat unconventional. It was a love whispered between corridors — stolen glances, a yearning that transcended duty, touching behind hay bales.

“Good,” Your assertion made his belly erupt with fire, stoked by your constant teasing and prodding. Jon savored it nonetheless, even if it did make his features burn with scarlet. “Are you blushing?”

Seven Hells — Jon nearly tossed you into the hay for your inquiry. He huffed, playfully pinching the pliant part of your haunch. “No,” He grumbled, silently commiserating over your observant nature. “But you don’t make it any better.”

With a laugh as bright as the first inkling of springtime, it prompted Jon to smile too, even if it was threadbare. A comfortable silence drifted between you both, simmering with a thinly-veiled tension, wreathed in desire.

Desire was a perilous thing, especially for Jon.

He was still somewhat clumsy during your lovemaking, inexperience glimmering through, but he was an adept learner. Jon thoroughly enjoyed learning your body as one would learn to wield a broadsword.

The ardor that glistened within your hues made his heart pound like a hammer against an anvil, steel to be molded by your capable hands. He was often the more subservient one in your union, not that he minded it.

Jon seemed content to become lost within your gaze, reduced to a mere pup. Swallowing the growing lump within his throat, he bent to kiss you, disarmingly gentle as he squeezed at your hips.

A beat fluttered between the both of you; love blossomed, yet lust flourished like a swiftly-spreading fire. Soft fingers found their purchase against the nape of his neck, preening through his dark curls.

Beams of a dying sun pooled in from the gaps in the wood, painting your features with burnished gold. It was nearly dusk, and the castle would be settling — Jon’s incessant worrying began to diminish altogether.

Lips tangled together, a sweet dance that stole every wisp of air from his lungs. Jon felt your palms glide downward, planting themselves against his chest as you wordlessly directed him to the firm bales of straw.

“Wait,” Jon rasped, voice hoarse with desperation. Before you could slip into his lap, you ceased, head cocking to one side. “I want to taste you first.” He wanted it more than anything else.

A coy smile caused your lips to quirk, and you sauntered backwards a step or two, back hitting the wall of the stables. Brazenly, you gathered the material of your dress in one hand, slipping it up along your legs.

Jon did not waste a second, moving off of the straw and onto his knees, crawling to you like a starving animal; a wolf on all fours. Those dark hues of his sparkled with affection, even as he parted your legs with his shoulders.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, greedy laps causing you to shiver in delight. Nimble digits found their way to his crown of curls, coaxing him closer. “Jon.” You sighed his name as if it were a prayer.

It was ambrosial, your taste; a finest stout, the sweetest of nectars that stained his lips with your perfection. Jon sloppily lapped at your cunt, dutiful and attentive, ensuring to find every spot that made you gasp for air.

Nimble digits fisted into your tattered skirts, mouth agape as a myriad of throaty moans escaped you. Your hand roamed through his tresses, tugging and pulling whenever his tongue graced the pearl of your cunt.

Jon wasn’t tactful nor graceful, but passion and enthusiasm was all he really needed to please you. Each kiss he placed against your cunt drove you to madness, arching into the eager ministrations of his mouth.

If he were to perish, let it be between your thighs, exactly like this. An aching sensation throbbed along his length, straining against his leather trousers. He gripped your thigh, letting you rest one leg atop his shoulder.

The scratch of his stubble caused friction between his cheek and your thighs, yet it was a pleasant sting. You sang Jon’s praises, a myriad of hushed whines and wanton moans between the distant whistling of the Northern gales.

Warmth blossomed throughout your body, a familiar coil of heat unfurling within the pit of your stomach. A stab of pleasure struck at your nethers when Jon’s tongue briefly rolled over your clit, prompting you to tug on his curls.

A low groan rippled through his throat, reverberating as a grunt throughout his chest. He savored your taste, each twitch of your thigh, brusque tug of his tresses from your greedy hand.

Jon cared little for the mess, content to drink you in, rougher palm caressing against your thigh before trailing down to your calf. He squeezed again, to ensure that you were real and not some lascivious fantasy he’d dreamt of.

You were everything — flesh and blood, the lament that echoed his name, a lover so beautiful that he dared not look away. Jon did not consider himself a romantic, but he found himself putting in the effort with you.

He devoured you like a man starved, a hungry wolf, seeking its final meal. Jon continued to trace your cunt with his tongue, kissing you wherever he could. Your little tugs of his tresses often coaxed him further into your heat.

As his lips rolled over the pearl of your cunt again, your knees buckled, ecstasy mounting, electrifying your very veins. He did not cease, tongue stoking the fire, delighted to lap at your core until you forced him to stop.

Tugging at his tousled curls, you pried Jon away from you, flushed with a delicious shade of scarlet. Warmth permeated your skin, a heat that sank into your bones, kept you oblivious to the growing cold that came with dusk.

His chin glistened with your slick, pliant lips seeking your mouth. “You are so handsome.” You purred, watching Jon preen beneath the softness of your compliment. You thought him to be perfect in every way imaginable.

Rising to his feet, Jon did not resist when you began to push him back toward the bale of straw, palm planted against his chest as he sat. He was more than willing, peering up at you through thick lashes.

“You’re beautiful,” Jon reciprocated your kindly words, timbre steeped in an awestruck appreciation for you. His breath hitched within his throat when you slid into his lap, hitching your skirts up towards your hips. “Seven Hells.” He groaned.

Excitable hands grasped your hips once more, brazenly sinking towards your derrière as you kissed him. Jon’s sigh was audible as he returned such a heated kiss, brows creased in concentration.

There was a lack of uncertainty in his actions, and in the beginning, he was often unsteady and hesitant. Now, Jon touched you greedily, wanting more of you, savoring the sensation of your body pressed so closely to his.

Able to taste your own nectar upon his tongue, you allowed one hand to clasp at the nape of his neck, the other slyly working to slip beneath his tunic. Jon was growing in muscle, flesh as pale as a moonlit snowfall, broad-shouldered and comely.

Your dress would be riddled with pieces of hay in the aftermath, but it was all worth it. Your kisses were rather domineering, but disarmingly gentle. Perhaps your desire to take initiative always lingered in your entanglements, but your love for him never faded.

Jon let his kiss linger, lips pressing to your jaw, and then to your throat. A shiver iced your spine with anticipation, hand traveling from beneath his tunic toward the laces of his trousers.

It was then that you scanned his features for any hints of hesitation or uncertainty. “Do you want this, even still?” You uttered, lips tugging into a reassuring smile. He did not seem as nervous as before.

With a nod, he reached to cup your jaw, pressing a chaste kiss to your brow. “More than anything.” The rasp within his tender tone filled your stomach with an eruption of butterflies, gooseflesh tingling along your skin.

There was certainly no rush, but with daylight burning and Jon expected to be in his quarters soon, you began to act with haste.

Eager fingers unraveled the coase ties of his breeches, with Jon attempting to aid you wherever he could. With bated breath, you looked to him, brimming with a thinly-veiled adoration.

His hands held your hips, allowing you to maneuver yourself as you saw fit, freeing his cock from its confines. You hovered, soft palm guiding his length to your slick cunt. Jon inhaled — a sharp, poignant noise that signaled relief.

“Jon,” You moaned, grasping for his broad shoulders, still shrouded in leather. Gods, you wished you could see him bare, unobstructed — he was surely a ravishing sight. “Gods, I missed you.”

Jon groaned at the sweetness of your words, spoken through a wanton moan. He held you close, hands tracing the outline of your curvaceous physique through your gowns.

Twilight painted the skies above Winterfell, bringing with it the bitter bite of nightly chill and a canvas of stars above. Darkness settled in throughout the stables, save for the burning of dying braziers within the stables.

Even through such slim illumination, Jon could make out your countenance, a picture of beauty, contorted into a look of bliss. He was at your mercy, slumped back against some of the bales, letting you ride him as you would a broken gelding.

Intermingled noises of breathy moans and strenuous pants reverberated in the space around you, heat prevailing where the cold could not.

Jon shuddered at the feeling of your cunt, tight and warm around him, clenching around his cock with each roll of your hips. You took him perfectly, as if you were made for him, molded together.

It was a sluggish start, agonizingly so, bodies finding moments to adjust to one another, grow accustomed. You drew yourself up, his cock filling you in such a pleasant way, nothing discomforting about it.

The way in which you milked him, moved agonizingly slow, allowing him to feel your cunt tighten around him — it was nearly overwhelming.

The very image of grace, tarnished with lust; a maiden worth worshiping. Jon huffed, chest erupting with a string of pants and soft groans, lips agape as you adopted a steady rhythm.

His hands caressed circles into your hips, dark hues wide and mesmerized, doelike in their silent appraisal of you. Through the moonlit dusk of the stables, you met his gaze, blushing beneath the intensity of it.

A whimper of bliss bubbled from your lips as you became invigorated in your pace, rocking yourself up and down along his cock, aided by his grasp upon your hips.

The lewd, crass union of flesh against flesh joined the ambiance, yet all he could focus on was you, the lovestruck look within your eyes, exuberance glittering beneath. He kneaded along your thighs, squeezing when the pleasure mounted.

“Perfect,” A soft sputtering between exhilarated breaths, enough to ensnare Jon’s attention. “Gods, Jon, you’re perfect.” Such wanton praise nearly made him spill his seed into you then and there.

His hips stuttered, bucking off of the bale and right into you, cock reaching new depths. It made you moan, significantly noisier this time, enough for Jon to become mildly concerned about someone investigating.

A familiar coil of heat began to unfurl within the pit of your stomach, just as it did his own. Jon sat up enough to seize your lips in a kiss, one that blossomed with passion, letting his affections bleed through.

Your pace was tantalizing, nothing too swift to let it feel sloppy and rushed, yet fervent enough to make his head swim with the haze of desire. Jon’s mouth did not part from yours until you drew away, only to release another moan.

Jon fought against his release, not wanting it to end so quickly, stomach tight as could be. He let out a string of sighs, vocalizing your comeliness, digits squeezing into your hip once more.

“Don’t stop.” He huffed, and if he could plead with you, he would’ve. Your current rhythm was perfect, made to torment him as you sank yourself down upon his cock again.

Your cunt clenched pathetically, snug around his length as you continued to ride him, his cock bottoming out within you. It was a perfect storm of sensations, ones that made you delirious with desire, crying out to the heavens.

It was your release that came first, and it was swift — the intensity of it nearly blinded you, white-hot and sticky as you began to still. The tightness of your cunt sent Jon cascading over the edge.

Jon’s swift thinking caused you to move off of him, with seconds to spare as he spilled himself across your thighs, ropes of seed painting your flesh. Embarrassment rippled through him, but you understood why he didn’t come undone inside of you.

Chests rose and fell with labored sighs, basking in the aftermath of your tryst. Pieces of straw had stuck themselves to your dress, to his clothing, to his dusky curls.

It was difficult not to let your seriousness diminish in the wake of your orgasm, body tingling with such bliss. You couldn’t help but giggle at the ridiculousness of this — the stables, the disheveled hay, your recklessness.

He found himself smiling with you, dutifully assisting in cleaning his seed off of your thighs with the handkerchief tucked away within his tunic. Your shared joy brought him comfort.

“What will Lord Stark think of your unkempt state?” You teased, plucking golden twigs of hay from his hair, nose wrinkled with mild amusement. “Romping around in the hay?”

Jon huffed, eyes crinkling with mirth as he pulled you in for a kiss, allowing it to linger, knowing that he would be parted from you soon enough. “If I’m lucky, Lord Stark won’t see me.” He mused.

You would pray to the Old Gods that Jon was not accosted by his stern-faced father. “If you’re unlucky?” It was not something that Jon wanted to consider, but he did for the sake of your playful inquiry.

“We’ll have to find a different location.”

#jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #jon snow x y/n #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones smut #game of thrones imagine #hotd x reader #got x reader #jon snow #jon snow smut #jon snow fanfic

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ptergwen · 24 days ago

Note

imagining a blurb where peter sleeps over at readers dorm for the first time and they haven’t done anything yet but he wakes up with morning wood and he’s trying to make it go down but she wakes up and helps get rid of it 🤭

the situation

ask box | taglist | blurb masterlist | main masterlist

w/c: 1,271

warnings: 18+ content! oral sex (m receiving), language

a/n: oh absolutely! i liked this one so much it became a full oneshot, happy reading friends (also i was so tempted to use a gif from That scene in far from home iykyk)

you wake up to peter shifting around behind you. he was here late last night, so he ended up staying over. you'd naturally been squished together in your small dorm bed, but neither of you minded. you took the opportunity to cuddle throughout the night.

at some point, you ended up with your back to peter, causing you to be pressed up against him. it was no surprise when he woke up hard. he doesn't want you to wake up to it, though. you've only been dating for a few weeks and haven't done much beyond make out. this isn't the most ideal way to introduce more into your relationship.

peter tries to wiggle out from behind you so he can go to the bathroom and deal with his situation. of course, he'd slept closest to the wall, which makes things a little difficult. he feels you start to stir.

"hey, go back to sleep," peter whispers, squeezing your waist. "where are you going?" you mumble. you look at him over your shoulder. "just the bathroom. i’ll be right back," he kisses your shoulder. "mhm. i know what you're gonna do in there," you give peter a lazy smirk. he scrunches up his nose.

"you, uh... felt that?"

"kind of hard not to."

"sorry," peter chuckles. "don't be. it's just, like, morning wood," you reassure, rolling over to face him. "i could help you take care of it, though," you search peter's eyes. his brows raise, a small smile playing on his lips. "are you sure? don't feel like you have to." his hand settles on your hip, his touch light.

"i don't feel like i have to," you echo. "i want to. do you want me to?"

peter nods, vigorously.

you grin and push at peter's chest, prompting him to lie on his back. he helps you on top of him. he tilts his head up and captures your lips in a slow kiss. you let your lips slot with his, your legs coming to rest at either of peter's sides. his bulge presses into your center. a noise of relief falls from his lips, making you giggle. you break the kiss and move further up his body so you're positioned over his torso instead.

"not that. i have another idea."

"what is it?"

"i'm getting to it."

you take peter's face in your hands and kiss him again. he eagerly kisses you back. he bunches up your top so he can wrap his fingers around your waist. his tongue slips into your mouth, thumbs running up and down your sides. you're starting to get a bit needy yourself, but right now you're focusing on peter.

"one sec," you breathe. you grab your water bottle from your desk and take a few sips in preparation. peter leans in for another kiss when you're done, but you start to make your way down his body, fingers trailing along his abs as you go. you feel them flex underneath your touch, his breathing becoming faster. your pinkie dips inside his boxers and brushes over his lower abs.

"what are you- oh."

you stroke peter's cock in your hand, sitting on your knees and smiling up at him. he takes off his boxers to make things easier. you look into his eyes as you lower your head, hand still wrapped around his cock. peter bites his lip and holds your gaze.

his eyes flutter closed when you swirl your tongue around his tip. you do this a few times, then bring your hand to the head of his cock and stroke downwards, using your spit to coat his length. peter moves a hand down to support the back of your head and encourage you to do what you both know he's waiting for. you let your lips wrap around peter's cock, taking him into your mouth.

"fuck," peter pants, his head falling back against the pillows. you fit as much of him in your mouth as you can, your hand staying at the base of his cock to stroke what doesn't. you begin to bob your head up and down, almost instantly earning a moan from peter. he carefully pulls your hair out of your face and holds it back for you.

you glide your tongue against peter's length every time you move your head. the sensation of it, combined with being in your mouth, drives him absolutely crazy. you can tell by the way his cock twitches and the little noises he makes. your mouth and hand continue to work him, and his eyes are screwed shut in pure bliss when you peek up at him.

"baby..." peter breathes out. you hum in response. "i’m close, really close. where do you want me to finish?" he asks. you stop sucking him off briefly to answer, and for a bit of air.

"in my mouth."

"you wanna swallow?"

you hum again. you continue to stroke him and lick along his length so you don't lose momentum. peter looks down at you with hooded eyes. he lets go of his makeshift ponytail for you, instead stroking your hair gently.

"that's hot. i didn't know you were into that."

"with the right person."

peter smiles, a genuine smile even in the lust filled moment. you return it before taking his cock into your mouth again. you challenge yourself to go a little further this time, until he's just hitting the back of your throat. peter groans at the feeling.

you find your same rhythm from before, repeat your same movements, and it isn't long until peter is reaching his high. his hips buck up and he holds your head in place, instinctively pushing into your throat, but he stills his hips before he pushes too far.

"fuck, y/n/n. is this okay?"

you respond by opening your mouth wider, letting more of him in. with your permission, peter spills down your throat, a series of short, breathy moans leaving his lips. he waits until he's finished to pull his hips back. you swallow the rest of the cum that fills your mouth. peter holds your face in his hands, looking down at you in awe. his thumb brushes over your lower lip, which curves into a smile.

"better?" you ask. "way better. let me just..." peter puts his boxers back on with rosy cheeks, as if he wasn't just in your mouth. "c'mere."

you crawl towards the top of the bed. peter grabs your hips and sits you in his lap, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. you smile into it. one hand is on the back of his neck, the other in his hair. this morning is the first time you've seen it curly, since it's usually gelled back. you like the way peter looks when he's just woken up.

"it wasn't too soon for us to do that, right?" peter asks quietly. "because i don't wanna rush anything." he sets a hand on your thigh, eyes finding yours. "i don't think so. we both wanted to, and it was my idea anyway," you remind him, playing with his soft curls. "okay, just wanted to make sure," peter grins.

"i appreciate the help, by the way," he says lowly. his fingers trail along your thigh. "yeah," you murmur, looking down at his hand.

you really like the way peter's touch feels, too.

his hand is traveling higher, and his smile has been replaced by a smirk. you press your forehead to his, lips ghosting over his and breath fanning across his face. his nose nudges yours.

"how about i return the favor?"

tags

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety @girlinlovewithlove @marvelgurl @superlegend216 @angelinabelovedballerina @moniffazictress11 @superlegend216 @doubledizzy22 @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @starlight-starks @hollandsangel @ellebutnotwoods @tayyx @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @winchestersgirl222 @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @niktwazny303 @thismessymasterpiece @alina02 @itsjanedeluca @idkeverythingistakennn @prancerrparkerr @urfayevorite @getwellsoontana @deanswifeyy @marvelita86 @uhhhj13iguess

#peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker writing #peter parker oneshot #peter parker #mcu peter x reader #mcu peter parker #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland writing

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bi-bard · 2 months ago

Text

Matchmaker - Dr. Jack Abbot Imagine [The Pitt]

Title: Matchmaker

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot X Reader

Word Count: 1,972

Warning(s): none

Summary: Robby recruits (Y/n) for some help in setting up a blind date for a dear friend. It turns out that Robby is a significantly better liar than anyone thought he was.

Author's Note: Hello! This is just a quick and cute story to get myself in the actual habit of writing again. Also, check out my prompt list!

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I didn't tend to spend a lot of time in the Pitt.

It wasn't that I had anything against the department. I was just never a fan of emergency medicine.

Instead, I had made myself at home working primarily with pediatric patients. Kids rarely turned violent or aggressive, and they were almost always more curious than skeptical.

However, there were times when I would get called down to help with a case or if they needed to get someone moved to the unit.

My willingness to do that would end up being exactly how I fell into Robby's trap.

We were just walking out of a patient's room. I was planning to make a beeline for the elevator. I assumed Robby was heading for another patient or the nurse's station. Instead, he followed me over.

"I have a question for you," he said.

"Ah, I knew you didn't actually need a consult on that case," I pointed at him.

"Yes, I did," he argued. I raised an eyebrow. "I swear!"

"Robby, you are such a bad liar."

"Anyway," he avoided my accusations completely. "I have a question."

"What is it?"

"I'm trying to set up a blind date for a friend of mine, but I can't decide what a good idea would be," he explained. "I'm used to choosing for me and whoever I'm with, not other people. Any suggestions?"

"So these people have no idea who they're meeting with?" I clarified. He nodded. "I always thought a safe bet for a first date is dinner at a place that's halfway decent. Doesn't have to be the nicest place in town, but it should be something better than McDonald's, y'know? That's what I usually go for."

"Got it," he nodded.

"Who are you setting up?"

He paused for a moment, like he was embarrassed about his idea. "Dr. Abbot."

"Is Jack on board with this idea?"

"He doesn't know about it yet."

I scoffed. "Good luck with that."

The elevator dinged before Robby could say any more about it.

I felt myself frown a bit when the doors closed behind me.

I would be lying if I said that I didn't think Jack Abbot was attractive. We had grown decently close over the last few years. I'd like to think we talked more than normal for people from different departments and commonly on opposite shifts. We had each other's numbers and were able to help each other when needed. Whether that be physically with a patient or emotionally after a case hadn't gone how we hoped.

He was a bit gruff when I first met him, but the more we got to know each other, it all made sense. Most of the time, that was just his humor. I had even started using it from time to time, but it was more difficult to fit into conversation when working around kids.

I ended up being kind of amazed at how well the two of us had gotten along. We had gone from me thinking that he hated me to us spending time in the park together after anyone else who had joined us had gone home.

To put it simply, I wasn't exactly ecstatic about the idea of Robby setting Jack up with someone else.

So how I ended up being Robby's accomplice is beyond me.

Robby kept texting me ideas and updates. Questions about what restaurants looked good or what I would say to get someone to agree to a blind date. I admired his commitment to this plan of his. Robby was nothing if not a good friend.

And then, he asked me to meet him at the restaurant that "we" had sent Jack to. He thought that we should sit at a separate table and keep an eye on the date. Just to see if it went really well or went horribly wrong and we needed to be there for emotional support.

That was the day that I realized that I was going to need to develop a backbone to say no to him at some point.

It was too late for that now.

I was standing in front of a decent restaurant in a nice outfit... and there was no sign of the mastermind behind the evening.

I texted him a few times, asking where he was, what he was doing, had Jack backed out, had the other person backed out. I paced the street a few times as I did this, hoping to spot some sign of him or Jack at that point.

I was still looking around the sidewalk when Robby called me.

"Hey, where the hell are you," I asked. "I thought we were meeting outside."

"I realized that it might look suspicious if Jack showed up and we were just standing there," he explained quickly. "Head inside, tell them you're with a party under Michael, and they should just walk you to the table."

"Okay..."

"Hurry!"

"Hold your horses," I muttered as I made it to the host stand. "Hi, I'm with a party under the name Michael. The other person should already be here."

The host checked their screen before nodding. "Right this way."

I followed right behind, keeping Robby on the line in case there was some mix-up. I was becoming more certain of that happening as we continued walking and I couldn't see him anywhere.

Everything clicked when we got closer and I saw Jack sitting at a table by himself. I paused for a moment, taking another look around the room. When my eyes landed on Jack again, he looked away from me, instead choosing to focus on anything but me.

"Robby... what did you do?"

"Have fun on your date," he replied cheerfully. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Robby-"

He hung up before I could finish my quiet threat.

I took a deep breath before smiling at the host and thanking them for their help. Then, I sat in the seat across from Jack.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi," he replied, still not looking at me for longer than a second. There was a pause between us before Jack forced an uncomfortable chuckle. "Y'know, I thought I couldn't be scared of everyday life anymore. However, the look on your face is terrifying."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Did you know about this?"

"Not until a few minutes ago when Robby told me to look for you."

"You weren't involved in this plan at all?"

"Nope." he shook his head. "Robby just told me it was a blind date and wouldn't let me get out of it."

"Okay," I muttered, still eyeing him suspiciously.

My suspicions were paused when the server came up and asked what we wanted to drink.

After that, Jack and I both seemed to settle into some kind of normalcy. We were able to ignore the circumstances and trickery that had led us to this point.

I never realized how much of Jack's life I didn't know anything about. I never realized how much of my life I had never told him about. It felt like there had just been this blank space between us that was just finally being cleared up after all these years.

And it was really nice.

As I was chuckling at some story from his early days out of med school, Jack asked about my early days.

"Oh God, I definitely almost killed Robby once."

"What?"

"It was an accident, I swear," I explained. "I wasn't just casually feeling homicidal. It was a brief moment of me being in the Pitt during some short-staffing incident. We had to use a scalpel for something, I don't remember what. I just remember the person was not awake one moment and then he was. He slapped my arm and- I am not a super strong person- I somehow ended up stabbing Robby in the shoulder."

"Shit," Jack scoffed. "That wouldn't have killed him, surely."

"No, the stabbing wouldn't have. The heart attack that I almost gave him on the other hand..."

"And he still relies on you for consults?"

"Doesn't mean that he trusts me to hold a scalpel."

"Got a good point there," he shook his head as he laughed again.

I chuckled with him as I let my hand sit on the table. My fingers barely brushed his. I was nervous to push too far.

Jack looked down at our hands before shifting his hand forward, so it could rest over mine. I grinned, feeling my face warm up at the small moment.

It was honestly unfair that he could make me feel so nervous. It was just rude.

The rest of our dinner went so well that it actually confused me. I was expecting to mess things up between us at some point. Maybe it was just my annoying, consistent sense of self-doubt messing with me at the worst time (like usual).

When all was said and done, and the bill was paid, Jack walked with me to my car that had been parked nearby.

I was originally planning to just say good night and go home with nothing but a little bit of hope that things went well after this.

Jack didn't let me get that far, speaking up before I had a chance to

"I- I know that tonight wasn't what you had planned," he said. "And I know that Robby trying to be clever kind of threw a wrench in the whole thing. I'm sorry that he thought that was a good idea-"

"Jack," I touched his arm. "It's fine. I know you weren't involved. None of that stuff matters."

"Okay," he smiled at me, seeming to relax a little bit. "Well, then I was hoping that maybe we could do this again?"

I stepped closer to him. "Maybe. Or maybe next time, instead of just dinner, I could introduce to some new movies that you have previously refused to watch."

"Is this about those weird, symbolic horror movies?"

"No," I replied. "It's actually about one of those very symbolic drama movies that you have continued to call confusing even though you haven't seen any of them."

Jack chuckled to himself as I explained myself. He took my rambling as a chance to step even closer to me. "I'll watch whatever you want if it means that I can take you out again."

"Is that right?"

He nodded as he touched my sides.

I glanced down at where his hands were, feeling my face warm up as I realized what was about to happen.

I don't know what possessed me, but I felt a need to rush the process. I reached up and touched his face, leaning in to press my lips to his.

The kiss was slow, gentle. I was expecting there to be some kind of awkwardness, but there wasn't any. It felt like we had done this a hundred times.

I pulled back slowly. I was certain that I was smiling like an idiot, but so was Jack at that point.

"God, I feel like I'm in high school again," he chuckled and looked away, seemingly trying to hide how red his

I laughed with him before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. "Good night, Jack."

His eyes found mine again. "Good night, (Y/n)."

Jack didn't move away from where he was standing until I had gotten into my car and had started driving. I knew because when I glanced in my mirror, I saw him standing there with his hands in his pockets and that huge smile still on his face.

I only acknowledged how warm my face had gotten after I was certain he had no way of seeing me. I put my hand on my cheek and laughed at myself.

Goddammit.

I hated admitting when Robby was right.

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Everything - @geeksareunique

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#fanfiction #imagine #x reader #the pitt imagine #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #jack abbot imagine #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot fanfiction #shawn hatosy imagine #shawn hatosy fanfiction #shawn hatosy x reader #dr jack abbot imagine #dr jack abbot fanfiction #dr jack abbot x reader

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quirrrky · 10 months ago

Text

—•✦ THE BOY IS MINE

OIKAWA, KUROO, BOKUTO showing you that he belongs to you and you to him

≡ NOTES ⋮ I'M BACCKKK! and I'm super excited, can;t wait to fangirl w/ y'all! I'm gonna cri 😭 I miss my boys sm T^T bokuto's made me giddy and kuroo's got me smiling like shit...don't get me started with oikawa!

OIKAWA

You were on the sidelines watching the man you adored so much being adored by so many other girls. No lies, some of them were prettier than you, you’d think. They could be a good match for your boyfriend.

Still, you didn’t bother. Tooru always assured you of your worth and how perfect you were for him in every sense––the most beautiful in his eyes.

Tooru delivered an impactful serve, and the crowd cheered including the other girls beside you. Even from afar, he sent you a smile with a matching flirty wink. The girls squealed with so much giddiness, probably thinking it was for them.

He cast another glance at you, which you returned primly.

You were always his number one fan. You might not be on par with him when it came to Volleyball, but you didn’t mind being his cheerleader, his anchor and the source of his strength whenever he’d feel inadequate.

You were secured and not moved by how many fangirls he had until now. The reporter pulled Tooru to the side together with a known female Volleyball player who’s around the same age as him.

The two of them were the top players of their teams–the most competent. The reporter and everybody else simply admired seeing the both of them side by side.

“Oh! They look so good together!” You heard those around you murmured.

“Maybe they’re dating...” The others speculated.

A bitter sting gnawed inside you. The image of Tooru happily playing Volleyball with a partner who could really challenge him head-to-head was making it difficult for you to breathe.

You were lost in your thoughts when you suddenly felt a hand around your wrist, gently dragging you somewhere.

T-Tooru?

He brought you by his side and laced his arm firmly around you.

“Practice and perseverance are totally the keys in winning but for me it’s not just that,” Tooru responded to the reporter. “We all need a lucky charm, I tell you.” He pulled you closer to him, shifting his gaze to lovingly study your face, saying, “And I got mine right here.”

You blushed, feeling the heat crawling all over your face. The crowd squealed and hollered yet they didn’t matter in that moment.

The reporter ended the interview with lighthearted teasing directed at you and Tooru, prompting the start of the last match.

“How ‘bout a good luck kiss, huh?” He teased.

“W-What’re y-” You weren’t even able to finish as he already placed a sweet peck on your lips. “Tooru!” You complained when he parted, and he replied by playfully sticking his tongue out.

Your fingers travelled your lips. Perhaps, you’ve got nothing to worry about after all.

KUROO

It’s a big day for you and your boyfriend. It would be the first time he’d be giving a welcome remarks to open his institution’s black-tie event. You were even proud to be the one who did his speech.

As his extra special plus one, he never left your side with both of you just keeping things, hands to yourself, acting as a professional and sober couple.

However, you were bothered to say the least. You always knew that you had a fine boyfriend. He looked straight out of a novel after all. Tall, handsome and with a good suit to complete the look.

Tetsurou seemed like every billionaire bad boy in the books you’d encounter in bookstores’ new adult section. It’s no wonder that the girls in his company party all had their eyes on him like he’s a piece of hunky meat they’d jump on at any moment.

Deep inside, you’d want to be swallowed by the universe below. You were never insecure about your looks, well, maybe sometimes you were like right now! Were you not even pretty enough for them to keep their attraction to themselves? Were you not playing the eye candy part so well?

Do you even look good beside him?

Black dress, pretty face and hypnotic smile all amplified by the sweet scent of honey—you’re Kuroo’s most prized possession, not that he treats you as an object. Well, yes, to put it simply you’re the object of his desires, adoration and affection.

Wasn’t it obvious that you were with him? Yeah right, call him petty, but he couldn’t bear the eyes of these bastards on you.

Hell, pretty was even an understatement when it came to you. As much as he wanted you to be revered for being the goddess that you are, he still couldn't accept all the gawking you’re receiving and him being disregarded like he wasn’t even there when he’s the boyfriend, the future husband and the forever person.

He promised he’d behave himself and keep the PDA on low since today’s a formal event, but it looked like he won’t be keeping up with that anymore.

Jolted, your shoulders rose as Tetsu slithered his arm around your waist. He tugged you closer to him so you were both attached to the hip. You just froze in surprise when he leaned, placed a kiss on your forearm and dropped another one on your shoulder.

You felt the heat rushing to your face. Your eyes held his as they met. “What...what are you doing?” you whispered and he propped his chin on your shoulder.

“Showing them who you belong to.”

Internally, you’re partying. You’d be lying to say that you didn’t want that because you definitely want to show all these girls that Tetsu would only have his eyes on you. “Okay, just don’t overdo it.”

A lopsided grin appeared on his face. “Not very sure about that.”

BOKUTO

At last, your fiancé, superstar athlete Bokuto Koutaro, will be arriving home tonight. It has been several months since he’s been away to train and to participate in the Olympics. Now, he’ll be coming home after playing with his utmost best.

You were standing, waiting for him in anticipation at the airport. This was the moment you’d been waiting for and your face immediately lit up after seeing him walk from the arrivals. His eyes were still sleepy with his pillow still latched around his neck.

In anticipation, you took a step forward approaching him, but the reporters and his fans beat you to it. Now, he’s swarmed with the crowd taking pictures and asking him questions. Some of them were even bumping into you and all you could do was watch. You were just a mere ordinary citizen, lurking in the shadows of those who admire him.

You clutch on your chest. You were truly happy for him. Genuinely happy for the recognition he’s receiving. He deserved every bit of it, but...How you’d wish to be closer to him. Be the home he goes back to where he could be just Koutarou, the loving and silly boy you came to love. You just missed him so much.

A bitter smile appeared on your face, surrendering to your fate until his eyes met yours across the sea of people. He glowed radiantly, beaming at the sight of you. Without hesitation and despite everybody else around, he made a way for himself towards you.

With so much excitement, you yelped as he hugged you tight and carried you that your legs hooked around him in reflex. Koutarou peppered kisses over your face cooing so lovely that he finally got to see and be with his most adorable Y/N. You giggled, getting a little ticklish with his kisses.

“Babe, babe! Not here!” You protest in middle of chuckling. “There are people around.”

Koutarou pouted. “But I miss you so much.”

“Me too,” you said in a wide grin and he giggled like a school kid finally getting his favorite toy as present.

He rubbed his nose against yours. “Let’s go home!”

@pixelcafe-network

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witchywithwhiskey · 4 months ago

Note

For your sweethearts game, I spun the wheel and got sweet talk. Thought Johnny Storm could be a fun combination for the prompt. Hopefully this inspired something 💜

sweet talk

pairing: boyfriend!johnny storm x female reader

summary: in a dark, secluded booth in the corner of a nightclub, johnny storm sweet talks you into getting into some kind of trouble on valentine's day.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, public sex, drunk sex, consensual sexual coercion, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming, hand job (over the pants), roughness and rough body play, choking, marking/hickeys, possessiveness, dirty talk, degradation kink, objectification kink, praise kink, pet names (firelight, baby), aftercare, love confessions, sweet ending, established relationship

word count: 4.4k

a/n: ahhh Em, 'sweet talk' was such a good prompt to pair with Johnny Storm!! we all know that man has a mouth on him 👀🤭 i was originally going to try to write a different fic for this, but then i saw this post going around and i couldn't help but use it as inspiration for our dirty talking Johnny! anyway thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

Johnny Storm could sweet talk you into anything. Even when the thing in question was most certainly a crime and could very likely get the both of you in a lot of trouble. Case in point…

It was Valentine’s Day, and a Friday, and Johnny didn’t want to end the night after the swanky dinner he’d taken you to. So you’d ended up at some exclusive Manhattan nightclub with a hundred disco balls hanging from the ceiling and refracting the strobing lights on the crowded dance floor.

Since Johnny was the Johnny Storm—the most charming and charismatic member of the Fantastic Four—it hadn’t been difficult to get a corner booth on the upper floor of the club with the other VIPs. You’d even been granted your own server, who’d taken your order and returned a few minutes later with your drinks.

The champagne from dinner was still bubbling in your blood as you sipped on the sweet, Valentine’s Day drink you’d ordered. You’d chosen it for the obscene amount of maraschino cherries it came with, and it wasn’t long before half the glass was gone.

The sugar and liquor went right to your head, filling it with fluffy clouds of desire, which thickened the longer you sat on the plush leather seat of the booth, warmth curling in your belly and urging you to act impulsively.

Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you leaned into Johnny’s strong, steady form, your hands smoothing up the planes of his chest, copping a feel of his thick muscles through his dress shirt. He’d shed his jacket as soon as you sat down, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves, making him look a little rumpled in the most delicious way.

One minute you were watching Johnny take a sip of his drink—an old fashioned that had come with its own cherries—your eyes fixed on the way his jaw worked, the long line of his throat bobbing in a way that was far too enticing… Then, the next thing you knew, you were licking the taste of the sweet fruit and bitter alcohol from his mouth.

Both your drinks sat forgotten on the table as you made out with your boyfriend, your lips working furiously to devour each other. Tongues slipped into hot, greedy mouths, while teeth nipped and lips sucked, fingers digging and clinging desperately.

The rest of the club fell away, your hands growing bolder as you sank deeper into Johnny and the haze of lust clinging to your skin. Moans spilled from your mouth unbidden, being swallowed up by the pounding music of the club.

In the dim corner booth, it felt like you and Johnny were the only two people in the world. But the rational side of your mind—which hadn’t been entirely obliterated by the drinks and desire burning through your body (at least, not yet)—was very much aware you were still in public.

So when Johnny suggested you take things further, right there in the club, where anyone could see, you knew better than to say yes.

“Johnny, we could get arrested,” you whined into his mouth, your fingernails scraping through the thick scruff on his jaw. You loved it this length—too long to be stubble, but too short to be a beard. It felt divine against your smooth cheeks, and especially between your soft thighs…

“Only if we get caught,” Johnny said smoothly, his breath ghosting over your lips and teasing you enough that you let out a desperate, keening sound. His smug chuckle sent a ripple of desire down your spine, settling heavily between your already squirming legs.

The bass of the music in the club was pounding through the floor and the seat of the booth, and you could feel it throbbing between your thighs, matching the rate of your thrumming pulse. A heady, almost feral need pumped through your body, and you shifted even closer to Johnny, kissing him again with feverish lust.

Arousal was clouding your mind, blotting out the rational arguments that had seemed so important a moment before.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you shoved Johnny’s hand underneath the hem of your dress. You were so wet, so worked up by making out, it wouldn’t take him long to get you off. If you were quick, maybe no one would notice…

Johnny must’ve been having similar thoughts because, as he kissed down the side of your neck, sucking on the soft skin hard enough to leave a trail of hickeys in his wake, his fingers circled your wrist and tugged your hand away from where it had been planted on his firm chest.

He brought your palm to the thick bulge in the front of his dress pants, and you sucked in a gasp of sheer desire. He was hot and so hard, and you knew instantly how good he would feel inside you. He’d stretch your tight hole so exquisitely, fill up your warm heat so perfectly.

Even more arousal pooled low in your belly, wetness dripping from your slit and making a mess of your thighs—because, of course, you hadn’t worn panties. It was Valentine’s Day, and you’d expected Johnny to try to sweet talk you into some kind of trouble, and you’d figured panties would just get in the way.

But you still weren’t sure taking things further in the booth of a nightclub was such a good idea.

Johnny seemingly sensed your hesitation and abandoned his endeavor to leave your neck covered in hickeys. He dragged the scruff on his jaw up your neck and over your cheek, nuzzling you in a mesmerizing rhythm as he spoke in your ear.

“C’mon, firelight, ‘m so fucking hard for you.” Johnny’s voice was low and deep and so entreating, it made your core pulse with your body’s own answering need. “My cock’s throbbing for you, baby, can you feel it?”

God help you, but you could feel it. You could feel the way Johnny’s hard length was twitching. You could even feel the wet spot on the crotch of his black slacks where his precum had leaked through.

Without even having to ask, you knew Johnny hadn’t worn his usual boxer briefs, and you had to bite back a smile. You hadn’t been dating that long—less than a year—but the two of you seemed to make a good pair.

A good pair with wildly depraved desires that were bound to get you into trouble one day, but a good pair nonetheless.

Still, you’d never fucked in public before. Part of you was worried about whether you could actually get away with it, like Johnny said, while another, increasingly larger part of you was desperately horny and needy for your boyfriend’s cock.

Would it be so bad? People fucked in public all the time, especially in New York City, didn’t they?

“If we get caught…” you began to say without really knowing where you were going. But it didn’t matter, because Johnny was quick to pick up on the fact that you were being swayed to his side.

“We won’t,” he promised vehemently, his voice steady and sure in that way only Johnny could manage. “I promise, firelight, we won’t get caught, I’ll make sure of it.”

Johnny’s hand was so warm, almost scorching, as he pressed down on the back of yours, curling your fingers around his thick length through the crotch of his pants. He felt so big and hard, and you couldn’t help the way your pussy pulsed with the desire to have him buried to the hilt in your tight heat.

You were just about to give in, to admit you’d let Johnny Storm sweet talk you into yet another bit of trouble, but your boyfriend kept talking. Sometimes he didn’t know when to stop talking.

“But even if we do, I bet whoever caught us wouldn’t mind,” Johnny murmured in your ear, his voice picking up speed as he used your fingers to slowly stroke his cock through his pants. “How could they when they’d get to see your pretty pussy stretched around my fat cock.”

A vicious shiver skated down your spine, arousal flooding your body and making you tremble against Johnny’s chest. Your fingers twisted in the soft cotton of his button-up shirt while you pressed your thighs together against the ache his words had inspired. And all the while, you let him use your other hand like a toy, stroking his length.

“They should be so lucky, to get to see you creaming all over my dick,” Johnny was saying, still painting a filthy picture of getting caught fucking in the club. But he cut off suddenly with a curse. “Fuck, I need it, I need your cunt, baby.”

At that point, you knew you were going to give in, you wanted it too badly not to. But the furious pleading in Johnny’s voice was so delicious, you couldn’t help but try to coax a little bit more out it of him before you relented.

“But Johnny, we can’t,” you mewled pathetically, putting so much emphasis on your last word, you were certain he’d know what you were doing.

Sure enough, when your boyfriend caught your eye, there was a spark of knowing in the dark blue depths. An arrogant smirk curled his soft mouth and he leaned in again until his scruff rasped against your cheek. He chuckled at the way your shoulders trembled in response.

“Yes, we can,” he said, his voice smooth and seductive. “No one’s going to see us, I promise,” he went on, unerringly charming as he shifted his hand from the back of yours to slip between your thighs. “They’re all too focused on themselves to notice us fucking in a dark corner.”

You hummed noncommittally, feigning hesitation even as you continued stroking Johnny’s cock through his pants. When he huffed a sound of mild frustration, you had to bite back a delighted smirk.

“I need to feel you so bad, firelight,” Johnny whined, that furious desperation seeping back into his tone. “I can’t wait to get you home, or even to the bathroom.”

His fingers dug deep into the soft flesh of your thigh, hard enough that you knew he’d leave bruises. But you didn’t care, not when it felt so good when he got possessive and greedy like this.

You squeezed his cock in encouragement, urging him silently to go on; he kept talking, words spilling from his mouth like he couldn’t control them.

“Just sit on it, baby, sit on my cock. No one will notice, no one will catch us, I promise. We won’t even fuck, just keep my cock warm, just to take the edge off. Come on, I know you want it—just sit on my cock, firelight, please.”

You knew there was at least one lie in Johnny’s words. You knew that if you sat on Johnny’s cock, you’d end up fucking. It didn’t matter if you were in a club where anyone would see, once he was inside you, there was no way either of you could control yourselves.

But that was okay because he was telling the truth about the most important part—you did want it. You wanted it so fucking bad. All sense and reason had fled in the face of your overwhelming desire for Johnny Storm.

“Well, since you said ‘please’,” you murmured, a smirk curling the corners of your mouth as you stole a quick kiss from Johnny.

He looked a little stunned when you pulled away, like he was surprised by his luck, but then his expression melted into an affectionate grin and you knew, beyond any doubt—and even if you did get caught—you’d never be able to regret what you were about to do.

Glancing around quickly, you made sure no one was looking in your general direction. Even if they were, they wouldn’t be able to see much with the way you and Johnny were hidden in the dark corner booth, the haze of weed smoke and the shadows of the dim club obscuring you from view.

As inconspicuously as possible, you shifted onto your feet and stepped between Johnny’s spread thighs, turning your back to him and leaning slightly over your table. Curling your fingers in the skirt of your dress, you pulled up the back, baring your ass to your boyfriend’s hungry gaze.

You could feel the heat of his stare and you pressed your thighs together in an attempt to ease the ache in your core. It seemed like an eternity that you held yourself in that position—or, at least, long enough for your thighs to begin to tremble with the effort.

Thankfully, Johnny’s warm hand slid around your hip and he guided you down, having freed his cock while you’d been getting into position. You bit your lip against a gasp when you felt the broad tip of his cock press between your folds, but you didn’t stop there.

As slowly as you could manage, you sat down on Johnny’s cock, sheathing his thick length in your dripping pussy in one smooth move. It felt so fucking good, you had to cover your face with your hands and moan helplessly into them, the sound of Johnny’s groan drifting past your ears.

Thankfully, the loud music in the club swallowed up the sounds of both your pleasure. And when you changed a glance through your fingers, no one was paying you and Johnny any mind.

Once you were seated, Johnny curled himself around your back, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he drew you deeper into the booth with him. Your thighs were still pressed tight together, one of your hands clinging to the front of your dress to make sure it kept you covered.

“Relax, firelight,” Johnny urged, his tone dripping with soothing charm. His hands kneaded your plush hips and supple thighs, coaxing your body into letting go of the tension it was holding. “There ya go, baby, relax for me.”

A soft moan slipped from your lips and your head fell back against Johnny’s shoulder, your limbs loosening and your body resting deeper into the cradle of his arms. It felt so good, being connected to him on such an intimate level, his cock filling you so perfectly.

The fact that you were in public, where anyone could see you, added a deliciously depraved headiness to it. One you let yourself enjoy, all fears and worries about getting caught flitting away into the murky gloom of the club.

“Atta girl, firelight, you’re taking my cock so fucking well,” Johnny went on, his voice low and enthralling, adding to the haze of pleasure settling over your mind and body. “Being such a good slut for me, sitting pretty in my lap and keeping my cock nice and warm—you’re such a good toy, aren’t ya, baby?”

“Johnny, don’t tease me,” you whined, your fingers finding his and hefting his arm up over your shoulder. The move allowed you to bury your face in his bicep, hiding the dirty and debauched things his words were doing to your body.

Johnny chuckled, settling his chin on your other shoulder and brushing a kiss to your cheek, making sure his scruff rasped against your skin.

“I’m not teasing you,” he murmured in a sweeter voice. “You feel so fucking good on my cock, so tight and warm and wet—and all for me.”

Warily, you pulled your face from your boyfriend’s bicep and turned to look at him, catching his eye as he leaned over your shoulder.

Once he saw you were looking, his mouth curved into a devil-may-care smirk, and you knew whatever he was about to say was going to make you even wetter than you already were.

“And you are a slut, baby,” Johnny said, his voice even darker and more shameless as he went on, spilling filth in your ear without even pausing to take a breath. “Only a slut would sit on my cock because you were horny, only a slut would let me cockwarm this sweet pussy in public like this—only a slut would get off on the possibility of being caught with my cock buried balls deep in your greedy cunt.”

Johnny’s hands squeezed your hips, rocking you hard on his stiff length while he was grinding up into you. The head of his cock brushed against somewhere deep inside of you, and you felt your pussy clench and gush with even more wetness, your shoulders trembling as you moaned shamelessly into the dark of the club.

“Oh god, Johnny, I’m—please, I need…” you trailed off. You didn’t know what you needed exactly, whether it was for him to keep doing what he was doing or to bend you over the table and fuck you right there in the club. You just knew Johnny was the only one who could give it to you.

A heartbeat later, a gentle weight settled over your lap and you looked down, finding Johnny had laid his suit jacket across your legs. It was big enough that it hid your lap entirely from view, in case anyone happened to peer through the gloom at what you and your boyfriend were doing.

Before you could thank Johnny for the sweet gesture, he was slipping one of his hands beneath the jacket, wasting no time curling his fingers under the hem of your skirt and finding your clit.

The first brush of his fingertip to your tight bundle of nerves felt like he’d set off a mountain fireworks beneath your skin, pleasure bursting and zipping through your limbs.

Your body tried to curl in on itself, every bit of you trembling while pitiful whimpers spilled endlessly from your lips.

But Johnny chased after you, wrapping his other hand firmly around the front of your throat. He pinned your back to his chest while he bounced you on his cock and rubbed your clit.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, firelight, you’re gonna cum on my cock right here in this club,” Johnny growled in your ear, so much conviction in his tone that it was just as intoxicating as the pleasure coursing through your body. “Then I’m gonna drain my balls in your pretty cunt and keep you on my lap, my cock plugging you full of my cum while we finish our drinks. Got it?”

“Yeah-huh,” you mumbled, your head lolling to the side until you were pressed temple-to-temple with your boyfriend.

His skin was damp with sweat, just like yours, and the scent of his cologne mixed with the sweet tang of cherries and whiskey on his breath.

You wanted to kiss him, but all you could do was sit on his cock and take it, moaning loud enough, you were certain he could hear even over the roaring, pounding music.

Johnny’s fingers dug into the sides of your throat, adding a delicious sting of pain but not cutting off your sounds of pleasure. A moment later, you understood why.

“Yeah, baby, let me hear how good ‘m making you feel, wanna hear you moaning while I choke you and bounce you on my cock like a gorgeous fuckdoll,” Johnny said, barely pausing to take a breath, like he couldn’t stop the torrent of filthy talk even if he’d tried. “You’re my perfect cock drunk slut, aren’t you, baby, just a pretty fucktoy who loves being used anywhere and everywhere to pleasure my cock, huh?”

“Yuh huh, yuh huh, yuh huh,” you babbled, in between desperate, whining sounds of pleasure. “Your toy, Johnny, all yours.”

“That’s my girl, such a good slut—my perfect, pretty fucktoy,” Johnny cooed in your ear, his fingers digging into the sides of your neck and choking you harder. Between your thighs, he rubbed your clit faster, his pace merciless. “Now be a good girl and cum on my cock, firelight—come on, I need to feel your cunt milking my cock, baby.”

Johnny’s commanding words, his thick cock and his ruthless hands all conspired against you, and you stood little chance against the deluge of pleasure he was giving you. It was all you could do to cling to him, your nails digging deep into his forearms as your release crashed over you.

Not a second too soon, Johnny’s hand slapped over your mouth and you screamed your pleasure, your mind going completely blank with bliss as wave after wave of your release flooded through your body. You tensed and shuddered in your boyfriend’s lap, your pussy gripping his cock so tight, it was like you were begging for his cum.

Johnny buried his face in your shoulder and shifted his hand from between your legs, gripping the crease of your thigh and rutting into you as he chased his release. A moment later, he found it, grunting his pleasure and pressing his gritted teeth into your sweat-slick skin to muffle his loud groans.

It seemed to go on forever, the twitching and throbbing of Johnny’s cock in your cunt, spilling his seed deep inside you while you rode out the aftershocks of your own release.

Finally, when you were both spent, you and Johnny collapsed back into the booth, your body sprawled on top of your boyfriend’s, both your chests heaving as you caught your breath.

When you were recovered enough, you twisted your shoulders and grabbed Johnny’s face in both hands, pulling him in for the filthiest kiss of the night. It was all hot breath and vicious teeth, your pussy still pulsing around his cock, and his cum still leaking into your tight heat.

“You’re an impossible menace,” you declared when you finally pulled away, the severity of your words dampened by the undeniable affection in your tone.

Johnny tipped his head back and laughed, the sound boisterous and entirely unrepentant. But when he sobered and looked back at you, there was something deeper than affection in his sparkling blue eyes.

“Yeah, but I’m your menace, firelight,” Johnny said. His tone was much more serious all of a sudden, and it made your heart jump and take off in a gallop in your chest.

Belatedly, Johnny seemed to realize he’d taken a turn in a certain direction, and he looked around as if searching for a way to get the two of you back to your typical flirty and fun conversations. Reaching past you, he grabbed your drink off the table and handed it to you before picking up his own.

“And you love it,” he quipped blithely, clinking his glass against yours then lifting it to his mouth.

You watched Johnny drink, his adam’s apple bobbing and wondered if you should let him get away with turning the suddenly serious conversation back to something light.

“I do,” you murmured, sipping your drink and glancing out at the strobing red lights and the endless sea of disco balls, casting crimson sparkles all across the clubgoers dancing below. You chewed idly on a maraschino cherry, the sweet liquor of your drink clinging to your tongue as thoughts swirled in your head.

It was Valentine’s Day. It was a holiday all about love, why shouldn’t you tell your boyfriend how you truly felt about him?

Impulsively, you turned back to Johnny, catching his eye and making sure you had his attention before you spoke.

For a second, your breath caught in your throat and you were scared you wouldn’t be able to say it—which made you sad, because you wanted him to know. And that thought gave you all the courage you needed to just say it.

“I love you, Johnny Storm.”

It was the first time either of you had said those words to each other, and for one terrifying moment, you worried about how he’d respond. Would he’d laugh it off as too much drinking and fucking, or would he take you seriously?

Johnny’s features went slack with surprise, but only for a second. In the next, his mouth was stretching across his handsome face into a wildly happy grin. Love shone in his eyes, and, though you couldn’t be sure, you thought you saw a glimmer of tears before he blinked them away.

“It’s about time, baby—what’s not to love about me?” he teased, pulling you in for a deep kiss, his scruff rasping against your cheeks and his tongue slipping into your mouth. He kissed you slow and sweet, showing you depth of his feelings.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours and said the words you wanted to hear. They weren’t more jokes or teasing, or more sweet talk. They were the truth.

“I love you, too, firelight.”

Your heart soared and you couldn’t help the beaming smile that spread across your face so wide, it nearly hurt your cheeks. For a moment, you basked in Johnny’s confession, and then you kissed him. You kissed him until you were breathless. And then you kissed him some more.

Eventually, the two of you finished your drinks—in between many, many more kisses—while reveling in the feeling of Johnny’s cock still buried in your pussy, his cum dripping from your slit. It wasn’t until it came time to leave that you realized just how much of a mess you’d made of his pants.

Like the dutiful girlfriend you were, you walked in front of Johnny the entire way out of the club, his jacket around your shoulders and his hands holding your hips possessively.

To anyone you passed, he just looked like a guy obsessed with his girlfriend—which, of course, he was.

Once you made it back to his apartment overlooking the Manhattan skyline, Johnny proved all over again just how much of a sweet-talking menace he could be, eating his cum from your pussy before fucking another load into you.

Then he fucked it even deeper, crooning in your ear about how much he loved you and your slutty cunt—and your big, throbbing heart.

By the time the both of you were sated, and had said ‘I love you’ a genuinely sickening amount of times, the sky was beginning to lighten on the morning of February 15, the day after Valentine’s Day.

But you didn’t care what day it was, you were just happy to fall asleep in the arms of the man you loved, the one who could sweet talk you into anything—Johnny Storm.

sweethearts game masterlist

#johnny storm #johnny storm fanfiction #johnny storm smut #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm fan art #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #witchywithwhiskey's sweethearts #witchywithwhiskeywork #writing-for-marvel #established relationship #valentine's day

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bones4thecats · 11 days ago

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↳ Love in the Shadows of Parenthood III.

A Twisted Wonderland × Youth-Parent! Reader.

Chapters: Heartslabyul. Savanaclaw. Octavinelle (here). Scarabia. Pomefiore. Ignihyde. Diasomnia.

Characters Included: Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, and Floyd Leech.

Prompt: "What if their S/O had a child before being with them?"

Possible Trigger Warnings: Teenage pregnancy (all), Toxic relationships, parental rights fighting, hinted abusive relationship (Azul), Hinted toxic relationship (Jade), Hinted toxic parenting, and relationship + parental abandonment (Floyd).

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🐙 Azul has seen teenage parents many times, since it was more likely for the mer-folk to become parents earlier than other species. So, when you held the young girl behind you and glared at the boys around stoically, he could see signs you were this girl's mother. 🐙 He felt the wish to make a deal with you when you first arrived, but he knew from experience with his own mother that being single with a child is hard. To make up for the 'lost customer', Azul merely assisted you. He planned on using it against you when older and you could let your daughter be more free.

🐙 It shocked him when he realized he liked you, finding it odd that he felt this for someone. But, after getting together, he began to really understand it when his mother said it's hard handling managing and parenthood. He only had her half the time! How was this child so difficult?! 🐙 Pearl, your daughter, was perfect around you, yet hard with Azul. He wondered why this was. So, when she was being looked after by Professor Trein so you and Azul could be out, he asked you what was up.

"She's difficult with me more often, especially after she called me 'Dada' a couple weeks ago." He said. "Why is that?"

You took a deep breath, hands clenching and relaxing repeatedly as you got flashes of everything from the past. From your first day knowing you were pregnant to the man you allowed this to happen with.

"Her biological father didn't exactly set the best image up for her..." You spoke, rubbing your arm with your main hand. Nerves were bunching up as you walked alongside your boyfriend.

Cocking an eyebrow, Azul hummed. A non-worded way to allow you to either continue explaining or stop, something he only used with you.

"Pearl's father wasn't great. He had issues with his emotions mainly. He'd get upset from the most minor things; from a cup being slightly off from its place to Pearl's outfit being slightly wrinkly. It was... hard to let her grow up with him around.

"I filed a restraining order and gained full custody of her. Haven't seen him since, but I know that he's made a stamp on her view of a father figure; angry."

Azul's eyes shifted to yours. They were shadowed, and it upset him.

Gripping your hand softly, he ran his fingers against your knuckles in wordless comfort. "But you..." You added. "You are just what she needs. I love you, 'Zulie."

"...I love you too, Pebble."

🍄 Jade's family has been around single parents many times. From business deals to members inside of the organization they ran, the calmer twin had seen many single parents. Though, they wouldn't consider it to not be a slight shock. 🍄 So, when you came to Twisted Wonderland with a young boy behind you, he suspected you to his parent. He could see similarities in physical features that allowed him to suspect the possibility; specifically hair and eye colors. 🍄 Unlike what many would believe, your son, Calder, found interest in the eel-mer before you did. He would watch the older male from your arms and wave anytime he'd catch his eyes. Whenever the man came near you, you'd be courteous while Calder would shamelessly eye him and speak whatever came to his mind. 🍄 Such bluntness was entertaining for Jade to watch. And when you got together, he would effortlessly use his new 'step-son' to get some unsuspecting victim involved in a deal. His boy repeated what the older one said, wishing to be just like him. 🍄 You were happy he was admiring someone other than you. Thankful it was Jade and not someone like Floyd, because of his or your ex, who was known in your world for his effortless dishonesty. Jade may be slippery underneath his pristine skin, but he was honest.

It was months since you and Jade started dating, and your son's fourth birthday just so happened to fall during Night Raven College's spring break. So, he had brought you and Calder with him to visit his parents.

After taking the potions to become mer-folk for a weeks-time, you and your son happily swam around. He and you were clown-fish, your orange and white stripes reflecting against Jade and Floyd's darker-shaded blues.

Jade smiled and chuckled as Floyd and Calder swam in a race ahead, his eyes sparkling in a way you loved. In a way you always wanted to see in the man you loved.

"Jade." You called, catching the male's attention.

"Yes, love?"

"Thank you for bringing Calder and I here. I've never seen him to genuinely happy around another being... well, other than me."

He nodded, lightly swinging his long tail to graze yours. A teasing smile emerged on his face as did so.

Feeling a blast of water hitting him, Jade looked up with a serious expression. It softened when he saw his twin and the new mer-boy laughing and sicking their tongues out at him in a joking manner.

Hearing you giggle from his side, you swam faster, chasing your son as Jade began to follow, though he went after his brother.

Grabbing his twin from behind, Jade began to noogie him. You merely blew raspberries on your son's stomach, allowing a loud, innocent laugh to fill the ocean around you four. Jade smiled and let his brother go, this is something he never imagined himself having. And now that he has it; he doesn't ever want to let it go.

🎭 Cove, your son, was always attracted to the energetic people in your life. You were his anchor, the only person who could calm him down when his energy was practically Saturn-high. 🎭 When you both arrived in Twisted Wonderland, he grew to love many members; though he became very close to Floyd. The eel-mer also liked the young boy, seeing him as one of the most enjoyable people in the school. And when he first saw you, he was practically seeing you and him raising the young boy. 🎭 It was after your relationship started that Floyd became extremely clingy to you and Cove, always having an eye on you and a hand on either his head or around your waist. He needed to know you both were there, call it unnecessary, he believes it to be needed. 🎭 Floyd and Cove have a very close bond, the one thing your parents claimed would never happen after your ex, and Cove's father, left you both. 🎭 While their words laid deep within your mind years later, Floyd managed to keep them at bay with his smile and insane-sounding laugh. It just felt perfect hearing him laugh with your son and run around with him on his shoulders, Azul yelling at him from behind about slacking off his shift again. 🎭 Maybe he wasn't perfect, but to you he was.

Floyd's laugh rung in your ears as you sat in the doctor's room, a book in your hands as you waited. He sat with Cove on his leg, telling a story of when he was young and he, alongside Azul and Jade, went treasure hunting alone.

"I've never seen Azul let out so much ink in his life! It was so funny!" He laughed alongside your son.

While many feared his teeth, Cove found them to be very cool. He would constantly ask him if he would hunt with them or his tremendous strength, only be answered with a swift and scarily calm; "Depends... who am I hunting?"

"What did you do with the barracuda?" Cove asked, hands cupping his cheeks in wonder.

Floyd's eyes narrowed in thought. "Last I remember, we threw random stones at it and fled. Don't know if it died or is still roaming around, awaiting or return.

"Don't really care either!"

Cove's eyes were sparkling by now, questions falling from his lips faster than the twin could answer. It was at that time the doctor walked in with a needle in between his fingers. He rolled up the short-sleeve of your son's and readied to give him his flu shot.

Normally, your son would flee; Run for his life as if the medical professional was injecting liquid death in his veins, but this time he stayed. He sat on Floyd's lap and ignored everything around him, even your stifled laughs.

"Thank you, Doctor Liefson." You whispered as he nodded and handed you the card with when Cove would need his next shot.

"You ready for some ice cream?" You asked the boys, who jumped up and began cheering as they ran through the halls towards the car.

Dorks. You giggled.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Octavinelle #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST x Reader #Octavinelle x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Jade Leech #Jade Leech x Reader #Floyd Leech #Floyd Leech x Reader #S/O! Reader #F! Reader #Human! Reader #Teen Parent! Reader

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cursedcola · 7 months ago

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Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia (Here) | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: I'm part of the 'everyone underestimates Kalim Al Asim , the layers of his character and upbringing' club. Sweet does not equal being a dum dum my dudes.

Habits You Steal:

Theatrics (Inherited): Kalim talks with more than his mouth. There's body language. Watch out when this guy gets excited because he might knock over a lamp amidst a rant. Hands are flying with each embellishment. He's pacing. Jumping. Energy is seemingly endless with this one. When Kalim laughs, he does so with his entire body without reservation. Head flying back, grin wide, shoulder shaking, etc. Not that he can't replace what gets broken but - y'know. Be careful else you might get bitch slapped on accident. Which normally wouldn't hurt too much but Kalim's decked out in gold. The last thing you want is a ring imprint on your left cheek because Kalim got too excited after a card game. On that note - someone get Jamil some aspirin because that excitement is infectious. You can be the most stone-hearted edge-lord on the face of Twisted Wonderland, but eventually his infectious sunshine attitude takes hold.

"A-Ah! It's okay! We can replace the lamp, so don't worry. Are you hurt? No, no. It's really aright. I'm fine, see? You missed me - can I see your hands for a second? OIII! Can someone please bring a med-kit! Thank you!" <- Jamil's already grabbing the broom before you can say sorry. This is the last time he lets you sit anywhere near fragile objects during a game of charades - or any game. Kalim was bad enough...but at least with him fretting over the tiny cut on your palm, Jamil could clean the mess in peace. At least until you offer to pay for the lamp. Kalim's got enough tact to lie about the price, and everyone's thankful. No one wants to see the Ramshackle Prefect have a heart attack for shattering a real crystal lamp. 'cause then Kalim will cry too and it'll just be dominos from there.

Personal Space (Inherited): Kalim tears away any sense of dignity, self-preservation, and privacy that might exist. In a good way, of course. It's not that Kalim is an open person. Quite the contrary. He needs to keep a calculated distance between himself and others due to his position as an Asim. Regardless of his happy exterior, never forget that Kalim is far from an airhead. Kindness doesn't equate connection - as much as Kalim would love for everyone to be his friend. Yet for those who are in that trusted circle? He treats them like an extension of the self. His lack of shame bleeds into your own perception.

Training and Resistance (Inherited and Developed): Kalim hates that you need to do this. He rarely 'hates' anything, but he despises that you need to worry about being poisoned. What’s worse is that you refuse to have a tester, or a guard, or anything of the sort. It all started with discussing the future with Jamil, who logically brought up the complications that come with Kalim taking a partner. You couldn’t be shadowed, were in a difficult position with the headmaster, and it would only become difficult once the duo moves back to the scalding sands. Even more once you join them (as NRC is merely teaming with prideful youths, while the Scalding Sands is a free for all).

Point summary? You need to build resistance to drugs and learn what to do in a hostage situation. The former is handled by Professor Crewel, and the process was explained in excruciating detail. Jamil, who’s undergone training, was unphased but Kalim desperately wanted you to back out. Yet it would mean needing a guard - which would be hard to arrange - and so…yeah. Many weekends in the nurse’s office. You also have to complete the hostage drills all Asims and their spouses are put through. How to escape bondage, how to last an interrogation, how to navigate without magic (which you could, duh, so basically without a map when stranded), negotiate, etc.

"Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want to do? I can still hire a body guard - there are many options available back home! You can spend our next vacation at the main villa and meet with them. We can - oh. y-you're sure?... alright. If this is what you want then I'll be there through every step. Just remember to ask if you need anything. I'll come running, no matter what."

Charisma (Inherited): Everyone underestimates just how dangerous Kalim is. Seriously. Nothing is more risky in a school like Night Raven College than dropping your guard. It can cost you your life - or at the very least leave you indebted to someone you do not want having dirt over your head (*cough*ACertianCephalopod*cough*)The gossip grapevine is a menace. Everyone has their pride. Everyone has their secrets. Everyone holds each other at arm’s length, even if you’re cordial or friendly. Everyone except Kalim, who has this innate ability to pry the most dirty secrets out of you simply through his nonchalant attitude. Nothing drops another’s guard quicker than a sense of security and superiority. People often mistake his genuine heart for nativity. They fail to recognize that it’s a choice, and deep down he is aware that the Al Asim name places him high above the people he sees as friends.

"Hm? Isn't that the alchemic lab on potionomics meant for second years? You're so smart! I didn't get to do that lab until just a few months ago! - it's not yours? Then why are you working on it?" <- game. set. match. You think he doesn't know what your handwriting looks like? He saw you lingering outside Crewel's classroom earlier and wanted to know why. Saw an opening. Took it. Is happy you’re helping out one of your other friends, but just had to make sure no one was bullying you into doing their work.

Since he truly believes that despite this gap, friendships can transcend - his ability to get information is uncanny. A power he can wield intentionally if need be, in getting you to name drop any person or problem posed. It’s a great quality to have! This way he can help and support you :) Why is this an inherited trait, you might be asking? Because as the next head of Al Asim, Kalim’s been studying how to do business since he was young. He’s going to teach you. Pray tell what is born once the Ramshackle Beast Tamer learns the ways of Scarabia’s master of charisma and resident sunshine child?…Night Raven’s downfall. Power couple. Dead serious right now.

Jewelry (Developed): Worth your weight in gold takes a new meaning. This isn’t in reference to being spoiled, mind you. This is about status and the meaning behind the jewels Kalim is imparting. The cultural significance. Considering that you’re not from twisted wonderland, you technically are a blank slate to all countries. Who better to learn from than someone who’s spent his childhood studying to become an expert in international trade? Kalim has enough tact to bite his tongue about the deep meaning behind the gifts. You may not understand just yet, but his excitement can’t be contained. Each bangle and piece from the family treasury has a small story. While he has no problem using his wealth to help people who need it, there’s a joy that comes from decorating his treasure’ in treasure. Y’know?

"Do you like it? This necklace was my mother's at our age. My father gifted it to her during a business trip to the Queendom of Roses. Ah - you can have it! Really! She has many others, and when I told her about you this was what she chose to have sent over. It's already yours! You can wear it to the next banquet, please?" <- Being the next head of House Asim, Kalim can't be with just anyone. Yet he seemed so happy in his letters, and Jamil vouched on your behalf - so this is your time to shine. Also, sending the necklace back would be like slighting his family's good will. You quite literally need to accept it.

Music (Inherited): Can you play an instrument? Sing? It starts out as wanting to be near him more - so you join the pop music club. Kalim, Cater, and Lilia are very convincing. So they push you to pick up something. Anything. It doesn't matter what, so long as you have fun with them. Even in the earliest stages where the notes come grated and your friends (Grim) make fun - Kalim is supportive without fault. His encouragement leads to proficiency and an appreciation for music. He'd love if you sing with him. Even if it's just a lullaby - no, especially so.

Habits He Steals:

Naming inanimate objects (Inherited): Your effort at making Kalim more money-conscious. The decite of sentimental attachment, if you will. It’s honestly a risky move to make considering the sheer amount of things that he owns, so naming everything is off the table. Yet it’s the silly things. Like seeing a face in the paintwork on one of his tapestries, and then deciding to dub it Artie. Oh no, Kalim we don’t need to get new artwork for the bathroom! What about Artie? It’s already pretty enough so lets just leave him there. No - no, that ring’s super pretty but the matching set from our anniversary is enough. We wouldn’t want Garnet and Pearl to think we were replacing them, right?

"I think Vinnie would work best on display, don't you? Purple and yellow are sure to catch people's attention from far away! Or maybe should we hang up Paolo? There are so many tapestries in Scarabia’s vault, I feel guilty only putting one up on display at our festival stall. Do you think they’d let us hang more?”<- It works. Kalim defiantly thinks twice. He's a bit like a kid refusing to give up their action figures after watching Toy Story, ya feel me?

Cooking (Inherited): Kalim is learning how to cook for himself as one step to being more self-sufficient. He only eats food that Jamil prepares, but with Viper’s seal of approval you’ve earned a pass. Essentially anything you both make with pre-approved ingredients is fair game. You pick a recipe every week, give Jamil the grocery list, and he makes sure to have the stuff in the dorm. Jamil is only okay with this so long as you supervise. Teaching Kalim is on your shoulders - and in all honesty? It’s an amazing bonding experience. Jamil can rest easy for a few hours and Kalim isn’t being thrown straight into the deep end. Obviously it’s only a small reprieve, and temporary since back at the Scalding Sands there are regulations in place. Kalim loves wearing matching aprons, humming little tunes while reading recipe books, watching cooking videos, learning about all the nutritional benefits in food, and really gets an appreciation after seeing how much work goes into his favorite dishes. There’s also that spark of joy when you sit down to eat, and it’s somehow one-hundred times better than eating with his family back home. Not that Kailm doesn’t love his siblings, but family really takes a new meaning when you see it coming together right before your eyes.

"Mph th-ish is sho gud! - how do you like it? Should we invite our friends to try some? It tastes almost like Jamil's! I bet if we keep at it, then we can cook up a banquet all on our own. That'll surely put everyone in a good mood!"

Skinship (Developed): Kalim is the type to initiate touch. Not receive it. If you look at his interactions with the others, he’s always the one throwing himself at them or being a vibrant glow-stick. Very few people give that back - and in truth? Like, honest to Seven truth? Kalim’s got no problem with it. Many people have bad intentions. Not everyone wants to be his friend, and that’s fine. They come to him looking to get in his good graces. It’s unnecessary…he’ll happily help without them twisting his feelings. All they need to do is ask. Do you know how easy it is for someone to prick him with a drugged needle? He’s not comfortable with physical contact that he does not initiate, unless it’s from someone he trusts. Like Jamil, Silver, Cater, his siblings, etc. Even they have a limit (which he’s confident will never be crossed, since again, Kalim is almost always the initiator). This list is subject to change…what, you think a family of 30+ kids can exist without animosity? He dreads the day he has to think of one of his little siblings becoming untrustworthy.

Anyways. Trust is a choice for Kalim. His happiness and extroverted optimism is all a choice. Sometimes on an unconscious level (*cough* his awareness of the divide between himself and Jamil, yet pushing the knowledge down until it inevitably hurt them both *cough*). So imagine reaching the point where he trusts you. It could be something small, like the first time you hug him from behind or lace your fingers together. Intimate. Not like Cater’s half sling over the shoulder, not like his little siblings hanging on his legs, or Jamil pushing him ahead while they walk. When he’s not initiating, and Kalim might hesitate for a moment. Hard to picture, I know, but by letting it be he’s choosing to trust you wholeheartedly. All in the span of like 5 seconds, and he might not even realize it until later on. Those of us who shine the brightest, usually have walls that are hard to see. Just some food for thought.

"Really? Really, really?? Really, really really??? Really - Ah! Sorry, I just can't believe it! There's so much I still don't know about them...but they're paying attention to me, huh? That's it! I need to work harder to be a worthy boyfriend! Starting right now, I'll become a better man!" <- Kalim. Sweetie. No. You're already the brightest boy. Your dormmates only brought the prefect's changes up to make you happy! I mean - mission successful? The goal was to motivate him and they technically succeeded. Just not for studying. He's 100% fired up with enough energy to run laps around the dorm now. He doesn't know what to do first, should he get Cater to help make you a playlist? Or have some flowers sent over? Would you prefer red roses or a mix of violets with chrysanthemums. Wait. Grim's 'technically' a cat, right? He should make sure not to send anything harmful to kitties. Maybe some tuna for him with chocolates for you? But this gift should be something you can keep. Ohhhh he is vibrating from excitement. He needs to show how much he loves you. Your attention and care truly means the world to him.

Habits You Steal:

Bug Spray (Developed): Jamil can and will throw you under the bus when faced with insects. Big hit to his pride, not his best moments, but he is NOT dealing with the absolute infestation at Ramshackle. You are spraying that place with heavy duty RAID if you want him over longer than ten seconds. If he so much as catches a GLIMPSE of a roach - nah. Just nah. He will shove that dustpan in your hands and send you to war. Don’t call him until it’s dead, the carcass has been disposed of, and you’ve wiped down. Grim’s a cat. Teach his ass to hunt. He needs to pay rent. You think he’s letting the flame-ball follow to the Scalding Sands after NRC? Jamil wants him on hinting duty for scarabs or else it’s time to prep hobo box.

“Burn it….Did you not hear me? I said. Burn. It. Better yet? Burn this whole damn building!” <-First night he decides to let Kalim handle Scarabia and humor you with a sleepover - and a giant spider decided to invade the shower. We’re talking big spider, maybe pregnant. Please keep in mind that during the VDC prep, Vil had Ramshackle deep cleaned. So the worst Jamil saw was a few ants. Now, the science club does meet in the Ramshackle garden often since you’ve cleaned it up, and Trey may grow plants that make the place insect central. Jamil was unaware of this. The gut wrenching scream that echoed through every room in the house. You’d think one of the ghosts pulled a cruel prank - but no. You didn’t even get a moment to investigate. The bathroom door flew open, Jamil running out still wet and drenching his pajamas. The death glare and spew of curses was the most genuine you’d ever seen him. Well, it could have been appreciated if not directed at you. Fix it or he will never set foot in this place ever again.

Spice Tolerance (Inherited): Not much to say here. He likes his food spicy. Sure, Jamil isn’t great with his words so his main love-language is bringing over tubbaware filled with food, and he does cater to your preferences more often than not. Except you undoubtedly will be eating what himself and Kalim eat most days. Which is packed with flavor. Grim isn’t complaining, food’s food. You? It’s funny to take a chomp out of ghost pepper like it’s a roma tomato, only for Ace to try and then start wheezing. Work them tastebuds, ya scrawny magic man. Heh.

"Can't handle the heat? Curry's a versatile dish. I could make something mild next time...you still want it? Why? Just because it's my favorite, doesn't mean you have to like it. Still not going to give it back? Alright. Lets see you clean that plate then." <- Flattered that you want to experience his favorite foods prepared to his tastes. For the record - Jamil likes it spicy spicy. Hotter than fiery vindaloo. Its an acquired taste and he really can alter the recipe if its too much. Won't unless you ask, because it's funny and oddly romantic seeing you sweat just trying to make him happy (Will hit the breaks in if you are getting sick from it. Does not play around).

Braids (Inherited): Paired with Jamil’s developed trait. Braids or hair beads - take your pick. Maybe both? Or a headscarf. His little sister - Najima, do you remember her? She’s the first Viper you get to spend time with during a trip to the Scalding Sands and gifts you either some hair beads or a headscarf as her unspoken blessing. Nothing fancy, and Jamil forced the coin in her hand for it, but she did take you through the markets while he was busy tending to other needs. It’s honestly really sweet, and Jamil will braid the beads or scarf in one of your side pieces of hair every morning (or wrap the scarf around your head. Not fancy like Kalim’s but still a knot he ‘insists’ will look better if he does it since you’re inexperienced. He could teach you. He won’t.)

Silence (Inherited): Shit just does not phase you anymore. Ever heard of the inability to keep calm until there's someone more panicked nearby? Jamil embodies this, being surrounded by emotive people all the time, and his perpetual state of indifference physically does not allow you to feel unsettled. If Jamil isn't bothered, then neither are you. It's that simple. Resting bitch face is contagious. Jamil's ability to handle Kalim comes in handy for raising Grim. You can now ignore his baby face and daily begging for premium tuna. Little kitty needs to expand his arsenal of tricks, because your will is stone.

"Bad day? Grab a cup. The dorm's usually quiet for the next hour. I'll be there in a moment." <- Queen never cry. If anything actually does phase either one of you, it normally ends the same way. Plopped on the floor of his bedroom, sipping hot tea and staring at the wall in comfortable silence while stewing in mutual suffering. Eventually you give him one of those starry sky projectors, and y'all ill stare at that instead. If it's a problem that has a tangible solution then it gets solved. Easy. This is for the 'yeah, life sucks' moments where all you can do is let it be before getting back up again. At least you have each other.

Habits He Steals:

Braids (Developed): Jamil can easily do his own hair. A flick of the wrist and it magically braids itself. Ebony locks carry memories of pain, growth - and change. Small change. Yet change nonetheless, which seemed impossible years ago. There’s something very intimate that comes with fixing another person’s hair. You’re not proficient enough to handle his cornrows (or are you? To his standard? As fast as magic?) but Jamil’s fine with changing his hair style to a simple triple braid, or a braid-band using the framing pieces that can crown around his head. So long as you do it for him every morning.

Fix-It-Felix (Developed): You know that one type of dad? The one who visits your home and looks for imperfections. He comes over, puts fresh produce in the fridge, mends the nail holes in the wall and fixes that one loose board on the steps that you made a habit to avoid. Barely says two words during his visit but seemingly solves half the problems you were procrastinating? This is Jamil. 100% Jamil when he comes to Ramshackle. He needs to make himself useful. And to scold someone. Grim more often than not, but you’re not safe. He really goes ‘bitch you live like this?’ at least once a week. Then proceeds to take preventative measures like a textbook tsundere.

“I put tangerines in the fridge since winter is coming. You need to be getting enough vitamin c and - where’s Grim? Don’t let him eat them all and make sure he knows not to light the fireplace tonight. There’s some cleaner on the bricks that needs to sit for a few hours…you know what? I’ll go with you to get him. Grab your heavy coat, it looks ready to rain.”

Dancing (Developed): Jamil participates in solo-dance during his downtime. It’s not like he had a partner to do duos with. Jamil also was not interesting in cozying up to a stranger just to learn a dance he would rarely have a moment to indulge in. Kalim’s the one who mentioned this in passing to you. His intentions were pure, of course. Just as they always are. He signed you both up for a ballroom dance class as a present for officially becoming a couple! Jamil finally had a partner and time to try, so why wait?! The vice in question wanted to deny since (1) who has time for that, (2) it was off campus, would take three hours out of every weekend for a month and (3) The chance of embarrassing himself was higher than he would like. Yet Kalim is smarter than most think, and purposefully handed the gift to you. Not Jamil. Along with the excited embellishment that Jamil could now do this ‘long desired’ class that really wasn’t high on his radar.

"If it makes you happy...then I don't mind. Just try to avoid stepping on my toes. Otherwise I'll demand compensation. What do I want? Wouldn't you like to know, prefect." <- Five seconds in and he yields. You weren't going to let him out of it - no matter what excuse Jamil came up with. He'll put up with it and get back at Kalim later. The chance to spend time with you for that long is rare, and Jamil isn't the type to squander opportunities. No matter his personal feelings on the 'gift' in question.

Except Jamil finds the entire experience pleasant and hates that it’s all thanks to Kalim. Dancing with you is entirely different than dancing alone. It’s clumsy, new, and honestly tiring since he needs to lead. Especially in anything fast pace like a quickstep or to swing. It’s also three hours out of the week that Jamil isn’t maintaining his composure. Just you, him, and the instructor since Kalim splurged on private lessons. It’s liberating and Jamil wants to keep with it far beyond after the class ends. Even if it’s just slow-dancing in the common room to one of those vintage records stowed at Ramshackle. Seven, let him have this.

‘We’ instead of ‘Me’ (Inherited AND Developed): Automatically assumes that any invites are for you too. Jamil is used to thinking this way. Except the ‘we’ applied to Kalim, with Jamil as a plus one. Jamil did not want to be part of that ‘we’. Hence why he would only refer to Kalim when laying plans out. ‘Kalim has dance lessons at six, then dinner at seven, then study until 10 and then bed. Tomorrow, Kalim’s going to a banquet head by the treasure’s family and then returning to campus.’ The unspoken truth being that Jamil’s schedule matched. He followed, but was never on board with being Kalim’s ‘we’. He has always been a ‘me’ and made an active effort to preserve all his ‘me’ moments. For someone so self-aware…Jamil isn’t sure when he began to view you as his ‘we’. Only that when you auto-included him in everything…it was less strenuous than with Kalim. Far less. Easy to adapt. In the past, Jamil believed a partnership to be another chain. Perhaps being a ‘we’ was never supposed to hurt.

“Thanks for the invitation, but we’re staying in tonight…. No, not Kalim. The Prefect. What? I’m not speaking for them. If my word’s not good enough, just go ask the prefect yourself.” <- Other people might look at him and think he’s treating you like Kalim. Oh, how wrong they are.

Texting (Inherited): Jamil’s not used to someone keeping tabs on him. You’re going to see him within the hour, why does he need to call before going to wake up Kalim? Why do you need a text that he’s back in his dorm before you’re able to sleep? Why do you show up in Scarabia at one in the morning, throwing rocks at his window, if he forgets? (Jamil never forgets. He just had to reign in some rowdy first years and couldn’t catch a break. It was on his mind. Really.) It’s not the worst demand. A five minute call while he’s prepping breakfast and a few messages to know he’s going to rest are a small price to pay. Turns out a little rundown of his day before bed makes sleeping a ‘little’ bit easier. Huh.

“I don’t see it.” <- A lie spoken with the most monotone tone possible. Jamil rolls his eyes over the rim of his mug, taking a sip before turning the page in his book. Najima scoffs before returning to her magazine. She can say he’s softened up all she wants. He won’t admit to it. Doesn’t mean she’s wrong in the slightest. Jamil’s well aware that hopes and wants denied to him from birth have begun to stir within him. No matter how small the changes may be, Jamil isn’t foolish enough to give those emotions his attention. Not if he wants to keep them. Good things always escape his grasp…his wounds are too fresh to get comfortable just yet.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #jamil viper #twst kalim al' asim #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #twst habits series #not me forgetting to put tags here. post has been up a whole day with no tags. i am a certified dummy

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