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cressidagrey · 24 hours ago

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Such A Mystery - Part 7

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Happy New Year! Chapter count is continuing to go up, because I need to halve this chapter after hitting 6k. Should be 10 parts. Hopefully.

Arthur did eventually show up with enough McDonald’s in tow to feed an army.

Fries, Nuggets and even including apology milkshakes.

“I am really sorry,” her little brother apologised to her, looking distraught.

Colette exhaled slowly, trying her hardest not to laugh at the sheepish look on Arthur's face.

"The next time, maybe you should think before you post. But then I clearly didn’t do that either,” she said drily.

“I mean, karma is the guy in the car coming straight home to me, did amuse me very much,” Vic said brightly.

Arthur blushed deeply, and ducked his head in embarrassment. He set down the bags of takeout on the counter, and then looked up to her to apologize again, his eyes wide like a puppy begging for forgiveness.

"Come here," Colette said with a sigh, holding out her arms for him. "I love you, ma petite puce."

"Colette!" Arthur complained with a grimace, but she just grinned.

"Oh you'll always be my little flea," she teased her younger brother.

"Oh god, don't call me that," Arthur complained, letting her pull him into a tight hug. He let out a long suffering sigh. "I said I was sorry!"

"I know you are," she said, patting the top of his brown hair, even when that meant that she needed to stand on her tiptoes to reach. "But the fact remains that you were an idiot before."

Arthur groaned in embarrassment and dropped his head to her shoulder in defeat.

"Eat your fries," his voice was muffled. "And please tell me you have some salad or something in the fridge so Max doesn't kill me for feeding you nothing but junk food."

"I do have some salad in the fridge," Colette said and ruffled his hair. "I'll eat lots of veggies, I promise. And I’ll even tell Maxie that I blackmailed you into getting me fries, if you want,” she suggested brightly.

Vic just snorted. "Let's just get that back in the living room and we can put on Sky News and bitch about the commentators."

"You guys are awful," Arthur protested, but he was already gathering their food and following along obediently. "The comments on Sky Sports are not nearly as bad as you make them out to be..."

Colette rolled her eyes and instead collapsed onto the couch, wriggling to get comfortable, because her back was still killing her.

Arthur was also very wrong. Danica Patricks definitively was that bad. Colette could just stare at the train wreck in front of her.

"Vic. Why in the world has Sky Jos on there to talk about Maxie's anger issues. What anger issues?" she demanded. Max didn’t have anger issues. Who in the world had come up with that? This was utterly ridiculous!

Victoria stared at her. "You don't know?!" she asked, sounding shocked.

"Know what?" Colette demanded. "Enzo deleted every social media app in existence from my phone. Why do people think that Max of all people has anger issues?!"

"George Russell," Arthur mumbled. "He said some...things."

Things. George Russell had said some things.

Colette sat up a little straight at that, her eyes widening in disbelief. "What things?" she demanded. "What did he say?"

Victoria and Arthur exchange a look.

"He may have said that he wouldn't want Max to date his sister because he is sure that his girlfriend is the one dealing with his anger issues?" Arthur offered.

"He. Said. What?" Colette bit out.

No wonder there had been this tone in Max's voice when they had talked this morning...No wonder he had sounded upset, when that George fucking Russell had pretty much accused him of hurting her. And of course, he hadn't wanted to worry her, so of course, he hadn't told her.

Victoria reached out and grasped her elbow, as if she worried Colette would jump up and attack the screen.

"You need to stay calm," Vic said firmly. "You can't get worked up, it's not good for you, and it's not good for the baby," she warned her.

"I will murder George Russell," Colette growled in response.

"No murder," Victoria said in a no-nonsense voice. "You can't kill him, he's not worth it. And you can't have this stress, for your health. And the baby."

Colette huffed but she was still seething.

Only to then have Danica Patrick pipe up from the TV Screen: "What are your thoughts on your son’s supposed anger issues?"

"He doesn't have anger issues!" Colette snapped. "I have anger issues right now! I am going to find George Russell and punch him in the face!"

Arthur stared at her with an ill-hidden combination of horror and fascination.

Victoria laughed again, but it was mostly out of surprise and disbelief. "Well, at least we know that your temper is firmly intact," she said dryly.

"I'm sure Max is going to loooove seeing you this worked up over this," Arthur grumbled.

Colette had a lot of problems with Max's father, but at least for once she actually agreed with him:

"On the circuit…as soon as Max lowers his visor, he turns into a lion. He is really motivated and the only thing that matters is winning. It was always in him. What I see in Max now, I saw in karting," Jos answered Danica's question. "But that’s not the same Max you see when he is at home. On the race track, he is a lion, but at home, he’s a teddy bear. He got that from Sophie. He’s very sweet, very gentle…Incredible protective of the people he cares about."

For the first time in recent history, Colette found herself agreeing wholeheartedly with Jos Verstappen.

"He is a teddy bear," she mumbled in agreement. "The sweetest thing on earth. And that bastard has no idea what he's talking about," she bit out.

"Of course Max is a lion on the track," Arthur said with a scoff. "We've witnessed that ourselves. Everyone in the paddock knows that Max is a machine when he's in his race car, but George has his head up his ass if he thinks that Max is aggressive off the circuit."

"We all know that Maxie is the gentlest, most generous person out there," Victoria agreed, shaking her head. "George Russell is clearly jealous and is making stuff up just to get attention."

Colette just huffed.

"So you don't think he has anger issues?" Danica Patrick pushed.

"What kind of a stupid question is that?" Colette grumbled in response, her shoulders taut with anger.

Arthur laughed and Victoria squeezed her arm.

"No," Jos answered flatly.

Danica Patrick, who was clearly fishing for a different reply, seemed a little thrown by the firm response. But she rallied quickly enough to pivot: "And what can you tell us about your son’s relationship with Colette Leclerc?"

"Oh, come on!" Colette snapped.

"They have been together for a very long time," Jos replied simply, his accent strong as ever. "…since back in Karting. I don’t think anybody believed that that relationship would last, but they did prove everybody wrong."

The answer was unexpectedly charming and sincere.

Colette found herself blinking at that, surprised at how fond he sounded when talking about her and Max. Even Arthur was gaping stupidly, and it looked like Victoria was struggling not to choke on her drink from surprise.

"I think the great thing about Colette is that she understands his life, his career. She has a brother who does the same job as Max, so she was always incredibly supportive of him," Jos continued. "She is there for him. She supports him completely, and she’s been there for him through the good times and the bad. I don’t think Max would be the man he is today without her."

Arthur and Victoria stared at the screen with dropped jaws, stunned into silence.

"Is that Jos actually giving a heartfelt compliment?" Arthur muttered in disbelief.

“I think he is?” Victoria responded questioningly. This was certainly a new experience for everyone.

On the screen, Jos continued: "I have been watching their relationship for over half of Max's life, and Max really did pick the right girl."

"Your son hasn’t talked a lot about his relationship," Danica said leadingly.

"Oh, you won’t get anything from him," Jos said with a snort. "He’s very protective over her, always has been. Especially with her in her current condition."

Colette’s eyes widened and she immediately put a hand over her stomach in a protective gesture.

"Fuck," Victoria cursed.

“Did he seriously just do that?” Arthur croaked. “Did he just tell all of F1 - no, all of the world - that Colette is pregnant?”

All three of them just gaped at the TV.

Danica Patricks looked like a vampire that had just tasted blood. "Her current condition?" she asked, her voice honeyed sweet.

"Yes," Jos confirmed simply. "The baby is supposed to come any day now. We’re all incredibly excited for the new addition to the family. I mean, it took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough."

He said like it was a joke. Like it hadn't taken them the better part of 3 years and 2 miscarriages.

Colette’s whole body had tensed, her heart clenching painfully in her chest as the words echoed in her mind: It took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough. Those words felt like a punch to the gut - like a mockery of all the pain and disappointment and suffering.

All the stress and anxiety and anguish that they had gone through. All the tears and the desperation and prayers for a miracle.

And all of it reduced to a cheap, dirty joke.

"I am going to throttle him," Victoria said, her voice shaking.

"Get in line," Arthur grumbled, looking equally enraged.

Colette just sat there staring fixedly at the screen, feeling like her whole mind had gone numb.

It was one thing when Jos made his snide little comments to them, but it was quite another when he decided to talk about that on international TV. He made it sound like their troubles to conceive had only been a matter of not trying hard enough.

It felt like a gut punch. Colette had always known that Jos had no idea how hard the last couple of years had been for them, but now, in light of his comment, it sounded like he somehow assumed it had all been their own fault.

They had kept both miscarriages quiet...had only shared it with a handful of people. She knew that Max had told Vic about it, but he had never told his father.

Her hands were shaking with anger. The urge to throw something - anything - was almost overwhelming as the words echoed in her head over and over: It took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough.

How could he have been so cruel? How could he go and announce it on international television and make it sound like it hadn’t been the hardest thing that either of them had ever been through?

It felt like a betrayal. Colette had never expected much out of Max’s father, but this? This felt like twisting the knife in a still-healing wound and pouring salt into it.

It felt like a stab to the back. Jos had no idea. No idea how hard it had been to keep the hope up. No idea how much it had hurt with every failed test and every lost dream. And no idea how much they both had longed for the baby that was growing within her.

And now he was just treating it like it had been a matter of not working hard enough, as if it had been an easy task and they had simply taken their sweet time to do something that came naturally to most people.

Her mind would have continued to turn into circles...if there hadn't been a sudden stabbing pain low in her abdomen.

Colette winced as the pain flared. It was a shock, and her hands immediately flew down to press against the source of the pain.

"Are you alright?" Victoria asked immediately. Colette clenched her teeth as the cramping pain seemed to grow even worse, before easing.

"Just...just a cramp," Colette managed to breathe out. "It's fine. It's fine. I just- it just startled me, that's all."

She tried to assure herself that it was nothing. Just Braxton Hicks - just the body preparing for the labor, the pain sometimes got intense. But something about it felt...off.

"Is that the first one today?" Victoria asked her. "You winced a few times this morning."

Colette thought back to this morning, recalling how she had woken up with a stabbing pain in her lower back. She hadn’t thought much of it then, since her muscles hadn’t been happy with her in a long time at this point - and it had passed pretty quickly after a few minutes.

"I'm not sure, I-" she started, her breath catching.

There was pain again, another stabbing contraction.

"Are they getting stronger?" Victoria asked, her voice sharpening.

The pain receded after a few seconds, and Colette had to force down the urge to curl up on the couch with her hands on her stomach as she tried to take deep breaths."It's nothing. I still have 4 weeks," Colette said with a shake of her head.

The words sounded like a prayer. Because she wasn’t due for at least another month, after all. This was just the Braxton Hicks contractions that her doctor had warned her about. The practice contractions that were supposed to help get her body ready for labor, nothing to worry about.

It was just her body preparing for the birth, that was all.

But the pain came back again, and this time, Colette couldn't quite suppress the gasp as she closed her eyes and tried to breathe through it.

"Colette," Victoria said, her voice sharp. "I don’t think they’re just practice contractions. The way you’re tensing and wincing...this is the real deal. I think you’re going into actual labor."

“No,” Colette said, her heart lurching in her chest. “No, no, I’m not…I’m not supposed to go into labor until January, this is- this is not supposed to happen.”

She had just hit her 36th week, and she was due at the start of January. It was far too early for the labor to start.

"I don't think the baby cares about that," Victoria said with a laugh. "Come on, we'll need to get you to the hospital."

"No, I can't be in labour. Max isn't here," she disagreed.

Colette felt a fresh wave of panic wash over her. The very last thing she wanted to do was start labor without Max there, and Max was currently in the middle of a race on the opposite end of the world.

“Where’s your hospital bag?“ Victoria asked her, all business. “Where’s are the car keys? Arthur is driving.“

“What, no!“ Arthur squeaked. Arthur clearly looked terrified, his eyes growing like saucers as he stared at them. "No - no, I don’t think I can-"

But Victoria was already rounding on him. "Oh yes, you can. Just get the keys and get the damn car ready. I‘ll help Colette get her things, and you'll drive us."

The authority in her voice was intimidating enough that Arthur didn’t dare to disagree with her, and he nodded mutely and hurried away to look for the car keys.

Colette was torn between laughing at her brother’s expression and panicking over the fact that her labor was actually starting.

Just like that, she felt frozen in place a few moments longer, before Victoria snapped her fingers in front of her face. "Hey, no freezing up. We need to get moving. We need to get to the hospital, and your kid doesn’t care that it still needs 4 more weeks. So come on, come on, get your things."

It snapped her out of her temporary daze, and she managed to focus back to the present again. "Right, yeah," Colette mumbled, and she quickly went to get her hospital bag.

She had already packed it, just in case - but she had definitely not expected to actually use it.

Her hands were shaking as she picked it up, the whole situation still not entirely sinking in yet. Max was not here. She was going to have her baby without him here - that wasn’t how it was supposed to be!

But the pain came back again, and her body seemed to agree that there was no time left to waste.

She winced through the contraction, and Vic’s face tensed as she saw it.

"How are you doing?" she asked, watching her worriedly. Colette had to take a deep breath, trying to keep breathing as the pain faded out again. "I’m-” she started, but that was the same second that Arthur appeared again with the keys.

"The car is ready," he said, sounding very much like he’d rather bolt.

"Right," Victoria said, and she looked at Colette. "We gotta go. You good to go?"

Colette felt a surge of panic as the truth of leaving to go to the hospital finally sank in - she felt very much like her entire body had seized up. But Arthur was already waiting at the door with an expectant look on his face that did not look at all reassuring, and Victoria had picked up her hospital bag and was ushering Colette’s towards the hallway.

The contractions didn’t seem to care about any of her feelings, anyway.

"Come on," Victoria told her quietly. "We're gonna go and have a beautiful birth, and when you're done, there’ll be a healthy baby in your arms, okay?"

Colette was sure that her face had gone pale, and her hands were shaking as she slowly made her way through the hallway. Victoria led her the entire time, supporting her as they moved.

She was more than grateful to slip into the backseat of the Audi and her hands could claw themselves into the buttery soft leather interior.

“Are you sure we can’t wait for an adult?“ Arthur asked weakly.

“You are an adult. You literally drive race cars for a living,“ Victoria snapped.

Colette would have laughed at Arthur’s terrified expression in any other situation, but at the moment, she really wasn’t up to find anything funny.

“Just drive the damn car, Arthur!“ Victoria snapped, and Arthur flinched, his eyes wide as saucers.

A whimper escaped Colette as another contraction gripped her, and she curled up in the back seat, both hands clawed in the seat as the wave of pain ebbed away again. Her breathing was ragged, and she felt like she was slowly coming apart at the seams.

"Keep breathing," Victoria’s sharp voice came from her left side, and she felt a cool, smooth hand on her forehead. "Just keep breathing. You're doing great."

The words managed to cut through the panic, and Colette managed to gasp out a shuddering breath. “I-” she choked out, “I can’t…I can’t do this without Max, I-”

"You are doing it," Victoria cut in, her voice steady and sharp like a blade. "You are doing it, and you are going to be fine. Max will be by your side the moment he can, but you will make it until then. Just keep breathing and keep talking, you’re doing great."

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star2fishmeg · 3 days ago

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Can I get a SMUT 51 with Jack Hughes please?

Thank you for requesting <3 - Happy New Year!

SMUT #51 "Do you think they heard us?" "Yes, we did."

📞 dialling…

The back of her head bumped against the door. The single occupancy bathroom hogged by the looming smell of sex and slapping of skin. Jack’s hips drove into hers at faltering paces, hands gripping her thighs as she clamped them tight around his waist. He buried his face in her neck, muffling his loose groans every time his tip kissed her cervix, her moans replaced with strained whimpers at the way his veins dragged through her walls easily.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he rasped, placing a sloppy kiss to her cheek, “m’gonna cum, princess. Fuck, you feel so good.”

They meant to be in there for a quickie, but those five minutes turned to ten minutes and at least twenty had flown by, far too long for anyone to not have noticed. He should have known how much he loved burrowing his cock inside her, how he slipped in and how it was never just one round. Y/n knew well how weak in the knees he fell when it came to bathroom sex, especially in public spaces. How could Jack say no when she batted her eyelashes and undressed him with her eyes? He craved that goading desire that shot straight through his chest in spurs of rapture down to his dick. That adrenaline that made his lips pull into a smirk and hand place itself onto her lower back.

“Cum with me, J. Please, fucking please cum inside me.” She moaned airily, fingers gripping his hair and eyes rolling back. There wasn’t any other way to describe the knot inside her stomach other than a carnal desire controlled by the captivating combination of her boyfriend’s cedarwood cologne and the way his black t-shirt pulled tight around his chest.

“Can’t say no when you ask me like that,” he slammed one hand against the door, pressing her back further into the wood, rutting faster, hitting her spongey spot with perfect passion until a lewd bliss deemed her light-headed, “can’t ever say no to you, pretty girl. Makin’ pretty noises f’me, m’gonna give you everything you want.”

Wet, opened mouthed kisses trailed along her column, breath fanning across her neck and his lashes tickling over her skin while his cock plunged in and out of her cunt. His grunts matched every thrust inside her and his brows knitted, abs clenching as his pace hurried in a frenzy, desperate to draw out her breathy whines. She dug her nails into his back, fisting his shirt as her jaw fell open, pleasure rippling through her and the carnality of his passion, his love pooled through her stomach and coated his cock white.

Jack grinned into her neck, lips brushing over her cheek to press against her mouth and keep her moaning to himself, fervour in the way their tongues lapped and moved with each other. His thrusting stuttered, a deep groan from the back of his throat escaping with sweat trickling down his temple, the tightness inside his stomach releasing thick ropes of cum that leaked down her thighs as his pace fell to leisurely until stopping to nestle.

They could’ve stayed there longer, just holding each other but the voices on the other side of the door had ears perking and mouths hesitantly parting. Jack’s eyes rolled in irritation, of course it had to be them.

“I told you they were fucking. They do this literally every time.” Luke laughed.

“Okay you win, but we still can’t assume it’s them.” Nico countered but Luke’s disapproving groan came across louder than either of the night’s people of interest had thought.

Her eyes widened, meeting Jack’s. Neither said a word, the bathroom falling into silence where the only slither of noise was their heavy breathing, hearts pounding and a wave of panic washed over them, the pair shrugging at each other. They’d never been in that position before, being caught. Usually, it was a quick fuck and leave like nothing happened, but greed got the better of them.

“Do you think they heard us?” Jack asked, knowing it was a foolish question but still grinning like he was proud.

Y/n opened her mouth, but it was Luke’s voice who answered, “Yes, we did. And are you done? Some of us have to break the seal out here.”

She mirrored Jack’s grin, double-tapping his shoulder and he pulled out and tucked himself away. New Year’s resolution? Don’t get caught, especially by your brother and Captain.

#≡megs1kcelly #≡jh86 #jack hughes #jack hughes smut

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steddieas-shegoes · 3 days ago

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coming in clutch

@starrystevie asked two days ago for someone to write enemies to lovers Steddie on the same hockey team and one of them gives the other his stick from the bench and so I volunteered and yesterday afternoon started writing this and it got to almost 6000 words by this morning. Oops?

This is therapy for me, as a Bruins fan, who is suffering tremendously this season. I can't believe some people live like this all the time. I am so, so sorry. I promise you fixing it with Steddie helps ease the ache a little. It's bitch4bitch, what's not to love?

rated e, minors dni | 5801 words | also on ao3 | cw: mention of injury, hate making out for the drama | tags: modern au, hockey au, enemies to lovers, feelings realization, sorta love confessions, anal fingering, anal sex, handjob, life is a series of connections

🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒

If there’s one thing Eddie Munson knows, it’s that Steve Harrington will steal the show.

With less than two minutes left in the game that will determine if they clinch the wild card spot for the playoffs, it could still go either way. They need a goal to tie it, and the point will be enough to get in, even if they lose in overtime.

The Rangers don’t even get anything if they win this one except a pat on the back, yet they’ve pulled their goalie in hopes of ruining the only chance the Bruins have of getting into the playoffs. If Eddie wasn’t seething with rage about potentially starting his offseason much sooner than expected, he’d respect the hell out of them for it.

How they got into this much of a mess is beyond him…or really it isn’t. It’s well within reach.

He knows from the beginning shit was hitting the fan and then it just…kept hitting the fan.

They started bad and they don’t play well from behind in games, so how could they catch up when their entire season went to shit so early on?

It should never come down to one win, not for them.

But he knows that some of the issues are that Steve was handed this captaincy before he was ready, and Eddie’s done nothing to truly help him. He wears an A, but it’s more for Asshole or Annoyance than Assistant. He knows it, Steve knows it, the team knows it.

It’s making everything harder.

Coach already lit him up a few times over stupid shit this season, things he can’t get away with for much longer. His time will be cut short on this team if he can’t-

The whistle blows and there’s a penalty on Hargrove. Not surprising, but it’s enough to get Eddie out of his own head and focus. There’s barely a minute left and they’re facing a long offseason if they don’t get their shit together.

He won’t see more ice time today. He’s third line right now, a demotion from his usual first line after a string of shitty, stupid penalties. Coach will send the first line back out for the last minute to increase their chances of scoring.

The puck drops and they make the fastest line change they’ve managed the entire game.

Steve’s skating to the puck, eyes on the prize. He’s good at it, despite Eddie hating that he feels constant competition with him. They don’t even play the same position. Eddie’s a defenseman for fuck sake. Steve’s a center. The only competition is what’s made up in his own head.

Steve gets there first, manages to pass it to Sinclair, who passes it to Hagan. It’s beautiful, but it’s not enough.

The puck is cleared out and they have to rush to it to start setting up again.

They don’t have time.

And then Steve tries to shoot it to center ice and his stick breaks. It’s the worst timing. Eddie feels his heart sink in his chest at the realization that this is it. They’re done.

Steve’s skating to the bench, yelling about needing a replacement when he should just get off the ice, let someone else out there. They’re gonna lose anyway.

Eddie throws Steve his own stick. It’s not the right curve, and not the right length. It’s not even the same brand.

But if there’s one thing Eddie can respect about Steve, it’s that he’s a damn good player. He makes shit happen, even when no one else can. He’s been their saving grace this season, arguably the only reason they’ve managed to even have a shot at the wild card spot.

He may hate his guts, and he may be annoyed that he got picked as captain, and he may also find him impossible to be around most of the time, but he can see that he’s one of the best players in the league.

Steve’s never skated harder than in this moment, and Eddie can’t feel his face as Steve sneaks the puck between the legs of Wheeler, winds back, and shoots.

None of their players get to it in time.

It goes in their empty net.

The bench is so loud, Eddie can’t even hear himself think.

They’ve tied it up.

The clock says 24 seconds.

It’s as good as done.

They’ll have overtime, of course, but they squeaked in the playoffs. They get at least four more games.

Steve skates to the bench and hands Eddie his stick, but doesn’t say anything.

That irks Eddie a little.

“Not even a thank you for getting the assist on that one?” Eddie asks because if he’s one thing, it’s a shithead.

“Shut up, Munson. Could’ve scored an empty net from the locker room,” Steve replies with an eyeroll, his smile dropping in annoyance.

A for annoyance, after all.

“With a broken stick?” Eddie pushes because he loves to push and because Steve always pushes back.

It’s their game.

Steve sits on the bench, catches his breath for a moment while the arena celebrates his goal.

“How about a thank you for getting us to the playoffs?” Steve says back.

It’s unlike him to be self-centered like this. It throws Eddie off.

For once, he doesn’t have a damn thing to say.

The goalie gets back in the net and the Rangers finish off the regulation game with their tails tucked between their legs.

Eddie doesn’t get sent back out, but neither does Steve.

Coach leans down to say something in Steve’s ear and he grits his teeth together, jaw clenching painfully.

When they’re about to start overtime, Coach taps his back and tells him to go.

“But it’s first line?” Eddie asks.

“I said go, Munson!” Coach says, leaving no room for argument.

So Eddie goes. He’s not gonna argue with the coach, and he’s damn sure not gonna be the reason there’s a delay in starting.

He skates to the blue line and sees the focus on Steve’s eyes.

This game can end either way to him and he won’t care, but Steve wants this win. He wants the two points, not just one. He wants to say they overcame a shitty game to pull off a win.

He would never admit it, but his effort is for Steve. His speed and hits during the first shift are to give Steve every opportunity to pull off this win.

If Steve wins, they all win.

Eddie should have had that mindset for every game. Maybe they wouldn’t have had to fight for their lives just to get a shot at the playoffs.

It’s not a great shift, but they manage to shut the Rangers down a few times.

Steve is red-faced on the bench, watching the second line move with a fire they were lacking for much of the first 60 minutes. That’s been a pattern this season, something Eddie isn’t sure they’ll get over with this group.

It ends during the third line’s shift.

The Rangers get a breakaway and score.

It’s a loss, but they’ve still won something. They aren’t leaving completely empty-handed.

The walk down the tunnel is interrupted by the broadcast person yelling for Steve to stay back to do the post-game interview and accept third star of the game. It always sucks accepting a star away from home ice, but Steve’s used to it by now.

He’s the guy who comes in clutch. He’s always a star.

Eddie’s only a little jealous over it.

The rest of the team is pretty quiet despite their playoff spot.

Coach stands in the center of the room.

“We got lucky,” he says. His tone is calm, but there’s something hidden beneath it that Eddie can sense is anger. “We won’t get lucky in the first round. Get your shit together before next week or you might as well start scheduling your tropical vacations.”

He leaves the room.

No one says anything as they get undressed. No one speaks when Steve comes in the room and wordlessly undresses. No one utters a word when he’s the first to leave, even though that’s the first time that’s happened in the history of ever.

Eddie follows him.

He should give him space. Now isn’t the time to work him up more.

Now is the time to be a good teammate, a good alternate captain. Behave and follow the rules and be a good example off the ice. Leadership saw something in him to give him the A in the first place, now’s his chance to prove he respects them for it.

“Since when do you walk out without a speech?” Eddie calls after him when they’ve exited the building. This arena is relatively normal, but there’s a lower level of parking just for VIP. He doesn’t see anyone else yet, but that’s not surprising. Their bus is parked a few rows away, doors up to start loading equipment for the haul to the airport.

“Since there isn’t a damn thing I can say to get this team motivated and I’m done trying!” Steve yells back without turning. “If you’d like to try, go right ahead.”

“Doesn’t seem like something a captain would do.”

Steve freezes, turns.

His face is bright red and Eddie knows immediately he pushed too far.

“Maybe you should be the captain if you know so much about what it takes, hm? Maybe instead of passing me your stick to score you could score one once in a fucking while. Maybe,” Steve takes a shaky breath, exhales it right into Eddie’s face. He didn’t even notice how close he was before. “You could start acting like a leader and less like a fuckin’ nuisance.”

Eddie scoffs.

“I’m sorry I helped? Was I supposed to let the opportunity to score go? Would you rather have not tied the game? Do you wish we were going home for the summer instead of just the next few days?”

Steve’s chest is brushing against Eddie’s.

Neither of them showered, so there’s a faint scent of sweat clinging to his nostrils, but Steve must’ve freshened up with deodorant and cologne before getting changed. Cedar and pine overtakes the locker room smell as Eddie’s eyes dart down to Steve’s lips.

“Did you want me to do all the work for you?” Eddie grins.

It’s painful, when their lips crash together. Eddie doesn’t care.

Steve’s mad, he’s loud, and he tastes like victory. It has nothing to do with their game.

“C’mon,” Steve says against his lips, and Eddie isn’t sure exactly what he wants. They’re kissing in public, in a place that could be filled with their teammates any second. Steve’s hands are against his chest, pulling him impossibly closer by his shirt. “More. You want more out of me, take it.”

Eddie’s not always the smartest guy in the room. He’s, like, smart, but sometimes he misses some obvious shit. Unobservant, his uncle calls him.

But he can read people pretty well if he has a second to really see them and he thinks he’s seeing something Steve didn’t mean to show. He knows what Steve’s really asking and he knows he can give that to him.

“No.”

Steve stills. He pulls away, hurt clear on his face before he manages to school his features. It’s eery how quickly he was able to do it.

“Knew you weren’t up for it, anyways,” Steve mutters, but Eddie doesn’t let him walk away.

His grip on Steve’s wrist is tight enough to cut off circulation, tight enough to bruise. Steve doesn’t react at all.

“I’m not taking anything from you. You’re gonna take what you need from me.”

Steve’s brows furrow, and Eddie allows himself a moment— just one— to think that he’s cute like this. If they weren’t teammates, and if Eddie could stand him for more than a few minutes at a time, maybe they could do something.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“No? Like how you didn’t need my stick to score earlier?”

Steve’s mouth snaps closed, but Eddie doesn’t feel as smug as he normally would. He can hear voices coming and he knows that if they leave here now without something worked out, it’ll be like none of this ever happened.

“When we get back, come to my place,” Eddie orders.

“And if I don’t?”

Eddie laughs.

Steve likes to win. He’s gonna come just to see what his prize will be.

He boards the bus and ignores his half-hard dick in his slacks.

Steve always finds a way into his brain. And now he’s found a way into his bed.

~~~~~

The bus ride is quiet, but most of the guys are busy texting significant others and coming down from the adrenaline of the game. The flight is silent, everyone taking a power nap before they have to get back home. They’ll have a day off tomorrow, but most of these guys are married and have kids, or fiancées who haven’t quite figured out that a day off is needed for recovery, not for filling the calendar with other events.

Steve is far away from Eddie, barely even visible unless Eddie leans into the aisle and squints.

He doesn’t do that more than once, doesn’t wanna draw attention to whatever it is that’s happening between them.

Eddie is the first off the plane, but he walks slow enough to his car that a few teammates catch up and tell him his quick reaction saved their asses. He laughs and thanks them, tells them they’ve got some work to do if they’re gonna win the first round, and gets in his car.

Somehow, Steve’s already at his door when he gets home.

“Eager?” Eddie asks.

“You tell me,” Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and places it over his crotch. He’s already hard.

“Did you touch yourself on the way here?” Eddie feels like he’s been struck by lightning, energy zapping through him at the speed of light. Realizing Steve’s into this is rewiring his brain.

“Obviously,” Steve rolls his eyes.

Eddie unlocks his door and pushes Steve inside. He pushes him down the hall and right onto the bed. He pushes until Steve pushes back.

“I thought I was taking from you,” Steve says as he sits up, taking his shirt off and throwing it to the ground.

“You are. But only when I’m ready to give. I need a second,” Eddie says as he strips his own shirt off. He walks to his bathroom to throw some water on his face and pretend for a second that the sweat dripping down his spine isn’t a ridiculous reaction to Steve.

“It’s been a second!” Steve calls to him.

Eddie smirks at himself in the mirror before heading back to the bed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I assume you’ve got something specific in mind?”

Steve eyes him up and down. “Take everything off.”

Eddie does as he says. Steve’s surprise that he didn’t argue is obvious.

“Get lube and condoms.”

Eddie reaches into his bedside drawer and gets out his unopened bottle of lube and the only three condoms he has that may or may not be expired. He doesn’t have time to fuck around much, and most of the time he does, it never gets far enough to need a condom.

His traitorous stomach swoops at the thought of Steve being inside him.

Steve looks at him like he’s starving and Eddie’s a five course meal on a table in front of him, and Eddie likes it. He likes that Steve wants to devour him.

He’s pulled into a bruising kiss, can taste blood on his tongue when he swallows spit that’s just as much Steve’s as his own. Eddie knows if they kiss like this for long enough, Steve will barely have to touch him at all to get him there.

As if reading his mind, Steve’s hand is on his dick, stroking it slow enough to drive him insane. Eddie blushes, but doesn’t let it hold him back from pushing Steve more.

“You gonna take your clothes off or are the lube and condoms just for decoration?”

Any hand is better than his own, but Steve’s hand might be the death of him. He tightens his grip around him, leaning in to bite Eddie’s collarbone.

He’s sensitive there and somehow Steve knows it, and Eddie might die tonight, but he can’t let Steve know he’s making him feel this fucking good. He wants Steve to take what he wants, but he doesn’t wanna give it easily.

“You like this with everyone or am I special?” Steve asks before he licks a stripe up Eddie’s neck.

It’s gross. It’s hot as fuck. Eddie’s lightheaded.

“Just you, sugar. Or should I call you Captain here, too?”

Steve pulls back like he’s been burned.

“I’m not your captain right now.” He’s glaring at Eddie, making him wish he could shrink into the mattress, down through the floor. “I’m Steve. Got it?”

“Got it,” Eddie’s nodding along, but he feels like he’s teetering into uncharted territory, some kind of rough terrain that most people don’t get past the fence to explore.

Steve starts taking and Eddie lets him.

First, it’s rough hands pushing him around until he’s in the position Steve wants him: face down, arms under the pillows, legs spread so Steve can see him.

Then, it’s teasing touches, laughing when Eddie gasps and moans, nipping at his skin after a soft brush of his fingers.

It’s hot and cold, it’s hard and soft, it’s push and pull.

It’s the first time Eddie feels like he understands who Steve is.

The lube is cold as Steve spreads it around his entrance, more teasing, more taking. Eddie doesn’t mind. He’s always loved the build-up as much as the finale.

Steve’s quiet, focused, as he works his fingers into him. He’s meticulous about it, looking for the best reactions.

When Eddie whines into the pillow, spreading his legs further apart to make more room for whatever Steve wants from him, he realizes that this will change everything. He should’ve realized it sooner. He may regret it tomorrow. He may not.

“You ready?” Steve asks.

Eddie feels empty. Steve’s fingers aren’t there anymore, aren’t stretching him and prodding every sensitive part of him. He whimpers pitifully at the loss.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Steve’s cock is pushing against his entrance, and Eddie thinks he was severely mistaken about Steve before.

Because why is Steve being gentle? Why is his hand rubbing Eddie’s spine as he pushes into him slowly? Why are his lips against Eddie’s shoulder, not kissing so much as resting there, his hot breath a comfort that he’s right there paying attention to everything Eddie’s doing?

Why is this the best Eddie’s ever been fucked and why does it feel less like getting fucked and more like making love with every passing moment?

Steve’s big, which Eddie knew already. There’s just a difference between seeing it and feeling it. He fills him up, makes him wonder if he’ll be sore tomorrow.

Kind of hopes he will be.

“Take it,” Eddie mumbles against the pillow.

Steve grabs his hair, strong grip, but gently pulling. “What?”

“Take me.”

Eddie’s not sure where those words come from, but he feels the way Steve responds. His cock twitches inside him, his hands grip his waist harder, and Steve moans against his shoulder.

His own cock is trapped against the sheets, but it’s fine. He’s in no rush. Steve will take what he wants and Eddie will wait. He’ll wait all night if he has to.

He feels good like this, at Steve’s mercy.

He didn’t think he’d be able to relax under him. He thought the fight he always has to assert his own dominance with Steve would carry over here, too.

But it’s easy to let Steve have this.

He knows that Steve needs this just as much as Eddie needs to be used.

“You’re quiet. Everything okay?” Steve whispers against his skin. A check-in to make sure Eddie doesn’t need to stop.

“I’m good. Feels good. Keep going.”

The softness never goes away, but Steve’s moving faster, breathing heavier, putting more weight on Eddie’s back. It’s almost too much, the pressure inside him, surrounding him. The scent of Steve, the scent of both of them mingling together and staining his bedsheets.

He’ll have to wash them tomorrow. He won’t.

“God,” Eddie says as he fists the pillow under his head. “Right there.”

Steve’s nailing his prostate, almost more than he can handle. It feels like when they reach their groove on the ice, like despite their disagreements and different styles of play, they’ve meshed together for this moment to make something happen.

“Yeah? You like letting me have you like this?” Steve asks.

It feels out of place here, but Eddie’s allowing it all. If this is what Steve needs, if this will help, then he’ll let Steve have everything.

“Mhm. C’mon, want you to come,” Eddie begs.

He doesn’t want this to be over, though. He finds it shocking how much he wants Steve to keep fucking into him for hours, finding new positions and ways to make Eddie question his existence. He wishes Steve wasn’t wearing a condom, wishes he could fill him up with his cum, plug him up so he stays filled until morning.

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking these things. He’s never wanted that with anyone, let alone Steve.

Steve’s hand covers the back of his neck, applies just enough pressure that Eddie knows it would be hard to move.

He’s coming before he even realizes the tug in his belly is there, moaning into the pillow as Steve’s hips meet his ass with every thrust. It’s too much, but Eddie’s giving himself.

That’s all this is.

It’s everything now, but tomorrow it’ll be nothing.

And the day after that, when they have team meetings to review tape for their first round matchup, it’ll be even less than nothing. It’ll be like nothing ever happened and Eddie never let Steve fuck him into his mattress. It’ll be back to tolerating each other for their job, and Eddie poking at him until Steve is riled up and the coach is yelling at both of them to get their shit together.

And then when they inevitably lose in the first round, they’ll go all summer without speaking and Eddie may get traded to a team that will put up with his antics.

Eddie sniffles.

“Eddie? Shit.” Steve pulls out, which is wrong and terrible and not at all what he wants. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Was it too much?”

“No,” Eddie’s voice is shaking and he feels stupid. How did this happen? How did he get to this point? Over Steve Harrington? “Sorry, I’m okay.”

“You’re clearly not okay.” Steve turns him over so he’s on his back and that makes everything so much worse.

His release is sticky across his stomach and the head of his cock, and he’s flush from his cheeks to his toes. Tears have fallen, leaving tracks down his face.

He doesn’t paint a pretty picture.

“What’s this about?”

“I didn’t expect this,” Eddie admits.

It can’t hurt. Honesty is only a small vulnerability compared to letting a man fuck you.

“Expect what?”

“This. You to be soft and caring. You don’t even fucking like me. I thought you’d be quick, come on my back, and then find a reason to leave,” Eddie says, covering his face with his hands. It sounds even dumber out loud. Jesus.

“The thought did occur to me,” Steve says.

Eddie peeks through his fingers to see Steve smiling with an eyebrow raised.

“What the fuck is happening.”

Steve snorts. “You threw me your stick during the play so I could score the goal that sealed us a shot at the Cup. I’ve been hard for, like, six hours now, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude while you’re staring at my dick!” Eddie argues.

“You annoy the shit out of me,” Steve rolls his eyes. “More than anyone else I’ve ever played with.”

“Okay. My dick’s already soft, you don’t have to talk me down, Steve,” Eddie groans, covering his face again.

Steve pulls his hands away, laces their fingers together, squeezes. Eddie’s stomach flutters.

“But you’re good. And you know you’re good. That’s why you’re as frustrated as I am about how this season’s been. It has fuck all to do with me being captain, and everything to do with nothing going right for us.”

Steve’s right. He’s always right, even though Eddie rarely acknowledges it.

“Does this kind of talk get you off or should I do something for you?” Eddie tries to joke, to push.

But Steve doesn’t push back this time.

He cups Eddie’s jaw and leans in, kisses him soft, so gentle it feels like a whisper of something Eddie’s absolutely terrified to name.

“Let me take a little more,” Steve says against his lips.

He lifts Eddie’s legs and slides back into him, and Eddie moans at the overstimulation. He’s definitely gonna be sore when he wakes up, but he doesn’t mind so much right now.

“That’s it,” Steve groans as he moves in and out, holding Eddie’s legs apart so he can make sure he gets as deep as possible. “Let me have it.”

Eddie’s never come twice like this, without his cock even being touched properly. But here he is, barely even hard again, and cum is leaking onto his stomach as he whimpers his way through another orgasm.

“Fuck, so good.” Steve’s hips stutter as he tenses his hands around Eddie’s thighs. “That’s it, baby. Let me fill you up.”

It’s not real, but for a second Eddie can picture it. He pretends he can feel it inside him, and his cock twitches, but otherwise doesn’t act like it can do anything else tonight.

Steve lets his legs drop as he pulls out, and Eddie winces at the feeling of emptiness it brings.

Eddie closes his eyes, tries to figure out how he’s gonna ask Steve to stay.

“Is it okay if I stick around?” Steve asks before he can think of something.

“Yeah, of course. Shower’s all yours if you want it,” Eddie offers, sounding breathless still. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels like the world around him is spinning.

“You wanna join?” Steve asks him, seriously.

“Showering together doesn’t seem like a teammate thing to do,” Eddie replies.

“Neither is watching a teammate come twice.”

“Point made.” Eddie groans as he turns on his side, reaching a hand out until he makes contact with skin. He thinks it’s Steve's thigh, but he can’t be sure with his eyes closed. “Go on without me. I can’t feel my legs or my…anything.”

Steve doesn’t get up, and he doesn’t say anything. After at least a minute of silence, Eddie blinks his eyes open to see Steve staring at him.

“Are you gonna be fucking creepy all night? I rescind my permission to stay if you are.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s just. I’ve seen you mostly naked so many times, but I never noticed this scar.”

Steve gently brushes a finger across the scar on Eddie’s abdomen. It’s barely an inch in length, and you can’t even see it unless the light hits it just right.

Eddie looks down at it, at the way Steve’s fingertips graze the outer edges. He doesn’t think about it much anymore, but he remembers when it happened.

“Junior hockey. Kid’s skate got me just as I was falling. My chestie rose up too high and didn’t protect the spot,” Eddie shrugs. It could’ve been a lot worse. He was back on the ice within three days. “Accidents happen.”

Eddie watches Steve’s face morph from curious to confused and then shocked.

“That was you?” Steve asks.

“What do you mean?” Eddie leans up on an elbow, looks back at Steve as if he’s lost his mind.

“I…holy shit. They never told me the player’s name. Just said he was getting stitches in the locker room and would be fine,” Steve is rambling, gesturing wildly and shaking his head. “They wouldn’t let me check on you. I tried as soon as the game was over.”

“I’m still confused.”

“It was my skate. I tripped over a player’s stick as you were falling. I didn’t even realize it actually hit you until I saw the blood on the ice.” Steve scoots down so he’s eye level with the scar and then he does something that changes Eddie’s DNA.

He presses his mouth to the scar, his lips parting just enough for his hot breath to cause goosebumps to break out across Eddie’s skin.

“Why did you give me your stick?” Steve whispers.

Eddie swallows. He feels heavy, weighed down by whatever this is.

“You had a chance. You just needed a stick,” he whispers back.

“Eddie. You would rather lose than help me any other time.” Steve tilts his head to look up at Eddie. “Why did you pass me your stick?”

“I-” Eddie breathes in. “I wanted to do something right. I wanted you to look at me and not see someone failing for once. I wanted to be good enough to wear the A.”

Steve’s forehead drops to his hip, and it takes a moment for Eddie to realize he’s laughing.

“What’s funny about that?” Eddie’s ready to pull away, kind of wants to make Steve leave now that he’s feeling like he’s being made fun of.

“I just cannot believe that you would think you aren’t good enough.” Steve looks back up at him, grinning, eyes shining with amusement. “Who do you think chose you for the A?”

Eddie thinks about it. He always assumed that the coaches just picked the guy with the most NHL experience out of the few options they had. He never thought he’d be A or C material professionally, so he accepted the offer, grateful to be given the chance.

He felt like an idiot for wasting the opportunity this season.

He didn’t produce the way he knows he can, and he let his stupid jealousy of Steve get in the way of everything. It’s not like he wanted the responsibility of being captain. He knows now he probably isn’t cut out for any type of leadership role with the team.

“I thought the coaches?” Eddie frames it as a question because now he isn’t sure.

“They wanted to name Hagan. I suggested you instead.”

Eddie’s breath catches. “You suggested me? Why? You fucking hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Steve raises a brow and gestures at their current state. “I don’t sleep with people I hate.”

“I thought it was spur of the moment! Like you were so mad at me that the only thing you could do to get it out of your system was fuck me!”

Eddie’s head is spinning.

“I mean, it was spur of the moment. I never had any intentions of acting on anything I felt for you.”

Eddie’s head is going to explode.

“Harrington. You’re really making my head hurt. Like, I have never felt this confused after getting fucked.”

Steve laughs, which doesn’t help anything. It almost makes it worse.

He crawls back up so he’s only inches from kissing Eddie.

“I chose you. They said I had to pick someone who would compliment me on and off the ice and you were the first and only choice I could make. You’re an incredible player and the only defenseman I trust on this fucking roster,” Steve leans his head forward, resting his forehead against Eddie’s. “If I’m annoyed with you, it’s because I’m annoyed at myself. I’m making your job harder by losing the room. I don’t even know how it happened.”

“You haven’t lost the room,” Eddie interrupts, placing his hand on Steve’s hip. “They love you. You’re the hero.”

“I don’t wanna be the only guy who comes through, though. I want everyone to succeed.”

“They will. It’s just not our year. It happens. We started off bad and we never got back on track.”

Steve huffs out a breath. “It’s my job to make it work.”

“It’s everyone’s job to make it work. You can’t do it by yourself. They don’t hand Stanley Cups to a player, they hand them to a team.”

Steve smirks. “They do hand them to a player first, though.”

Eddie smacks him. “Don’t argue with me. I’ve had my brains fucked out of my head.”

They stare at each other, both of them smiling fondly.

It’s such a stark difference to everything they’ve been this whole season. Eddie doesn’t know how to handle the electricity between them. He thought it would fade once they were done, once Steve cleaned up and they got dressed. In the morning, he’d leave, and they’d go back to being a mediocre team and he’d probably end up traded or losing the A.

But now, he’s looking at Steve with something he’s pretty sure is affection, maybe even love. It’s ridiculous, which is why he isn’t gonna say anything.

“So, are we good?” Steve asks.

It’s such a jock thing to say. It throws Eddie off yet again.

“Um. Yeah.” He pulls away slightly, considers turning around and getting under the blankets. “We’re good. Hit the showers or whatever.”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Eddie has got to figure out how to get a read on this guy. Seriously, the whiplash he’s getting from Steve’s words and actions might break his neck.

“You want to?”

“I don’t kiss people I don’t want to kiss.”

“Alright, then.”

It’s so soft, it practically melts what little brain Eddie has left. He’s not sure he’s ever been kissed like this, like he’s precious and like this moment needs to be cherished.

“Are you still gonna be a bitch?” Eddie ruins it.

Or, he thinks he does. But Steve is just smiling at him, amused, like he wants nothing more than Eddie’s attitude.

“Depends on if you’re gonna keep giving me problems.”

“Oh, so this is like a thing for you.”

“What?”

“You like disciplining me. Oh, this will be so fun.”

Steve shakes his head and falls against the pillows. Eddie turns his own head to smile at him.

“You didn’t answer me,” he says after a minute of just watching Steve exist in his bed.

“You answered yourself.”

“You’re irritating.”

“So are you.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“Everything is a competition,” Steve turns his head to look at Eddie, smirking. “And I’m winning.”

“We’ll see about that.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #hockey au #modern au #enemies to lovers #love confessions #feelings realization

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365dailydevotionals · 17 hours ago

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Have you ever heard of the argument concerning the death of a single animal, where if the early peoples were to be wasteful and kill one lion or kangaroo too many than was needed for survival, the implications of that over thousands of years would spell out the death of untold millions down the food chain bc they starved to death from what an ancestor race did one day?

The same rules apply, we can't say just because we didn't eat the first grape we are undeserving of consequences that trickled down to us..

It is a simple cause & effect of the one who came before us, which as it turns out were far superior to us, they still cannot figure out how the many ancient monuments were built. Even eye surgical tools demonstrate how highly advanced they were.

All those other religions are false, to pacify the unthinking masses, whereas the GOD of the Bible tells it like it is bc HE doesn't lie ever.

To be flawed is to be diseased & deserving of death, so those gods are no GOD at all; the unravelling of imperfection is a death sentence

Have you ever spoken to any of them, like grill them how they know their GOD really exists on a personal level? They say they pray & it helps them. But the litmus test is if your god never disagrees with you, HE is either just as stupid as us or a figment of our imagination, wth kind of god is that WHO can't provide you with protection and guidance to lasting peace/joy/love the good things in life?

Any idiot can start a fight, or wage war, but only lasting tranquility & peace is deserving of nobility & honour bc those are elusive at best.

I recently went through a rough patch calling GOD a liar & all the things you are saying, but later realized there is a humbling period, maybe for all of life tbh. But from my other experiences, HE has answered questions in my head before I formulated it & sometimes at the exact moment it comes to mind. It's pretty unreal & totally undeniable, not a one time thing but fairly constant where HE sends me experiences that tie in with what HE was trying to convey to me.

Nothing quite like going through it, rather than just head knowledge that make you sound like hallow styrofoam, sounds scratchy at best.

So you too must deal with HIM on a personal level & ask HIM your questions, and see what HE sends you for answers; it's a different journey for every person. Best of luck to you whatever you choose

giving birth sucks tbh. not only do you and the baby you’re birthing almost die, usually you shit yourself and often you tear your taint. then you have to push an organ out of your body (placenta) and if even a little of that remains in your body, you can hemorrhage to death or develop an infection that essentially rots your body from the inside out. even if you had a relatively “easy birth”, you bleed for weeks on end. even after that stops, your body and brain is changed for the rest of your life, the pregnancy leeched minerals from your bones, that can cause osteoporosis later. minor urinary incontinence is not uncommon, brain scans of people who gave birth show permanent changes in their brain, you’re never quite the same.

I say all of this not to say giving birth is disgusting but it is a harrowing and visceral experience. society downplays how fucking awful it is and makes it out to be a ~magical~ experience but it isn’t a magical transformative experience for everyone. it can be an extremely traumatic experience for someone who wanted to carry a pregnancy to term, much more so for someone who did not want to be pregnant in the first place or someone who knows their baby won’t survive the birth. anyway, abortion is a right. pregnancy and birth aren’t just inconvenient, it’s fucking awful.

#prayer #guidance #mercy #grace of GOD #styrofoam

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voxslays · 24 hours ago

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MY RESOLUTION IS YOU

TLDR >>> What spending the new years with them would be like. Featuring Alastor, Vox, & Lucifer x Reader (separately).

Alastor

Very laid back. I’ve seen others headcannon that Alastor doesn’t really like drinking all too much but will occasionally (which I totally agree with), and he might have a brandy or two before deciding to call it quits for the night. Besides, someone sober has to make sure there is no chaos in Charlie’s hotel! Although he will definitely watch your drink though (even though nobody in the hotel would dare try something like that and especially not while Alastor is around-) He won’t take his eyes off it!

Is a little bit more cuddlier when drunk, and just starts randomly people watching. It’s safe to say he is definitely enjoying everyone embarrassing themselves while drunk. Very entertaining.

Alastor will definitely indulge in the hors d'oeuvres Charlie brought for the party—and might sneak a few of his own dishes into the mix…specifically his mother’s jambalaya.

If Alastor is feeling pleasantly that night and a little tipsy he might give you a little peck on the lips. Nothing that lasts for too long though, since he has ‘business to attend to’.

Lucifer

Is somewhere inbetween the life of the party and just a laid back dad. Don’t get me wrong, Lucifer can totally start chugging shots and partying, but not only does he have a reputation (that he needs to get back because people don’t even respect him anymore-) and Charlie is there.

On another note, he can be such a flirt. Luci just has that devilish charm, what can I say? He will not stop flirting with you. You felt the heat run to your cheeks ten minutes ago, and you don’t know how much more you can take! Good luck, Babe.

I feel like Luci either eats a ton or barely any at all (or goes back and forth between the two-) but Charlie was so kind and ordered hors d'oeuvres for everyone! He can’t disappoint her by not having atleast a small plate! (Which may turn into more…)

At midnight, he would awkwardly ask you for a small peck on the lips, which would then turn into a full on makeout session…which may lead to more in someone’s bedroom. But for now Lucifer is just enjoying the moment with the people he loves; You and Charlie.

Vox

Life of the party. Vox is extremely charming and charismatic—even more so when drunk—so of course people flock to the Vee’s annual New Year’s Eve party to even get the chance to speak a couple words to the overlord.

Also very flirty, but less awkward than Lucifer. The entire night he will have his arms somewhere on you. Whether it’s the small of your back, your shoulder, or just simply holding your hand, he needs to be touching you at all times.

I can totally see him drinking maybe a little more than he should. Vox knows his limits…but does he care? Sure, he knows he will feel like shit in the morning, but that’s his future-self’s problem. He is too caught up in the moment with you to care.

Probably has one or two full plates of hors d'oeuvres and appetizers. What? He’s hungry! And those mini hotdogs look so delicious. If his mouth could water through his screen, it would. Especially at the sight of you in that outfit-

At midnight, he will grab you by your hips and kiss you roughly with his screen. It turns into a full makeout session real fast. And there is no way the two of you don’t lose your clothes and end up in his bed by the end of the night.

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asexualbookbird · 2 days ago

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Ah, I read some books in 2024, huh? And eight rereads? Who am I. Tried a lot of new things this year which yay! Go me! Branching out! Not all of those were successes, but I did it and therefore no one can criticise me. But we all know what's important here. So here you go, THE BEST AND WORST OF 2024 (in no particular order)!

THE BEST BOOKS OF 2024

The Adventure of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty - yes, I am still thinking about this, thank you for asking! A full entire adult of a person, a mother even, going on adventures? Fighting and killing and fucking and living? Hell yeah! More of this, please! I would also love to see a prequel of Amina's adventures before the book timeline. Everything about this was so great, I look forward to rereading it.

The City We Became by NK Jemisin - I was wary about this because it was so polarizing to readers. On one hand, even my least favorite Jemisin was still fun, on the other hand, I know nothing about New York. HOWEVER. The audiobook was FABULOUS. I wholeheartedly believe the audio is why I enjoyed this so much. This was FUN this is what reading should feel like all the time.

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb -FRIEND TO MY SOUL. Again, beautiful audio performance. Beautiful story. I need my own copy so I can reread this to my hearts content. It's cute, it deals with heavy topics, it's gay, it's the friend to my soul.

WORST BOOKS OF 2024

The Novice by Taran Matharu - Ugh. Bought when released, knowing nothing, which seems to be a Theme with books sitting on my shelf I end up not enjoying. Learning about the history of this book made me more angry than the book itself. What do you mean his entire series was bought and published without an editor? It shows, but. Come on. Wattpad born and it shows.

Last Heir to Blackwood Library by Hester Fox- this was only for a summer reading bingo challenge, but come on. There are ways to pull the memory loss, or altered memory plot line and have it work. This did not do that. Wish a library would eat my memories of this book so I never had to think of it again.

Red Sister by Mark Lawrence - Mark Lawrence is one of those authors who writes long books because he thinks it makes him a Good Writer. Mark Lawrence is one of those writers who is afraid to write adult characters because he thinks they won't sell, but continuously puts them in adult situations to show how Hard their lives are and Isn't This Dark And Gritty And Sad without doing the work to actually get there. It toes the line between fantasy in scifi, but not well. It feels more indecisive than anything else.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Firebreak by Nicole Kornher-Stace -more like fireBROKE MY HEART!!!! It was on my tbr list for years, and I finally found a copy and I'm glad I own it so I can reread it at my leisure. It's what Ready Player One could have been if it was actually good.

Godkiller by Hannah Kaner - Okay honestly, this and City were fighting for a spot in the main top three. Either could be there. I do honorable mentions for this very reason. I was surprised to learn this was a tiktok book, because yknow. It's actually Good. Witcher vibes, but with more respect towards women. Why isn't book three in my possession right this second.

Someone You Can Build A Nest In by John Wiswell - I Am Normal About This Book. It was fun to read and annotate it for a friend. It was fun to be around as two friends read it and I loved seeing their reactions to it. Loved cheering on Shesheshen, still think she deserves to eat more people. Friends and I will still share biting goop memes with the caption "Shex3 posting". It's safe to say this has rewritten my brain.

DISHONORABLE MENTIONS

Legacy of Ash by Matthew Ward - I was hyped about this book before release. I bought book two before even reading this because I was that sure I'd enjoy it. What a fool. This did NOT have to be 800 pages. It was another example of someone writing many words because they think that's what Good Writers Do, and not stopping to think about what those words even SAY. Which, in this case, was ~Absolutely Nothing~

Ghost Station by SA Barnes - crying sobbing this book was so fucking stupid. Best thing to come out of it was seeing a friend read it and confirming that yes, it was That Fucking Stupid. Learning the author mainly writes YA Paranormal explained why everyone had Too Stupid To Live disease.

I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons by Peter S Beagle - Admittedly only here to make things even and because it's still pretty fresh in my mind. I was soooo excited when this was announced, and now I'm soooo happy I didn't preorder it. More boring than anything else, but I don't wish it was longer because it already felt Too Long.

Once again, ignored rereads because I feel like that's cheating somehow. Let these be for highlighting new and fun books I discovered! I feel like the last few Bricks I've read have been Very Bad so I hope a couple of the bricks I have planned for 2025 are actually good. Considering one of those is Labyrinth's Heart, I think we're okay.

#bookbird babbles #reading wrap up #yearly wrap up #2024 wrap up #books #booklr #snapshots #PHEW.#long post #i did not like any of storygraphs graphics sorry lmao #also for some reason it didnt count gideon!!!!!!!#i know sg is the Cool Thing to use now but ugh im having so many problems using it #thats not to say im not having problems with goodreads but at least those problems are Familiar #anyway here have my 2024 list of books read #might do an ask game about it

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feathers-fins-and-fangs · 2 days ago

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🌲 - what is your fictotype?

I am Mercutio :D

🪲 - do you miss your home? Or maybe you're happy that you're here?

I do miss Verona somewhat, though I don't exactly really wish to be back. I miss the people more than the place.

🐸 - do you have any sourcemates? If yes, who/what are they?

Unfortunately, no 😭

🌳 - in scale 1-10, how are you similar to your canon?

I say around a 9. I'm pretty much identical to canon except for some minor details.

🌿 - does your fictotype have a different sex/gender identity than your body/you?

Yes, I was a man. Although I sometimes use he/him pronouns now, I don't identify as male and don't present masculinely.

☘️ - what aspect of life does your identity affect the most?

Hmmmm that's hard to answer. I don't know if it counts but it definitely affects me as a person the most. Like, my gender, my sexual orientation, my beliefs, morals, etc.

🪴 - is your fictionkin experience unpleasant or enjoyable for you?

It's generally enjoyable, but there are times it can be unpleasant.

🍃 - what reminds you of your fictotype? (E.g.: a figurine, a doll, a tv series)

The colour purple, as that was my colour motif in source, as well as watching the musical I'm from.

🌄 - on what level is your identity? (E.g. spiritual, psychological, psychical)

I would say spiritual, but I think it's also partially psychological. I can't give much details though, as this is very vague for both my fictotypes.

🐢 - do you experience shifts? Of yes, how do they look like?

Sometimes, but they aren't common. Mainly mental, and sometimes I don't realise I shifted until afterwards and there's probably times I've shifted and I still don't know if it was really a shift or if I'm just trying to convince myself it was a shift. I also get phantom shifts, but they're rarer. I sometimes feel like I have my original hairstyle, and sometimes I feel like there is a hole in me where I was fatally injured (not like any pain or anything. Just a hole). The latter is significantly more upsetting, but luckily it's only happened twice.

🥝 - what is your source?

Roméo et Juliette, les enfants de Vérone

🐛 - how do you feel about fanarts of you and fanfictions?

Unfortunately most of them are shipart of me and Tybalt. And sometimes I come across fanart of me post-death, which is disturbing. I do enjoy other fanart of me, however.

🌵 - do you look exactly like in your source or do you look different? If you do, then what is different?

I look pretty much identical to me in the 2010 revival cast. I'm played by the same actor in the 2015 cast, however it's a different hairstyle and it just feels less 'me'. I guess it's because my source is very specifically the 2010 revival and nothing after that.

🥀 - what do you think about ships with you?

I can tolerate most ships, but the ship of me and Tybalt makes me uncomfortable. Like. He killed me. And we hated eachother for pretty much our entire lives. Just. Why.

🦕 - do you have/had a loved one in your source?

Yes! Benvolio my beloved ^^ ! And Romeo was such a wonderful friend (though I admit him whining about his love life 24/7 did get annoying). In the original play, I have a brother called Valentine, but he doesn't appear in my source and he doesn't exist at all in my canon. I don't really remember anything relating to my parents either, they're kind of a mystery that I haven't tried finding memories of. Especially since I don't have much memories in general, I just have information that feels right. I think I was pretty close to my uncle Prince Escalus when I was younger, though that kind of faded when I got older.

Alex's fictionkin ask game!

(mostly for fictional characters)

🌲 - what is your fictotype?

🪲 - do you miss your home? Or maybe you're happy that you're here?

🐸 - do you have any sourcemates? If yes, who/what are they?

🌳 - in scale 1-10, how are you similar to your canon?

🌿 - does your fictotype have a different sex/gender identity than your body/you?

☘️ - what aspect of life does your identity affect the most?

🪴 - is your fictionkin experience unpleasant or enjoyable for you?

🍃 - what reminds you of your fictotype? (E.g.: a figurine, a doll, a tv series)

🌄 - on what level is your identity? (E.g. spiritual, psychological, psychical)

🐢 - do you experience shifts? Of yes, how do they look like?

🥝 - what is your source?

🐛 - how do you feel about fanarts of you and fanfictions?

🌵 - do you look exactly like in your source or do you look different? If you do, then what is different?

🥀 - what do you think about ships with you?

🦕 - do you have/had a loved one in your source?

♪♪♪

So, yeah, that's all! :D

Reblog this, so the others can ask you questions or answer them all right now, if you want to :>

#💜✨#mercutio fictionkin #fictionkin #alterhuman #ask game #mercutio kin #shakespeare kin #romeo and juliet kin #romeo et juliette kin #retj kin

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soulfullives · 2 days ago

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sirius headcanons for you (no one asked me anything)

is really a great driver besides the fact he gets road rage (he tends to be quite impatient with people who are not as competent as him)

intimidating demeanour and he usually keeps people away from him with it (he does not complain)

completely terrified of children and the idea of being a father but he’s so gentle and kind to them

prefers pubs to clubs

chainsmoker and physically cannot smoke just one cigarette

sleeps in sweatpants and an old band tshirt

gets attached to clothes he loves and wears them till they’re horribly worn out

his favourite shoes are combat boots

has pouty lips

likes reading, but exclusively books he doesn’t have in the curriculum (he likes camus and dostoyevsky as authors and he’s a fan of psychological horror/ psychological stuff and political stuff as a whole and also sci fi (rip sirius black you would have loved george orwell))

his favourite movies are thriller and horror

his biggest fear is disappointing the ones he loves and betrayal

loves all animals and regularly takes in strays until he can find someone to take care of them. if he doesn’t, he just keeps them

has a lot of scars and marks from whatever batshit crazy thing he does. he is constantly with a project on his hands and doing something

dislikes routine and monotony and tries his best to make his days interesting

would have tried polygamy but he gets possessive and jealous and knows it’s not gonna work out (see exception: jilypad)

his strongest point is his loyalty and would willingly give up his life if that meant that someone he loves lives

speaking of which the only people he truly truly loved from the core of his life are james lily and harry

used to sell homework answers for cigarettes when he didn’t have the opportunity to buy some himself

hands in his essays the night before the due date and they’re always way longer than they should be

has protection runes tattooed on his fingers and engraved into his wand and charmed so that his wand can be used only if the runes from his fingers and wand meet so essentially no one else can use his wand

his duelling style is combat and basically attacking rather than defending but he WOULD use defensive magic to protect the ones he loves or members from the order than are weaker than he is (he’s also an aggressive dueller)

he can also fight with his fists and gets into playful wrestling with jpr

the only members of his family he always liked are alphard and andromeda (he never liked regukus k bye)

his favourite alcoholic drinks are whiskey and jack daniel’s

loses his patience really easily with people who are not as efficient as him AND annoy him (see: peter, sometimes) but he’s slightly more patient with people he likes

likes eating greasy shit but his favourite foods are a good caesar salad and a good teriyaki sub (self projection: i need his order to be the same as mine)

never pays attention in class but somehow he’s always top of the class (he only pays attention in dada transfig runes and arithmancy)

is either completely unaware or completely aware of the fact that people are into him and he Does Not care. sometimes snogs people at parties but nothing more than that

night owl and also an insomniac

#i probably am repeating myself however idc #sirius black #sirius black headcanons

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psychoticallykind · 3 days ago

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Share with me?

This was my first attempt at writing for day 20 (Baking) of Jegumas, but the story got away from me so I ended up doing something different. However, I actually really like it so I finished it today and thought I would share.

@noblehouseofgay because I think you'll like it.

2,209 words

Trigger Warning: Dysphoria, Dysphoric thoughts

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

Regulus forced himself to take a deep breath. “It’s fine,” he insisted to the empty bathroom. “I’m fine. It was a dumb comment. It doesn’t mean anything.”

His reflection blinked back tears, long black lashes and flushed skin. But not crying. Not quite, not over this. It wasn’t worth it. He was better than that.

“I don’t care.” Regulus took another deep breath. “I don’t. It doesn’t matter what they think. I don’t care, I’m fine, it’s fine.”

There was a light knock on the door, and panic spiked through his chest. “It’s occupied.”

“I know, love. Are you okay in there?”

Oh. Right.

Of course, James had found him.

Regulus swallowed, trying to sound as steady as possible. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” James replied. “I was just checking, you’ve been missing for a while.”

The gentle tone threatened to undo all of his hard work - suppress, deny, refuse to feel it. Refuse to react.

James was making it very hard to not feel anything.

“I just said I’m fine,” Regulus snapped, and immediately regretted it. He softened his tone. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

One deep breath. Two.

“That’s okay, love. Take your time, I’m okay to wait.”

Take your time.

Regulus pressed his hands over his eyes. He was not going to cry. Not here, not at some stupid office party. He would not. It was simply not an option, no matter how irritatingly compassionate James sounded right now.

He could get through this. He would smile and talk and be what he needed to be. That was fine. He could do that.

One deep breath. Two. Three.

Four and five, for good measure.

Regulus checked his reflection. He looked - well, he still looked a little upset. But no one would be able to tell unless they knew him and were looking for it, which these people didn’t and wouldn’t.

James was standing against the opposite wall when Regulus opened the door. Dark curls and an emerald green that looked nice on his skin tone. Nothing compared to a deep red, but he’d wanted to match with Regulus tonight.

“Hey,” James greeted him, and Regulus was not going to cry.

“I’m not crying,” he informed his boyfriend.

James nodded, giving Regulus a gentle smile. “I see that.”

And Regulus thought he probably did. James always saw him better than he was supposed to - saw past glares and smiles and posture. Pandora had suggested he was an empath, and Regulus had been slightly inclined to agree.

“I just need to get through the next two hours,” Regulus said, locking everything inside of him into place. “And then we can go home.”

“We don’t need to stay if you don’t want to,” James said softly. Not implying, but not moving from his spot, either.

He was letting Regulus choose.

Regulus hesitated. “Are you sure? Won’t - don’t you have to stay? You own - it’s your company.”

“No one has to stay,” James denied, shaking his head. “It’s a party, Regulus, not a board meeting. Some people only came by for a few minutes. Some won’t come at all. We can leave whenever we want.”

Regulus took another deep breath to avoid feeling things.

James stepped forward, gently taking his hand. “What do you want to do?”

Well, he’d lasted a solid three minutes. Maybe.

“I want to go home,” Regulus admitted, squeezing James’s hand. “Please.”

“Do you want to go through the party to get our jackets or do you want to go the back way and sneak out?”

Regulus could look presentable in front of everyone. He could walk through the crowd and pretend to be okay.

But - well, he didn’t actually have to. Not with James. “I don’t want to go through the party.”

“Sounds great.” James pulled him into a tight hug, kissing the top of his head before letting go.

Regulus couldn’t really help smiling as they separated, following James down the abandoned hallways until they reached the front.

James waved goodbye to the person manning the desk, and then they were outside. Regulus took another deep breath, letting the frigid air clear his head a little more.

James opened his door for him, and Regulus couldn’t help smiling as he got in the car.

Then they started driving, and James was humming along to the music, and it was all so safe.

It was safe, he was safe, and then he was crying, one hand pressed against his mouth and his expression turned to the window so that James wouldn’t see.

“Regulus?”

Regulus bit down hard on his lip.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Will you look at me?”

He shook his head, which was probably dumb. It wasn’t like he’d succeeded - James knew he was upset now.

“Alright, love. Can I pull over? What can I do?”

“Ignore it,” Regulus managed. He closed his eyes. “Ignore me. Don’t act like - just ignore me.”

He knew James would be making that face - the one that meant he hated listening but would do it anyway. He knew it, but didn’t let himself look.

James hated it when Regulus didn’t let him help. Absolutely despised it. But sometimes Regulus couldn’t let him help. He couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t stand letting anyone see him when he was falling apart.

“For how long?”

Forever, Regulus wanted to say. Let me deal with it on my own. Let me drown in it.

But that would be cruel, and he didn’t want to do that to James. So he settled. “Until we get home.”

Then, as an afterthought, “No speeding.”

The quiet grumble that earned him almost made him smile.

It took twenty minutes for them to get home. Twenty minutes for Regulus to be self-destructive - to say to himself all of the things he’d heard before.

It’s your own fault you feel this way.

You know you deserve it.

That’s why you won’t let him help.

If you don’t want to be a girl, you shouldn’t act like one.

You can’t keep crying over something so stupid.

Now he wants to help.

You made him leave the party.

You ruined his night.

You ruin everything, don’t you?

You’re never quite right. Always a little messed up.

Always a bother, a nuisance.

Always upset over something.

“We’re home.”

The words jolted Regulus out of his head for a second, and then James was out of the car. Seconds later, Regulus’s door was open.

James unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward to pick him up, holding him close to his chest. “I love you, and we’re home, so I’m allowed to tell you that now.”

And it felt so wrong. So wrong and jarring, because he didn’t deserve that. He was wrong, ruined, he was messed up, he messed everything up.

“I love you, you’re perfect.” James managed to close the car door and started walking, pressing a kiss to Regulus’s temple. “You make my life better just by being in it. My incredible boyfriend.”

Regulus flinched, hiding his expression against James’s chest. “I’m not.”

“Not what?” James asked, carrying him inside. “Not incredible? You’re definitely incredible. So smart and talented.”

Regulus shook his head, the words falling between them. “Not a real boy.”

James’s arms tightened around him for a moment, and then he set Regulus on the counter. “You’re wrong.”

Regulus looked down, his breath catching for a second. “I know.”

Wrong, wrong, all wrong.

“Not like that.” James tapped on his chin, gently urging him to look back up. “You’re perfect. The perfect boy, my perfect boyfriend. So handsome and clever and strong.”

Regulus shook his head. “I baked brownies.”

“I know.” James gently wiped at his cheeks, removing tears. “They were amazing, everyone loved them.”

“No, James,” Regulus insisted, stressing the words. “I baked brownies.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Like a girl.”

“Oh, love.” James tugged him forward, wrapping him up. “Baking doesn’t make you less of a boy. Nothing can, it’s impossible. You could bake brownies in a pink dress and heels wearing a full face of makeup, and you would still be a boy. Nothing can change that.”

Regulus sobbed quietly, shaking his head.

“One day,” James told him. “I’m going to marry you, and you’ll be my husband. And I’ll be the second-happiest guy in the world, because you’ll have to be the happiest. I won’t be able to live with myself otherwise.”

Regulus sucked in a sharp breath. “What?”

“You heard me.” James massaged the back of his head. “No one will be surprised, really. I talk about you all the time - my incredible boyfriend. I have like seven pictures of you on my desk - you know that, though, you’ve seen them.”

Regulus’s breath stuttered, and he held James tighter. “You can’t marry me.”

“Well, not if you don’t say yes,” James replied. “Which would be okay. There’s no obligation, you know, and we can talk about it beforehand. But I would love to, one day. If you’re okay with that.”

Regulus’s voice was small. “What if I’m not?”

“Then we won’t get married.” James ran a hand down his back with a quiet hum. “And we can be happy as we are. I love you regardless, Regulus.”

Dark thoughts tumbled around in his head, but he couldn't voice them. It would invalidate James, he couldn’t do that.

“What are you thinking?” James murmured.

“Bad things,” Regulus admitted.

“Share with me?”

“They’re bad,” he repeated. “You won’t like it.”

“Probably not,” James said agreeably. “But I love you, and I want to know.”

It took a few minutes. A few minutes of back-and-forth, debating with himself. Honesty wasn’t easy or kind, and Regulus wasn’t generally a fan of it.

But James was. He really was - Regulus had never met a more honest person in his life.

“I’m thinking that you love me regardless because you love everyone.”

The words were small. They stung, because it was true. James wasn’t gay - he was pansexual. He loved Regulus.

Regardless of whether he was a real boy or not.

He felt James’s breath catch. “Oh.”

Regulus winced. Maybe honesty had been the wrong choice.

“Okay. I - I need to look at you, love, sorry.” James urged him back, separating them so that he could meet Regulus’s eyes. “You’re right about me. I can love anyone, and I’m not denying that.”

Oh, that hurt, too. Regulus held his breath, eyes darting away from James and to the microwave instead.

“Uh-uh, look at me.”

Regulus bit his lip as he followed the instruction. His lungs were starting to burn.

“Do you remember when we met?” James asked. His hands moved to Regulus’s shoulders, massaging.

Regulus nodded, not trusting his voice just now.

“I didn’t know you were trans,” James pointed out, earnest. “I didn’t know when we met. I didn’t know when we started dating. I fell in love with you before I knew, Reg, you know that.” He traced along Regulus’s collarbone. “Breathe, Regulus.”

His whole body relaxed a bit as he listened, taking in a few deep breaths.

“I have always known you as a boy,” James reminded him quietly. “And I’ve never seen you as anything else.”

Regulus swallowed hard. “Promise?”

“I promise.” James traced his cheekbones, gently swiping over the skin. “Believe me?”

He took a deep breath. “I believe you.”

“Perfect.” James kissed his forehead. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“It’s dumb,” Regulus mumbled, cheeks heating. “It was dumb.”

“Dumb or not, I need to know if I need to fire someone,” James replied.

“Don’t.” Regulus shook his head. “He didn’t know.”

James frowned a little. “Who?”

Regulus shrugged. “I don’t know. He had a bright green tie, looked terrible.”

“Oh, Timothy.” James’s frown grew. “What did he say?”

“He was eating a brownie,” Regulus explained. His voice faltered, but James was rubbing his shoulders again, and it helped. “And he said that when food tastes that good, you can tell a woman did the baking.”

It was a dumb comment. It wasn't targeted, or mean, or purposefully triggering.

But it so closely echoed the things Regulus had heard - had been forced to learn, to internalize. It was so close, and it had torn Regulus apart.

“That’s ridiculous,” James denied, adamant. “I’ll speak to him on Monday.”

“No, James -”

“I will, and I won’t bring up your name, but he needs to know he hurt someone with his thoughtless comments and he will know it,” James interrupted. “Okay?”

He could say no. Regulus knew that - he could say no, could ask James to drop it, and James would listen. He might not like it, but he’d listen.

But he kind of liked that James cared so much. He liked knowing James would defend him.

So Regulus nodded, pulling James forward into a brief kiss. It tasted like champagne and chocolate from earlier, and he was sure James could taste salt from all the crying. And then, when they separated, he whispered the word into James’s parted lips. “Okay.”

Three days later, Regulus received a handwritten apology letter and an apology basket from Timothy. It was addressed to ‘the guy who made the fantastic brownies’.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #regulus black #james potter #25daysofjegumas #just late and extra

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amphitriteswife · 3 days ago

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Lady

Pairing: Emperor Geta x foreigner! reader

Warnings: use of drugs mentions. Reader is considered ‘exotic’. Reader is brown skinned

Summary: Geta has a special guest.

Note: Geta love me pls😔

Emperor Geta. The young Emperor of Rome, he had a fine taste for wine and women. Often giving lavish parties, although it was more on insistence of the other Emperor, Caracalla. The party was quite…erotic to say the least. There were drugs, per request of emperor Caracalla many of the elites were present including Macrinus and general Acacius. This time without his wife Lucilla, she would rather bot attend such parties which was understandable. Acacius normally wouldn’t either, but the emperors insisted. One cannot just refuse them emperors of Rome can they not? Ofcourse, there were also concubines. Both men and women surrounding the emperors. It was no surprise that they had their own fair share of activities. However, this time Geta hadn’t touched the concubines at all and reserved himself to talk to the people present. Nothing too fancy, just some jokes and matters. Geta held a goblet filled with white wine in his hand. Caracalla found it rather odd that his brother wasn’t there with him indulging himself with the many amusing things present at the party.

Acacius and Macrinus also noticed Geta’s odd behavior but thought it wasn’t bad. Perhaps he has matured and is finally going to rule like an emperor instead of a spoiled child with power. Geta wrapped up his conversation with the person he was speaking to, only to be met with Caracalla. His eyes were red and he was stumbling. Stoned. Geta sighed and placed his goblet on the table, helping his brother stay as normal as possible and guiding him to the throne. Geta sat down with him on the throne. He wanted to speak more with the others, but he can’t leave his brother alone in this state. The concubines touched his arms and chest. He wasn’t keen on them anymore. But he didn’t refuse either, a hand playing with the necklace around his neck, another one tracing his chest through his chiton. He seemed to ignore them for now as he didn’t respond to their touches. This caused Caracalla to lean towards Geta’s ear, in reponse Geta leaned towards his brother. The two of them whispering while the party was still in full swing

‘Brother. You’re neglected the concubines.’

‘I am doing no such thing. I am simply not in the mood for that today.’

‘Are you now? You seemed so exited for the party. Here take some.’

Geta held up his hand, refusing to take a snort of the drugs from the rhino horn. He isn’t a fan of doing drugs himself in front of people, especially not now. Caracalla shrugged and leaned back in his seat, geta shot him a glance. Still loosing up with red eyes. His brother never learns does he? He’s not neglecting the concubines….this party is supposed to be about someone and he can’t mess up. He has to be on his best behavior…after all you might show up any moment. He couldn’t help but feel his heart beat pick up a pace. He’s exited, very exited to let the people see you. A smile krept upon his face when he heard someone, presumably one of the praetorians, whisper that there was a woman entering the palace. Geta retained himself from showing that he was excited for your arrival and sat up straight in his throne. His eyes darting over the many faces, some familiar, some not. Until his gaze finally landed on you.

‘Y/N L/N. Sister of the Indian emperor. Greetings to the emperors of Rome.’

Geta rose from his seat and marched over to you. Extending out his hand toward you, many guests looked at the both of you. India? Didn’t the emperor want to conquer it together with Persia?! Some guests started whispering about if this was planned or just a coincidence. Did the emperor want to have an Indian bride? Was he in love with her? Perhaps just to get close to India and conquer it via foul play? Or was he going to take over India trough you and your political power? Did the emperor even have it in him to actually do something like that? You took the emperor’s hand and kissed the top of it, his hand felt heavy in yours because of all the gold and jewels. When you pulled back Geta grabbed your hand and too, placed a kiss on it. The guests were floored. The emperor never as much lowers his head to someone. Why would he kiss your hand?? Geta remained with his gaze on yours, the both of you seemed to smirk to each other…from the gleam in both your eyes the others could tell that there is something more…but they don’t know you yet. Everything is unclear especially since you’re a foreigner who might be the potential empress. Geta stood up straight again and grabbed his goblet that was filled with wine by one of his servants, grabbing you one as well and handing it to you.

‘For you my lady, I hope the wine will suit your taste.’

Geta smiled at you and took a sip of his wine, waiting for you to do that too. Yet you never did, you kept talking but you never one tasted the wine. Perhaps you’re not the biggest fan on wine? Oh well, he’ll ignore it for now, you are a guest after all. His hand lingered a little on your form a little too much. His eyes darting to his brother for a split moment and then back to you. The two of you already had a whole plan with each other that was about to unfold. Geta pressed the goblet against his lips and flickered his gaze to the crowd who seemed intrigued in the ordeal but still talked to one another to not make it seem that way. After a long savory sip Geta chuckled at you slightly.

‘Enjoy your stay.’

‘Thank you Emperor.’

With a satisfying smile Geta walked back and sat on the throne. His brother giggling like a little kid at the between the encounter of you and his brother. Geta spared him a glance and leaned back in his seat. His hand reaching out for the concubines’ arm instead. Placing it on his chest as a sign for them to touch him. How would you feel if you knew that the Emperor of Rome is having his concubines touch him in front of you? He needs to know. The concubines giggled slightly and caress him, his eyes still however following you. It was pretty oblivious, very obvious. Even Caracalla noticed it and leaned towards his brother. He seemed more down to earth. Perhaps the drugs wore off a little. Although the alcohol made up for it. He’s probably drunk. Yes, he definitely is. Geta can smell the heavy yet fruity scent of the wine. His eyes were still on you, not sparing him a glance. Geta let out a huff and raised a hand to the concubines signaling them to stop. Caracalla snickered.

‘Brother, do you wish to say something?’

‘Well…aren’t you intrigued? Never knew you were into Indian women…they do have long thick hair and brown skin…they can have…very oily skin too…’

‘Brother, watch yourself. Her race does not have anything to do with the matter…and don’t make it erotic’

‘Does it? Well i can say for certain that it does. Whether it’s because of political views….or just because you want…excitement.’

‘Treat her with respect brother, currently she is the one who is the comes the closest to us in terms of status in this room.’

‘Oh who cares about that brother Geta?’

‘I do brother. And please, she is a very valuable guest, both in mind, body, soul and spirit…a strong woman indeed’

A low chuckled escaped the younger twin’s lips. His eyes darting from you, who was talking with general Acacius, to Geta, who seemed to stare at you quite intensely. Caracalla followed his brother’s gaze. You indeed looked exotic…well he can perhaps see what his brother sees. Caracalla once again turned his attention to Geta, who stayed silent. He ignored him which caused Caracalla to frown before changing back to his childish self when the concubines touched him. He stood up from his throne, his gaze meeting yours before making his way over to you. General Acacius, who was talking to you, cut his conversation short and instead stepped back for the emperor to speak to you.

‘Hello…Y/N? Am i correct?’

‘You are Emperor.’

‘I had heard…and seen…that you are familiar with my brother, emperor Geta’

‘I am, Emperor’

‘Quite short answered are we?’

‘I apologize. Emperor’

‘It’s okay…a lady who is a beauty can be forgiven for almost anything…Am I right?’

Caracalla turned turned crowd, they seemed hesitant. A rather uncomfortable yet tense atmosphere fell into the room…that was until Macrinus agreed with him, only then did the reaction flood after one another likes dominoes. Caracalla seamed pleased with the answer and reactions from the crowd, although they didn’t sound too sure of it.

‘My brother says that you’re strong, can I take his word for it? He tends to be a liar most of the time.’

Your eyes flickered towards Geta who wanted to make his way over you too, only to stop mid way when he heard his brother’s words. He seemed rather shocked. Usually something like this would bring humiliation, embarrassment perhaps flustering to the mind and heart. Yet he looks more…hurt? Well it’s not surprising to feel that way when your own brother accused you of being a lair. Geta swallowed, not because it was true, but because he now sees that his brother doesn’t trust his enough. The scene is rather pathetic. But you’re here for one purpose. Geta. If he married you he has access to India, one of the many lands he wants to conquer. And if you marry him you’ll be empress of Rome. It’s a win win.

‘So you think emperor Geta lies…interesting. But to answer your question, emperor Caracalla, I am strong although i say so myself’

‘Military wise? Or perhaps politically wise? Maybe…physical…wise?’

The last few words were said in a rather slower and seductive tone. His eye’s flickering over your body. It didn’t go unnoticed but you ignored it. He did have a point, you were strong physically. But you would prefer to be recognized for fighting, not how long you last in bed. What a foolish question. It’s embarrassing honestly. You’re not just some concubine. You’re the sister of an emperor. You would’ve never thought such a title would be disrespected by another emperor himself. He should know better, should he not? But then again he might not be the brightest. Emperor Geta isn’t a liar, in fact you can probably assume that most of the people here would turn their backs on Caracalla in a second or they weren’t even on his side to begin with. Yet he questions the one who’s the most loyal and has his back, his brother Geta

‘That’s enough.’

‘Is it brother? Come on my lady…show me your might, who knows? Perhaps you can break the bed!’

Geta clicked his tongue at his brother’s words and stood next to him. His brows furrowed and a little scowl on his face. He didn’t like where this was going. Not at all. This party was supposed to be for you, about you coming here from India. About perhaps having a first meeting with the generals and important people. Not have his brother try to humiliate you. Geta’s eyes narrowed at his brother when he grabbed one of the concubines.

‘You can join us if you like, mighty lady…can’t she brother?’

‘I-’

‘Why would i lay with you emperor? I’m already supposed to marry Emperor Geta. I’m not a fan of being with others. Especially not at such a crucial moment.’

A deafening silence filled the room. Caracalla stammered a little, unsure of what to make of the new information. The concubines all looked at Geta who left out this vital information. Well…it was an agreement to not mention it…at least not now. But figuring from your personality other wad to get back at his brother. Which he can’t really blame you for it either…general Acacius darted his eyes between the two of you. He wondered what Lucilla would think of this. Ignoring the akward silence you wrapped your arm around Geta’s.

‘Looks like i’ll be staying in your room tonight, Emperor.’

#gladiator #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator ll #emperor geta #emperor geta x reader #geta x reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x female reader #emperor caracalla #general acacius #gladiator 2 fanfiction #gladitor x reader

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opiopal · 1 day ago

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thinkin abt mammon being like, rly strong..

cause like, listen, Ik with like, dia or beel or s8n, yeah, clearly they could lift you up with EASE. No problem no questions ASKED.

but something about imagining mams just scooping up mc no problem makes me giggle and blush and kick my feet

cause imagine somethings going on and his first instinct is to just SCOOP mc and run. or him and mc are in the kitchen and mc can’t reach a shelf, and instead of his just grabbing it for them he lifts them by the waist as if they weighed absolutely NOTHING and raises them high enough to grab what they were reaching for. Or they’re both just hanging around and he lifts them to sit on his lap to cuddle. like dude, I can’t get over it, and it’s a little more blushy for me cause like, ofc I base a little bit of my Mc off of myself, and I’m on the chubbier side(as is my Mc) so it’s like “omg you can pick me up?!*bluesh*•3-“ (I am cringe but I am free, cringe culture died with Lilith)

but carrying on, like, I think it would be funny if he just picked mc up without thinking sometimes. Like if there’s a late night situation and he has to go check it out- but he doesn’t want to leave his warm cozy sleepy partner behind- so he just scoops and suddenly mc is groggily waking up with their head on mammons shoulder while all the brothers are looking at a fallen chandelier or something, and they’re just like “?????” Like half the time he picks them up either without fully processing it, or because he’s like “oh well [problem] can easily just be solved if I hold my partner above the ground”

also I like to imaging mc and mams dancing together, and just because he’s a dorky romantic he ends up scooping them up to kiss them instead of dipping them down, like it causes heads to turn and stuff but he doesn’t really care, he loves Mc so much and he thinks people should absolutely admire them and be dazzled by them exactly like how he is✨

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me mc x mammon #obey me mammon x mc #your honor we’re in love #Literally he’s just THE boyfriend EVER.#obey me one master to rule them all #obey me brothers #i lobe him……#Also I think it’s funny to imagine him a little scrawny

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jakedustry · 3 days ago

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𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 - 𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

neighbor!riki x fem!reader

in which You plan to spend the New Year's Eve alone. With your parents out of town, and your friends either at parties you weren't invited to or in the comfort of their home with the people they love, there is no one who could accompany you, that is at least, until you hear the loud knock on your door. Now, with your just-as-lonely neighbor in your apartment, you look forward to what the next year is going to bring your way.

wc 1k

warnings Riki is not a fan of The Notebook

↪ izzy adds... this collab was so fun ahhh!! Honestly, Riki's fic might be my favorite one I did for this collab. There's something I just love about a silly fluff without any angst

event m.list

The movie playing on your TV is loud enough so you wouldn’t hear the laughs of your neighbor’s friends from upstairs. Yet, you still catch their voices from time to time, and it makes you feel even worse about yourself.

You never thought you’d be spending the last day of the year alone, in your worn-out pajamas, with leftovers from the previous day and The Notebook. It’s as sad as it looks, honestly.

You sigh, placing down the plate with the rest of your food and grabbing your phone. The new notifications are mostly from your old snapchat—that you still keep only to see what some of the people you haven’t talked to in a long time are up to. But today it’s not just pictures of their pets or shows they are watching. It’s full of pictures and videos from the parties they’re all attending. You quickly tap through all the videos Heeseung sent you, trying your best not to mind not being there with them.

You knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault that you were sitting alone in your apartment right now. Your plans for this New Year’s Eve were to relax with your family after not seeing them for so long due to school, but those changed the moment you called your mom, and found out they weren’t home for the end of the year. It was too late to talk to any of your friends to see if they could hang out with you, so you ended up with no one but yourself.

That’s what you thought, but the loud knock on your door leads you astray. You frown, pushing off your cozy blanket and getting up, not bothering with pausing your movie as you’ve seen it many times before.

“Hi, sorry, do you think you could quiet down…a bit,” he slowly closes his mouth when he notices you, standing there in front of him in your pyjamas and messed up hair. He closes his eyes in regret when he realizes you’re not the one disturbing his peace, exhaling awkwardly. “You mean the noise coming from upstairs? I don’t think I can promise you that,” you chuckle when you notice his expression. “Sorry,” he mumbles, the embarrassment in his voice obvious.

“It’s alright,” you shake your head. “You’re Nishimura? From apartment 304?” You guess, and he nods. Your neighbor who hasn’t even come to introduce himself since he moved in. Ah, you see. You extend your hand towards him, introducing yourself. “Nice to meet you,” you grin, and he shakes your hand. “Are you home alone?” You ask, taking a second to realize how creepy you sound. He doesn’t seem to mind though as he nods to you. “Want to come in?” You surprise yourself with your offer, honestly, but it simply feels right.

“The Notebook?” The boy frowns, looking back at you after his eyes land on your TV. “It’s classic,” you shrug. “I’d love to know what you watch, Nishimura,” you roll your eyes when he scoffs. “I’d much rather watch the Transformers or something,” he proclaims, taking a seat on your couch after you encourage him to. “And call me Riki. We are almost the same age, aren’t we?” He looks you up and down as if it was supposed to prove his point somehow. You’re not sure if you should take it as a compliment or an insult.

“The Transformers aren’t bad, but it has nothing on The Notebook,” you stand by your point, sitting beside him. “But I’m willing to compromise and choose a different movie to watch.”

“Sounds like you don’t think The Notebook is all that great, either,” he chuckles, watching you pull a blanket over yourself. You offer him one too, but he shakes his head. He feels bad enough for hanging out in your living room, he wouldn’t steal your blanket on top of that.

He’s unsure why he is in your apartment, acting as if you were friends for years and arguing about what movies are better was on your daily basis. He couldn’t say he would mind, though. It was better than being alone in his room and listening to his loud neighbours.

“I’m going to kick you out,” you warn him, making him laugh. “Okay, okay, I won’t say anything bad about The Notebook again.”

As the hours pass by, and you spend your time getting to know the boy next to you, you regret not doing so sooner. You would lie if you said you weren’t having fun with him. Even though his opinions on movies were terrible, he made up for it by making you laugh and actually listening when you talked about something. The fact he was quite cute might have added some bonus points, too.

“5 more minutes before midnight,” Riki mumbles, placing his phone down again. “Feels weird not spending it with my best friend for the first time.” You nod, your eyes wandering all over his face as you try to remember every bit of him. “How come?” You ask, the movie on your TV long forgotten. You had agreed on Men In Black after a long debate. Mostly his choice. “He is with his girlfriend,” he explains, turning towards you to get more comfortable as he speaks to you. It wasn’t like he was watching the movie anyway. “They said I could join them, but I didn’t want to be a third wheel.”

“I get that,” you nod, following his movement and turning too so you would face him. “Well, I guess there is something good that comes out of it, after all.” You raise your eyebrows in confusion, and Riki’s eyes soften at how pure you look. “I’ve got to spend the time with you,” he clarifies.

“I’m glad I came here to tell you to quiet down,” he mumbles, his voice so low you almost don’t catch it.

“I’m also glad you are deaf enough not to recognize where the noise was coming from,” you smile, watching his eyes as you bite the inside of your cheek. Your fingers brush lightly against his, and you don’t think the moment could get better.

You stay still for the next few seconds, snapping out of your thoughts only when the soft “Happy New Year,” leaves his lips.

✧˖°. izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @nxzz-skz @bamgeutsz @hmusunoo ✧˖°. want to get notified? join taglist here!

#enhypen #✧˖°. jakedustry ✧˖°.#enha #jakedustry #✧˖°. enha industry ✧˖°.#enhypen riki #riki #nishimura riki #ni-ki #enhypen ni-ki #nishimura riki fluff #nishimura #riki nishimura #riki nishimura x reader #x reader #nishimura riki x reader #fluff #✧˖°. izzy's event ✧˖°.

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yourlocalsmutwriter · 1 day ago

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This year, I want to be a wetter, I mean better person - Mark Webber x reader

cws: age gaps (reader is in her 20s, Mark is in his 40s), perv! Mark, semi-public, squirting, dirty talk, author loves dilfs and hopes that one day dilfs will love her too

Whichever spirit possessed your parents to decide to move to the middle of nowhere, England was a hidden blessing. It may not have seemed that way when you had to endure their company for the 4 hour drive from the airport or when you knew that there was no one fuckable for miles. Not that you could get down and dirty under a family roof, whether it was somebody else's or your own. Nothing more haunting than staring down at the lone poster of Fernando Alonso from his Renaut era on your hideously painted walls while cumming. Or, more accurately faking an orgasm. So you spent a nice, festive Christmas Eve and Christmas in your new family home. Catalogued everything that went wrong in your life to land you in this position from the 26th onwards. Actually explored the town and found that at least 1 bar (as if it would have more than that not on the main street) was open on New Years.

Your parents were not party people. By 8, they had tucked in on the couch and were yawning through a holiday concert of some Dutch guy. You shimmied into the one presentable dress they had seemed to pack from your childhood home. "Conveniently," your cute clothes were in storage, and the owner was somewhere in Dubai at the moment. So you have to make do with this black piece. It's not your first choice. But at least the fact that you had grown some tits since being 18 a few years ago was comforting. You pass your parents by with a promise to not be long now. Being met with a sleepy "Don't worry, sweetheart." you know that they're going to sleep through the fireworks anyway.

To nobody's surprise, the bar isn't crowded. The raging bull is in a pathetic state. Some top 40 hits radio station is playing. The floor is sticky. The bartender looks like he's your parents' age, and it doesn't seem like he knows just what goes into your favorite Long Island iced tea. You sit down and ask him to keep pouring you rum and cokes until either he runs out or your wallet is empty. You sip his very boozy concoction slowly, as you're texting your friends. Complimenting their party fits. Asking details about potential hookups. Looking at pictures of their pets in ugly sweaters. As midnight draws near, someone else actually gets inside the bar. You look up and see a pair of green eyes and holy shit, it's a holiday miracle. It's Mark Webber. 9 time GP winner. Manager of your current favorite driver on the grid. Ultimate celebrity crush, Mark Webber. With the grace of a newborn giraffe, you slide out of your chair. You don't want him to see you, but at the same time, you need it to survive. There goes your cover of not knowing who he is. Now, the bar name makes sense. It all aligns like a jigsaw puzzle. The car themed coasters. The signed cocktail napkin framed on the wall. The only “fancy” drink on the menu being named the Aussie grit.

After you not so subtly go to the bathroom to reapply your lipstick and try to work wonders with a mascara wand, you go back to your place at the bar. Only Mark is next to you, bendy black straw into his namesake cocktail.

"Look, I don't know how much they paid you to tail me here, but I can double it." he says, and you're confused.

"You're some kind of journalist or something.” You shake your head, still too stunned that he's here, talking to you.

“Don't tell me you're just some big city girl whose boyfriend brought her to meet the parents, and now you're single because you found him groping his cousin. Because, believe me, that romcom's more of a staple than you think." He continues.

"Wow, how bad is this town that a young woman in a bar on NYE is news. My parents moved here in April. I'm visiting them for the first time. And so far, I haven't encountered any guys, much less the ones that think the best part of waking up is Folgers in their cup." You explain.

"Are your folks the couple who hate each other but are always bragging about their daughter's graduation in March?" Mark guesses, and you are once again stunned by just much this small town gets to people. Not only does a man that's starred into many of your wet dreams know your parents. No, that's not enough, he also knows they're not the perfect relationship role models. You can't help but wonder if it's hereditary and also the reason you haven't brought home a partner. Pushing that to the side, you reply to him with

"Just the ones.”

"You know your dad thinks we're best friends, and your mom keeps asking if I can hire you at Porsche or McLaren." He says and suddenly all the facetimes with your parents come back to you. The man with a very nice house who they invite over for tea sometimes. The one that's been a little under the weather lately. The one who drives a sports car to the center.

"You're motorsport Mark? Of course you are. Be grateful that you don't have any kids my age because I'd practically be your daughter in law too." You speak before you think, momentarily forgetting about the man's wife and kid. Then you wonder why he's out here with you and not back at home. You're inching to ask, but there is no way to say “are you divorced, and if yes, can I ride you into next year, please?"”. Especially after he hits you with a reminder of why that's a bad idea.

"You should be happy that your parents are proud of you, sweetheart. And that they want you to stick around with them here." He says.

"If I was, wouldn't I be about to watch the fireworks with them?" You ask.

"Still some time until that, isn't it? Wanna make it count?" He replies to your question with a question.

You agree, and there's two more Aussie Grits on the bar. The bar tender also places two laminated sheets of paper and two markers in front of you. The comic sans text on top says "New Years Resolutions" and the neat little lines give you 5 rows to write in.

"Sick of hearing us talk, aren't you?" Mark asks the other man, and the latter just grunts.

"Bet I can write mine before you finish your drink." The former driver says, clearly still a speed fiend. You shake on it, and you start chugging the strong drink. Meanwhile, he's adding chicken scratch sentences to the A4.

He beats you, and to his credit, all his resolutions are thought out and personal. You're happy to see that he's put "do more for Oscar" in there and giggle at the "post more on Instagram?". While you're still reading, he's busy gloating, making fun of you for not learning the most important thing in college - how to hold your liquor.

"What, like you could do any better. Mark, I'm surprised you're standing after the drinks you already had. I bet that I'll have to see you get locked in here till the morning for your own sake." You say, both posing a challenge and remembering the "beauty" of some more traditional British pubs. You hope that the one booth you see is at least comfortable. He doesn't back down, and you're on the clock, writing down what you want to accomplish in 2025. But your brain is buzzing from the drinks, from the way liquid is dripping down Mark's chin and onto his pants, by the fact that you're a horny drunk and the unavailable dilf next to you is too delicious to pass on. You lose, unsurprisingly. Handing over the list, you absent mindedly say

"You know I wouldn't mind your help with the last one, I'm sure you can make it happen, wink wink, nudge nudge.". You're referring to the item "attend my first grand prix," a dream of yours since getting into the sport. But apparently, in the rush, you had added a more nsfw goal under it. Because the item on your list that ended it prematurely was, in fact, "squirt for the first time.".

"You wanna double-check your work before saying things, sweetheart. " he asks, and you're mortified when you do. You start apologizing and gathering your things to leave. Mark places a strong hand on your bare thigh to stop you.

"I never said I wasn't going to do it. I'd be glad to. I'm just making sure that here and now is the place you want to bring this up." He says. Your jaw drops, and you're like a fish out of water.

"Aren't you married?" You ask. It's not the first that you thought would come out of your mouth. Yet, you have to hear him say it.

"Divorced. Technically, in the process of, but no ring. Empty house, and a cold bed. Only my left hand for relief." He says and you're picturing Mark pumping his cock in his fist. You cross your legs and clench your thighs slightly, which doesn't go unnoticed by the older man. He moves his hand and spreads them.

"And you, sweetheart? Do you have some secret boy toy to make your switch into adulthood more fun? Or a nice pretty girl like yourself that you've been shaking up with since your dorm days?" He asks.

"No. Same as you, but I use my right hand. My clit's too sensitive if I switch up my technique." You say, hellbent on making that man go crazy for you.

Mark looks around and tips a crisp 50-pound note from his wallet. You can't help but notice the little blue wrapper peeking out of the Italian leather. He calls over the bartender and asks for "2 coffees when we come back." You think the Aussie's going to take you to his car. Have you ruin his custom leather seats and make you lick up your mess as punishment? You guess he might even take you to his house, not that you have any idea where it is exactly. Ask you to hold on tight as the headboard to his once marital bed slams against the wall. Makes sure your sensitive little clit humps against the pillow as he's fucking you from behind.

But Mark drags you to the men's room instead. Spreads your legs and makes you grab the sink.

"You know I'm a man of few words. And as much as I'd love to start you off with a hands-on approach, I think you haven't earned it yet. So let's show you some videos first, huh?". He pulls out his phone and opens his Google drive. He's got a folder titled xxx and in it is maliciously organized subfolders by years.

"I can click any of them? And I'll see you making a woman squirt?" You say, impressed.

"Never met a girl whose pussy I couldn't make gush. Although I'd stick to the pre-retirement years." He says and you settle on a 2012 video. You know the later ones probably feature his ex. But this one stars a faceless blonde, all curves and moans. You squirm when Mark smacks her ass, watching it jiggle. You keep your eyes on how his tongue slides between her folds. You try to ignore how he's rolled up your dress and is just staring at your underwear. Watching it get wetter and wetter. You're too preoccupied with younger him to ask for his touch now.

The next video is a brunette, with pierced nipples and a possible disdain for Mark. That's gone when he slides into her, fingers pinching her clit. He makes her come too, and the next one and the one after that. You've seen enough. You turn and find him eye level with your cunt, long legs bent into a squat. He may be more than a decade older than in the video, but an old dog doesn't stop learning new tricks.

"Mark, I need you, please." You beg, beyond ready to be treated like one of his "little starlets" from the spank bank. You wonder if he'd film you too. Have your pussy soaking his cock in your juices as a memento of your time together.

"How do you want me, sweetheart?" He asks.

"Need you to fuck me, want to feel your cock inside of me, please." You moan out. And he's a perfect gentleman, because he promises he'll give it to you.

But first he slides his fingers to the front of your underwear and two of them are on your clit, rubbing. Maybe it's because of his height, that the length has spread even to his limbs. Maybe it's the dexterity, the sheer speed of his movements. Usually you'd prefer it starting slow, and building up. But with Mark, it was all climbing, starting at a 100 and moving towards 200 and above. Your hips are bucking against him, searching more. He slows just for a second in order to thrust two fingers inside of you.

"Look at you, already a mess. Did I get you so rilled up, sweetheart. Does this old man do it so much for you?" He asks and smiles as you can only groan and beg for more. He's not someone who draws out things, so he tells you to keep it up for him as he opens the condom package. He watches you whine that your fingers don't feel as good, that they aren't enough.

"Oh sweetheart, just you wait. You're going to be ruined." Mark says as he feeds you just the tip. He makes you take your hands off, replacing them with his. He thrusts up, matching his movements on your clit.

"It's too big, please." You say. Were you asking him for more or to stop? Your body seemed to favour the latter , because you were practically dripping on the bathroom floor. Mark uses his other hand to bring you closer to himself, his shallow thrusts pumping deeper and deeper. He's hitting that spot in your body, the one which you didn't even know existed.

"Be good and cum for me, will you, sweetheart? I don't have all night. So unless you want me to drag you out like this and fuck you on the town square under the fireworks, you better let go." Mark says. He does miss how tight you get around him when he talks like this. He continues, telling you how good you make him feel and how he can't wait to see your pretty orgasm face.That's what tips you over the edge. They're tears coming out of your eyes, you're pretty sure you're drooling and Mark's cock is indeed soaked with your juices. You can hear the obnoxious squelching of his last few thrusts, before he also comes.

He's still inside you when your alarm rings, the sound coming from your purse, long forgotten on the floor. You scramble to turn it off.

"One minute to midnight. Well, it's more like 20 seconds now." You announce. Mark takes your face in his hands (still slick with you) and kisses you gently. He doesn't have the heart to tell you that this is the first kiss he's had all year. You don't have the heart to tell him the same. All you know is that your return flight might be rebooked to a later date. You finally found something interesting to do in your parent's new town.

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 x you #f1 imagine #mark webber x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber smut

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