#i’ve got 7 so far and it was a struggle

[forensisch]

not many people know or have interacted with johann, but i think the ‘how well do you know’ quiz would be fun to do… however thinking of questions is harder than i thought.

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 7. Motivated, Sir!

Masterlist

Summary: You struggle to keep up with your freelance work - Soap has the wonderful idea of bringing you and Riley to base.

Warnings: cursing, yeah.

Sure enough, Simon had requested your services about three days after you’d run into him in the café.

He had sent you an email the Tuesday following your run in. It was the same as before – short and to the point. leaving thursday at 0900. riley will need her meds at 1300. i’ll be on base for a few days for trainig, won’t be far. call if you need anything.

You showed up no later than twelve-thirty, your backpack hanging off one shoulder and a fresh bag of peanut-butter-bacon cookies in your free hand. You cooed and smiled at Riley as she all but attacked you as you entered through the front door. She seemed to have grown to miss you, which had your heart swelling with pride. People pleaser and a puppy pleaser, it seems.

After a dose of her medicine and a much-needed walk through one of the nearby parks, you crashed on Simon’s couch to do some freelance work. With your feet kicked up onto the coffee table (politely, with your socks on and your shoes by the front door), you tapped and clicked away at your laptop, fiddling with the edge of your sweatshirt as you concentrated.

You may have bitten off more than you could chew, as much as you hated to admit it. Prancing your skill online – boosting social media posts that boasted about your expertise in logo design and marketing had brought in more customers than you anticipated. Recognition was exciting, and you had taken on four clients at once; something you were currently and mentally kicking yourself for. The burnout had settled in quickly after you finished the first portfolio of logo samples, and you wanted nothing more than to take a nap with Riley as your blanket.

You sighed, sinking further into the couch cushions and running your hands over your face. You were dangerously low on motivation.

A few moments later, you were holding your phone, listening to each ring as you chewed on the edge of your sleeve. A bad habit, one that your mother had tried to break you of in your teenage years, but you stubbornly kept to it.

Soon, the phone picked up with a click. “Hey, babe.”

“Hi Tyler…” you said with a relived exhale. “You busy?”

“Eh-“ he grunted; you heard the sound of tinkering in the background, and the voice of the secretary at his main office. “I’ve got a moment. Everything alright?”

You sighed. “Yeah… nothing’s wrong, I’m just stuck.”

“How so?”

“Well” – you sat upright, crossing your feet under you and putting your laptop to the side – “I’ve finished the one project, and now I-“

“Which project?” Tyler interjected. You heard beeping, followed by one of his coworkers asking for a wire stripper.

“The logo design for that new attorney’s office off of main and thirty-fourth.”

“Oh! Yeah yeah, I remember.”

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I finished that one. I have three other projects now, and one is due by the-“

“Three?! I thought you just had the one!”

A sigh escaped your lips. “I did, and then more clients flooded in, I just got ahead of myself-“

“Sweetheart- here, Max, hold this for a second- you got too much on your plate. You’ve already been house-sitting for that one guy, Sam-“

“-Simon.”

“Right, yeah. But, doll, maybe you need a break. Can you tell him that you need him to find someone else for now?”

You faltered. “You’re saying quit the house-sitting gig?”

“Not quit, I know Riley likes you – but maybe just have him get another guy to finish the week.”

“I can’t do that!” you said, a bit taken aback that Tyler of all people, Mr. Work-Till-You-Drop himself, would suggest that you let go of a project. “He can’t exactly find a different sitter right now, he’s not going to be home.”

“Alright, alright- what about dropping one of the logo gigs?”

“That would look bad for my business.”

“Well, babe-“ you heard someone call for him in the background of the call. “-give me a sec, Ron, it’s important- I don’t know what to tell you. You bit off more than you can chew, it sounds like.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach; why am I bothering him? He’s working, and this isn’t something he can exactly help with. “Yeah- I’m sorry. I’m just- I dunno. I need something to motivate me.”

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart.” Tyler sighed; you could hear the pinch in his brow. “I’m not trying to be short with you, I… eh, I guess this wasn’t the best time, hmm? Tell you what: when Sam comes back-“

“Simon.” You said with a chuckle.

“Shit, sorry- when Simon gets back, and you’re back home, let’s have a day in, yeah? You pick a movie, I’ll get the takeaway, and have a look at your portfolio. Sound good?”

You smiled, the knot in your stomach easing up a bit. “Yeah, sounds like paradise.”

“Good.” Tyler said, and you could hear the smile in his tone. “I’ll make sure it is. Let your mind rest a bit, alright? And give Riley a kiss for me.”

“What, I don’t get one?”

“Yours are automatic!”

“Leavin’ me for a dog, are you?”

“I wouldn’t leave you for Aphrodite.”

You smiled. “I love you. But go back to work! I don’t want Ron to hate me.”

Tyler chuckled, the sound sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Alright. Love you too.”

You ended the call, tossing the phone onto the cushion next to you. Why did I call him? He was at work – I knew that. He doesn’t even know anything about design. I could have texted him – or I could have just left him alone. Why would I even bother him with this? How could he have helped?

You groaned, closing your laptop and moving it to the coffee table. Looking across the room, you saw that Riley was no longer in her bed, her blanket partially spilling onto the floor next to it. She whined; you turned your head to find her sitting at the door. She met your gaze, licking her lips and tapping her feet anxiously on the floor.

“Do you need to go out?”

She whined again, impatient.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you huffed, standing on your feet and stretching your limbs. She trotted over to you with a groan, then back to the door.

You followed her there, slipping on your shoes. You reached into the closet and grabbed her leash, leaning down to clip it onto her collar. She grunted and jerked her head back, taking a few steps away from you.

Confusion settled on your face. “C’mon girl, don’tcha want to go for a walk?”

She let out a few voofs, raising a paw and stomping it indignantly. You tried again, reaching out with the clip of the leash, but she darted away once more. She stood by the closet and barked shrilly, still staring at you.

This lasted for a few more minutes; you’d stand there, taking every woo and wuff that she threw at you. After a few moments of the following silence, you’d take a step towards her, holding up the leash with a cocked brow, and she’d huff and turn in a circle.

“I’m sorry I don’t speak awoowoo.” You said in frustration, putting your hands on your hips. “spreek je Nederlands?”

She huffed dramatically, lying down and resting her nose on her front paws. You sighed yourself and headed back towards the couch – she yipped, whining at you through her nose.

“What?” you asked, throwing your hands up. “I don’t know what you want!”

She barked back at you. Helpful.

You groaned. This wasn’t getting you anywhere. You went back to the couch and grabbed your phone, flopping stomach-first onto the cushions. Riley trotted over to your side and whined, sitting politely on the rug.

With a few clicks, Simon’s contact appeared on your phone; well, it was Riley’s face, her snout taking up most of the camera and her ears tucked back against her head as she had sniffed the lens in the moment. You chewed your lip. It’s not an emergency… but maybe he forgot to tell me about part of her routine? She hadn’t acted this upset the last time you were here… and she had certainly never indicated no when you got ready to take her outside.

You pressed the call button, putting your phone on speaker. Not half a ring had passed before Simon answered.

“Wha’s wrong? ‘S Riley ok?”

“N- hi, Simon – yeah, Riley’s ok. She-“

“Are you ok?”

You chuckled. “Yes, I’m fine. This isn’t an emergency.”

You heard him sigh, and quickly tried to deescalate the situation. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you-“

“Don’t apologize,” he said, “ya did nothin’ wrong. I know you wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.”

You laughed again. “Well, I don’t really know if it is or isn’t – I’m trying to take Riley out for a stroll, and she won’t go,”

“No?”

“No. I try to put her leash on and she runs away. She’s yapping at me though, like she’s got something to say.” You looked at her, reaching a finger to boop her nose.

You heard the faint sound of gunshots in the background of the call. You had half a mind to ask if he was in battle- war- whatever they called it- at the moment, until you remembered that he said he was training this week. “Ya sure she needs t’ go out?”

“She’s acting like she does.” You said, rolling onto your side.

He grunted. “Pain flarin’ up?”

“She’s not limping.”

“Biscuit?”

“She’s had her first daily.”

He sighed. “Beats me. I’d think she was-“

“Oi! LT!”

You listened closely, suddenly drawn to the commotion beyond the speaker. “Simon?”

“One sec, luv-“ he said quickly. “I’m busy, Soap-“

“Cap needs ye back oan th’ feld. One o’ the Jimmies hud o’ nice fall.”

“Fuckin’ wot?”

“One o’ the rookies collapsed.” Soap was now closer to the phone; close enough that you could hear he was out of breath. “Cap wants ye out there.”

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“Tell ‘im yer feckin’ self, ye dry piece o’ shite-“

Riley suddenly barked, making you jolt. She stood with her paws on the edge of the couch and staring at the phone.

“Awe, tha’ mah girl?” Soap said from the other line. “Mah Bonnie, yea? She miss me?”

“’M on the fuckin’ phone, Johnny.”

“Ah know, I’m talkin’ to the pup.”

You thought for a moment, as Simon and Soap bickered in the background. Maybe, Riley misses Simon’s coworkers? She used to work with them… judging on her reaction – panting and ears perked up as she listened to the conversation – you’d guess you were right.

“Hey, uh… Simon?”

‘- hm?” Simon halted his bickering with Soap at the sound of your voice.

“Does she maybe want to see your- team? Or Soap, at the very least?”

“Aye, she does.” Soap chimed in, making Riley whine. “Ya hear tha’? She misses ‘er ol’ uncle Johnny.”

“Bugger off, mate.” Simon grumbled.

You suddenly felt like you made a mistake even voicing your thoughts. “Sorry if it’s not a good idea, I just heard how she reacted to Soap’s voice, and, y’know – how she used to work with you all…” you chuckled at yourself. “Now that I think about it, I probably couldn’t even get on base, could I?”

“It would-“

“None o’ that keech!” Soap said, cutting off Simon for the umpteenth time. “Ghost, ye can tell the gate guards you’ll be expectin’ er. Or cap, he’ll vouch for ‘er. Want tae see my girl.”

You felt a bout of excitement roll through your veins. “I think that would be great! And I’d get to meet you all finally. I should know who Simon travels the world with, right?”

There was a moment of silence over the phone, save for the distant gunfire and the cadence of orders being called out. You wondered if you had said something wrong; ‘travel the world…’ it’s deployment, not a vacation. Why did I say that?

“Don’t see why not.” Simon finally said, and you sighed quietly.

“You sure?” you confirmed.

“It’s jus’ what the pup needs.” Soap said. “Probably misses ‘er other friends, too-“

“Jus’ head towards the naval base, n’ I’ll send you the address to the gate.” Simon said with a huff. “Tell them you’re here for Ghost.”

“Ghost…” you repeated.

“’S my callsign. Oh, and, uh- put ‘er harness on. She wears that to base, probably why she won’t take jus’ the leash.”

You smiled, heart fluttering a bit at the information. “Great! I’ll see you soon!”

“Drive safe.”

You bit your lip as the call ended, that warmth still bubbling within your chest. A thousand, fleeting questions circled within your head as you rolled onto your side, clutching your phone to your chest. Does he call everyone luv? What gave him the callsign “Ghost”? I wonder what his team is like… I wonder what Johnny- Soap?- is like. I wonder if they’re all as attractive as-

Riley barked; you yelped, body tensing as you were torn from your thoughts. She pawed at you, still standing on her two hind legs and yowling lowly in your direction.

“Alright, alright- let’s go!” you rolled off the couch, equally as excited as she was. She happily obliged to sit next to you when you grabbed the harness from the closet, slipping it over her head and latching the leash to its back. She then eagerly trotted to the door, tapping her feet anxiously and whining.

You stuffed your feet into your shoes (you hoped that a sweatshirt, leggings, and rain boots would be appropriate for bringing your client’s dog on a military base). You stepped out into the overcast day, locking Simon’s door behind you and shoving the key into your bra; excitement boiled underneath your veins as the two of you headed over to your car, right as your phone buzzed with Simon’s text.

Simon watched as your contact photo faded from the screen. His eyes hardened as he turned to Johnny – the bloke had a cheeky grin on his face, staring right back at his lieutenant. Simon wanted to grab him by his mohawk and swing him into the wall like a discus.

“Wha’?” Soap said innocently, shoulders shrugging with irreproachability. “I miss ‘er.”

“Ya don’t have nothin’ to miss, you wanker.” Simon snarled, stuffing his phone into his back pocket. “You’ve never met ‘er.”

“The dog, ya git.” Soap sighed. His eyes narrowed in amused suspicion. “Yer awfully protective o’ the lass, don’t ye think?”

Oh, Simon could have launched the Scot into next week. He knew what he was doing, the bastard. He knew Johnny was either going to try and pair you with himself, sweep you off your feet and charm you with his stupid blue eyes and bright smile – or, he was going to pitch you with his lieutenant. Simon didn’t like not knowing how to prepare himself: to either cockblock you and Johnny, or to refuse any advances Johnny made to him on your behalf.

Soap huffed, not intimidated in the slightest by Ghost’s dissociative, angry stare. “Calm doon, LT.” he said, shoving his shoulder with two, sturdy fingers. “She’s got a lad, aye? I jus’ want tae see Riley. I’ll leave your precious house-sitter alone.” He held a hand up and crossed a finger over his chest. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never in Boy Scouts.” Ghost grumbled.

“Does it make a difference?” Soap said with a quirked eyebrow.

Simon sighed, leaving Soap on the training field to find Price. He had to let him know you’d be coming to base, or you’d be stopped at the gate and turned away – or worse, dragged off by the military police. It would be a surefire way of keeping you away from Soap, but it was also rather unhospitable. Riley wouldn’t be too impressed, either.

Still, Johnny had a point. Why was he fretting? You weren’t his.

“Jus’ keep an eye on the recruits. Be back in a moment.” He said over his shoulder.

“Aye, LT.” Soap responded: Simon could hear the grin on his face.

Smug bastard.

Next ->

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[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain, mention of Sirus' family but no talk of abuse, some talk of traumatic injury

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Sirius hates the cold. It makes him look ill, his nose always runs, and he does not have a head made for hats. 

The walk to the rink yesterday was bad, with the chill and the early hour and the dark mood that seemed to permeate him like it infused his very blood, but you made it better by being yourself. He suspects you might have even been going out of your way to be sweeter than usual, given that you knew it was the anniversary of the day Sirius ran away from his family’s home. You’d tried to cheer him up. Still, yesterday was bad.

Today is worse. 

You’re silent as you stalk down the sidewalk, one boy on either side of you. You said hello to both him and Remus as you stepped out the door of your apartment, and then that was it. If it were Sirius it might make sense, but you always have an unnatural amount of energy in the mornings. Obviously you’re not speaking to him. And Sirius is still upset about the addition of the death spiral to your routine, so he’s not speaking to Remus. And Remus is hardly one to spark up conversation during an uncomfortable silence, so that just makes the three of you a very sullen, very silent procession to your early fucking morning practice. 

Except when you arrive, the rink is already bustling. You take one step inside before going back out the door, forcing both boys back outside with you.

“What the fuck?” Remus tries to peer inside. For once, Sirius agrees with him. “Who’s taken our slot?”

“I don’t know,” you say, but you’re still standing in front of the door like you’re barring their entry. “I’m going to go find out. You guys stay here.” 

“Why?” Sirius asks.

Even when you look at him you’re not really looking at him, your eyes distant. If you’re trying to make him feel like shit, it’s working. “Because I don’t need either of you going in there to bite someone’s head off. I’ve got it.” 

With that, you slip inside, not giving either of them a chance to argue. Sirius supposes he could go after you anyway, but you seem like you’d bite his head off, and he’s hurting enough from the cold without that extra ailment to contend with. He pulls out a cigarette instead. 

“You really shouldn’t do that,” Remus hums, but when Sirius looks over the other boy is lighting up too, a cig dangling from the corner of his mouth. When he sees Sirius struggling with his lighter, his fingers frozen and clumsy, he rolls his eyes and steps closer. 

Sirius goes still as Remus cups a hand around his cigarette, lithe fingers an inch from his mouth. The lighter rasps once, and the warmth next to Sirius’ face is a welcome sensation. When Remus steps away Sirius straightens his shoulders, expression carefully impassive as he inhales. He doesn’t thank him. 

“She’ll have your ass for doing it, too,” he says. 

Remus lifts a brow, blowing smoke out one corner of his mouth. “Why? I don’t need my lungs for anything.” 

Sirius shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. She thinks she should be in charge of the whole world.” 

A soft chuckle. Remus looks out to where the sun will rise in a few hours, the sky still a sweet blue. “Maybe she should be.” 

Sirius can’t help a little smile at that. He takes comfort only in knowing Remus doesn’t see. “Don’t let her hear you say that.” 

They lapse into a brief silence, easier and more contented than Sirius would have thought possible between the two of them. It breaks only when you come bustling back out the doors. 

“Okay, so apparently—” You stop, looking between them both. “Guys. Seriously?” 

“What?” Remus asks, but Sirius knows better, dropping his cigarette and stamping it out. 

Your gaze flicks over him, almost approving but still a far cry from friendly. He swears your mouth wants to smile at him, only you’re not letting it. 

“Those are so bad for you,” you tell Remus. 

He levels you with a dry look, the brave bastard. “What does it matter? I’m not an athlete.” 

You wince but don’t back down. “Athletes aren’t the only ones with reason to live past fifty.” You give him a hard look. It takes a while, but eventually Remus relents, dropping his cigarette as Sirius had. You nod, crouching to pick up both dog-ends and taking them to a bin. “Each one shortens your life by eleven minutes, you know.” 

Remus meets Sirius’ eyes, incredulous. “She comes prepared with statistics?” he asks in a hushed voice. 

Sirius nods. “Told you so.” 

You brush your hands off on your pants. “Okay. Anyway, hockey practice got moved up.” 

“You’re joking,” says Remus. 

“Nope. And, someone else got wind of it before us, because the slot they had at nine has already been filled. We can’t practice today.” 

Sirius shakes his head. “Bullshit. Why did hockey get moved?” 

You shrug, hugging your middle so your hands can burrow under your arms for warmth. “Management said they didn’t know, only that someone on the team asked for a different slot just for today. Seems like they were sweet-talked into it.” 

Your eyes meet Sirius’ for half a second, and he takes out his phone, frigid thumbs anger-typing away. 

“So that’s it then?” Remus asks. He looks like he’d really like his cigarette back. “We’ve just woken up before dawn and we’re not going to practice?” 

You sigh. “Seems that way. We can come back during open skate, but you know how that is.” 

Sirius scowls, and Remus’ expression twinges with distaste. “Yeah,” says Remus, “let’s wait until tomorrow.” 

You all break where you usually do, though hours ahead of schedule, Remus going off towards his place and Sirius walking you in the direction of yours. 

“Fancy a coffee?” he asks you, voice intentionally light. 

It has the expected effect. You bristle at his easy tone, keeping your eyes ahead. “No, thanks.” 

“Fair enough.” Sirius would really like something to warm his hands, but he suspects he needs to pick his battles with you today. “Fancy telling me when we’re going to be friends again?” 

You blow out a harsh breath. It crystalizes in front of you, and you walk right through. “Don’t be daft. We’re always friends. It’s because I’m your friend that I’m so pissed off with you.” 

He nods slowly. “I don’t follow.” 

You shake your head, anger quickening your pace so that Sirius is nearly jogging to keep up with you. “Why can’t you ever stay out of your own way?” you ask him. “I know yesterday was hard for you, but you can’t be an asshole to everyone just because you’re having a bad day.” 

“Hey now, that’s not fair.” Sirius knows joking probably isn’t the best tactic with you right now, but he can’t help himself. “I wasn’t an asshole to you, was I?” 

“That’s what I mean!” You stop so hard he nearly plows into you, but you don’t so much as flinch at the possibility. Your stare is fierce. “You can’t keep trying to scare him off. It’s not going to work, and we need him. Can’t you see how much better he’s made us already? I know you didn’t want a coach, but Remus is good for us. So you can stop being so difficult.” 

“I am not being difficult,” says Sirius, though he often is. You stick your tongue in your cheek, annoyed, and he fights the urge to take your face in his hands. He hates having you cross with him, but at least you’re talking. “And you don’t know what we would be like if he weren’t here. We might’ve been fine.” 

You sigh, looking suddenly tired. And so, so disappointed. “That’s not the point anyways. You know what you said to him yesterday was wrong.” 

Sirius feels a dull stab in his gut. He knows. He does. He knew it the second it came flying out of his mouth, and he has no idea why Remus doesn’t seem as livid with him as you are. Remus, with his even voice and his exasperated, knowing looks and that stern little wrinkle between his brows, who seems able to wind Sirius up better than anyone else. A match to his short fuse. 

“How would you feel?” you ask. Some of the anger has fallen away from your voice, leaving it soft and sad. “What if we went to competition in a few weeks, and you injured yourself so that you knew you could never skate again. And then someone used it to mock you.” 

“He’s risking us doing that,” Sirius says, stubbornly, though he can hear the plea in his own voice, “by asking us to change the routine.” 

“He’s trying to help us,” you reply firmly. But your shoulders droop, and you sigh. “I know you feel bad about it. I’m done being mad at you now. It’s exhausting.” 

Sirius feels too hollowed out to revel much in the victory, but your arm linking through his does help some. “Some could say that was my plan all along,” he jokes weakly. 

You make a halfhearted attempt at a chuckle. “Good thing I know better. If your hands are in danger of falling off, you could stop at mine, make yourself a coffee.” 

“When I asked you for coffee five minutes ago you said no.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t done punishing you yet.” 

[wakeup01]

Two Twinks, One Wish

“So Charlie, what did you wish for Christmas?”

“Really? Can we just watch the movie?” I say, annoyed.

Daniel had been my boyfriend for about a month now and had recently moved into my flat, just in time for Christmas. Since then things had been a struggle, he would continually whine about my inadequacies - how I didn’t tidy enough, didn’t appreciate him and most of all how I was a terrible top.

See, the problem was, we were both twinks. We had the same skinny body type, with barely any muscle definition. The only real difference being he had the better ass. Admittedly, I had a severe lack of confidence in the bedroom, frequently failing to get in the mood. Daniel on the other hand was very particular about what he liked and what he expected.

“Come on! You must be able to think of something. God knows there’s enough things you can be better at…” Daniel chastised.

Even now he had turned a harmless movie night into another chance to take petty digs. We were on the couch watching some cheesy xmas film, where the protagonist makes wishes that magically come true. Now he was insisting for me to make some stupid wish.

“Why don’t you go first? You seem to have a lot of ideas in mind.” I shoot back, not taking my eyes off the screen.

“Hmm, I got the perfect one! Charlie, I wish… you were a better top!” He laughs and nudges into my shoulder.

I roll my eyes, of course, I should of guessed this is where things were heading. Ugh. Out of nowhere I feel a chill wash over my whole body and a tightness take hold in my chest. After a moment the feeling subsides.

“Very funny. Have you been thinking that one up all night.” My voice dripping in sarcasm.

I shift in my seat slightly, a dull warmth emanating from my crotch. I must be feeling unwell, I’m definitely not being turned on by his degrading remarks. But the heat doesn’t fade, in fact it only grows in intensity. I get the impulse to grope at my growing bulge, the tightness straining against my jeans. Daniel would never live it down If I did, but it was becoming rather uncomfortable.

“You look a little flustered there… ah. I see. Are you really getting horny from this? Christ, you’re pathetic.” Daniel scolds, reaching his hand down.

Before I can object he unzips my trousers and pulls down the waistband of my briefs. My cock bursts forth and slaps against my chest, pre already leaking from it’s tip. Except it’s not my cock, this monster is almost twice my normal size. And my balls are inflating in front of my very eyes.

“What the hell?” I shout.

“Woah, oh shit, it’s working. It’s a Christmas miracle!” He exclaims in barely contained glee.

“Daniel, what did you do!” My voice cracks.

My dick continues to snake up my torso, going from 5 inches, to 7 then to 8. As it grows, so does my hornyness, overpowering my head as I fall into a drunken stupor. This is the most intense erection I’ve ever felt. My hand rubs up and down the entire length and I attempt to wrap my fingers around it, before discovering its girth is now thicker than my hand.

“Nice cock ‘bro’. Good tops are well equipped downstairs. And now, you are too. Hahaha” I look over and see him smirk at me.

He’s enjoying this far too much for my liking, but I’m in no position to fight back. Why did he make that stupid wish, I better not be stuck with this forever. At this point I don’t think my cock would even fit into any underwear I own. How exactly can I walk around with this thing swinging between my legs.

“You know who makes good tops? Jocks. That cocky attitude and carefree nature, coasting through life without thinking.” Daniel suggests, wistfully.

Jocks are also narcissistic morons. And I’m certainly not going to be one just to be a better ‘top’. I’m suddenly distracted by a chafing from my rear, a pair of straps seem to be cupping the cheeks of my tight butt. Below my balls now sits a stained pouch, the smell of musk rising from it hits my nose and I recoil.

“I think it’s jockstraps only from now on Charlie. And woof, sweaty ones at that.”

All of my senses are being overpowered, it’s like my head is in a vice that keeps on tightening. The film in front of me becomes a blur, my focus shattered by the intense pleasure from my new cock.

“Cock.” I blurt out.

I hear Daniel laughing from out of view.

My head is starved of oxygen as all the blood rushes to my groin, I’ve never been this horny before. I feel the strangest sensation as my brain thickens, filling up with throbbing meat. All the space padded out until I’m holding up a heavy dumbbell on the end of my neck. My thoughts were still there, somewhere, but it took so long to find them. It was quicker and easier to just embrace jockdom, stop worrying so much and just go along with the flow. If I was unsure of what to say then bro, I’d just say ‘bro’! A bro can fill in sentences with ‘bro’ and everyone will know what a bro they are. And bro? Being labeled as a dumb bro means no one expects anything meaningful from me. Brawn over brains is the mantra of my life dude.

“Jock’s also like to wear their bro-hood on their sleeves, and in your case, quite literally.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth I feel a sharp pain, as if a hundred needles are stabbing down my arm. I brace myself before glancing down. And there it was, 🍖 the meat emoji tattooed on my left hand. Huhhuh, awesome bro. Branded a meathead for life.

“Bro?” I ask slowly, my voice now considerably deeper.

“Yeah ‘Chad?’” Daniel emphasises.

The name immediately sticks to me like glue. Chad. I am such a Chad. I have some distant recollection of being someone else, but I can’t be bothered to search my brain for it. There’s a more pressing concern.

“Bruh, I need to empty my balls.” I grunt. The pressure from my engorged member becoming unbearable.

“Then you know what to do. Good muscle tops have their cocks milked every day.”

I grip my cock and begin pumping in earnest, my jaw hanging open. As I masturbate, my hands and arms bulk up with muscle. I see my veins very noticeably pop out. I feel a desperate urge to flex, letting one hand go from my dick. I ball it into a fist and raise it to the side of my head, squeezing my biceps. My arm pulses with meat, sending a vain satisfaction to my pleasure center.

“Good dumb tops spend all their time in the gym or on the field. Sculpting their body into the perfect chiselled shape.” His nasally voice instructs.

Muscle continues to form all over my lithe frame; my shoulders broaden and my chest ripples into a tight 6 pack. My clothes are loudly ripped to shreds. Memories enter my head of spending hours working out, of hanging with the other jocks and forming a vacant facade of a personality. Sweat drips from my hairy armpits, staining the couch under me. The room quickly starts smelling like a gym, my rank feet tearing free from my socks. My face cracks as it squares out into a more defined outline, brow growing heavy above my distant eyes. My body is now taking up most of the couch as Daniel budges over to the side. I quicken my pace, pumping now with both hands. My balls tighten.

“Fuck yeah brah.” I roar, reaching climax.

My cock spurts rope after rope of musky cum directly at my face, I’m left covered in my own seed. Daniel leans over to me and begins to eagerly lick at my face. He savours my taste on his tongue before swallowing. The sign of an expert bottom, huhuhu.

“Mmm. Great Tops know how to take control. And you’re a great top Chad.” Daniel moans in lust.

He’s right.

“Dude, this film is fucking dull. I’m changing to the sports channel bro. There’s a sick game playing today.” My hands take the remote and switch to a noisy football game.

I grab Daniels’s tiny little body and force him onto my lap. I flex again and push his face into my armpit. His tongue drags along my wiry dank hair. He moves his hand between my legs and starts passionately fingering his hungry ass hole, using my cum as lube. I hear him panting heavily like a dog. Man, my boyfriend is such a whiny brat…

“Bro, it’s my turn.” My cocky voice booms.

“What?” I hear his muffled voice cry out.

“Uhh… I wish… I wish you were a Bro like me, Bro.” I smirk.

“Wait, noooo!” He screams.

His body shudders and contorts as I hold his face to my pits with my newfound strength. He packs on pounds of muscle in a matter of seconds. Dan’s moaning turns to grunts. He’s going to make for such a Good. Arrogant. Dumb. Bro.

I watch his dong stretch down his leg, his balls sagging between his thickening thighs. The head of Dan’s veiny cock leaking like a faucet. A pair of juicy pecs push out from his chest and his adam apple swells. I pull away the remains of his clothes, letting them fall to the ground.

Dan’s dainty feet beef up to a size 12, sweat gathering between his toes - smelling like a real man should. I feel his previously fat bubble butt tense with lean muscle on my lap. With a squeak, his thoroughly abused fuck hole tightens shut, never to be stretched open again. He only tops after all, like me.

I release my grip on him and he pulls away, my sweat covering his square jawed face. He stuffs his junk into a jockstrap, looking barely concealed as it throbs with need. His messy hair has receded into a clean as fuck buzzcut. We now look almost identical, except that his meat emoji 🍖 tattoo is engraved on his right hand.

“Bro!” Dan’s voice deepens.

“Let’s go find some sluts to breed, bro.” We both smirk at each other and flex.

[pisswitch04]

Very long semi detailed diapered fantasy that no one asked for:

I want someone to diaper me for a long road trip cause they don’t want to have to stop all the time so I can tinkle. I would argue that I could hold it if I needed to but they brought up all the accidents I’ve been having recently 🫣. After that I would accept being diapered (but I totally won’t need them I swear). I would feel it not even 5 minutes away from the house but there’s no way I could convince them to turn back so I can pee in the potty like a big girl. I would just decide to wait it out. Maybe they’d need to pee soon and we’d stop at a rest stop. 2 hours in and I wouldn’t be able to stop squirming. I would have leaked at least once and when I leak it almost always leads to an accident. I would have to clutch at my crotch and squirm nonstop to try and hold it back. They would look over and smile at me struggling. “You could always just go peepee, sweetheart”. Hearing that would make me leak again, which would turn into a dribble and before I could stop it I would be pissing full force in my diaper.

At the next rest stop (only 2 minutes away 😣) they would bring me to the bathroom, and sit me on the toilet after removing my soaking diaper and tell me to let go. Hardly anything would come out, I just emptied my bladder 2 minutes ago. So they would tell me to get up, and put me into another diaper. Satisfied, they would then use the toilet like a grown up, and we would be back on our way.

Another hour and I would be back to desperate, this time with a weaker bladder from having just had an accident. It would take far less time for me to burst this time, in fact it might only take a comforting hand over my diaper and telling me it’s ok to go peepee in my diaper 😳. After wetting another diaper they would remind me that if I have a third accident in a row I would be back to being padded 24/7. Another 15 minutes and we would arrive at our destination.

We would grab our stuff from the car, head inside and make ourselves a snack. After eating I would ask if I could maybe wear big girl panties for the rest of the day since the potty was so close, but they would say I should stick to pull-ups in case I got distracted and couldn’t make it in time.

I would begrudgingly agree (I did just have 2 back to back accidents) and head upstairs to read. Reading in bed would be so comfy I just wouldn’t be able to help myself falling asleep all warm and cozy. When they wake me up for dinner I would smile sleepily before freezing, realizing that my pull-up is soaked. I was too sleepy after the long drive and my bladder was too tired so I peed my pull-up in bed 😳.

They would of course be kind about it, gently pulling the soaked pull-up down my legs, trying not to make a puddle while moving my drippy pull-up. They would comfort me while putting me in a nice fluffy diaper and take me downstairs for dinner 💛

[lavenderspence]

Spending time with you | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, reader can’t swim

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Training and swimming, he didn't really care about. Just as long as he was spending time with you.

Request: Hiii! I have a request that can be fun/funny and a cute read for a summer day hehe what about Hotch teaching reader how to swim? she’s been embarrassed to let him know she doesn’t know how to but since he’s getting ready for his triathlon (maybe another one, not the same as season 7 so a slightly older Hotch if you want🤭) and she’s joined him for runs and biking, the only thing left is the swimming! 🩷

A/N: this is the shortest thing i’ve written so far, but this mild writer's block has been kicking my ass. and so has my hyper-fixation on writing all my requests, babes is struggling. but yeah, this one is a cutie, so enjoy!

Ps: girly also doesn't know how to swim so - my husband's gonna take care of me, don't worry

Requests are CLOSED! | mastelist

You kicked your legs, letting the cold water splash around. You gripped into the edge of the pool tightly, as you looked on over, trying to see the bottom and failing. It wasn’t possible - at three meters deep, just looking at the darkness down there made your stomach rage with nerves. 

You swallowed, took a deep breath, and turned around to see him fastening a fitness watch on his wrist. 

The navy blue swim trunks he was wearing were highlighting his body well. He looked almost the same as the last time he’d done the triathlon - 4 years ago. But there were just a few small differences too. The smile lines adorning both his eyes and lips were now even more prominent. The small, but barely noticeable tummy he had was highlighted deliciously when he was wearing a dress shirt. And of course, the salt and pepper hair he’d decided not to dye this last time.

He looked good, he looked hot, but even his body, the whole package you’d forever be in love with, couldn’t distract you from the worry you felt, the mild fear. 

When he’d asked you to help him train for the annual FBI triathlon, you couldn’t tell him no. You loved spending the extra time with him - you loved seeing him active and you loved the goofy smile he got after a good run or some biking. 

Funny enough, you liked it too - the adrenaline, smiling in his direction, finishing up on a walk with your hands intertwined, a bit out of breath. The naps that followed after that were cuddling close to him, spooning him, and having him spoon you. 

After finishing up with the running and biking, the only thing left was swimming, which was why you found yourself holding onto the edge for dear life, your heart beating like crazy. Because, see, when you’d agreed to help your husband train for the triathlon, you’d forgotten to mention one very important detail - you’d never learned how to swim.

Three weeks of training and you hadn’t gathered the courage to tell him - so here you were, worried, overtaken by fear, watching as he jumped into the pool head first. 

Seconds later, he swam to the surface and took a deep breath. His hands pushed at the wet strands back, and he started swimming in your direction. 

He settled between your legs with a smile. His hands ran across your outer thighs, massaging the skin and getting them all wet. 

You reached for him, pushing a strand of hair off his forehead, before your palm settled on his cheek and you ran your thumb across his stubble. You loved the barely there facial hair he’d let grow in the last few days. 

“You ready?” He asked, turning his head to lay a small kiss on your wrist. You looked deep into his eyes, as you chewed at the inside of your lip. He must have seen, because he reached up and ran his thumb across your lips, pulling it out a bit to stop you from assaulting the tender flesh anymore.

Your heart pounded and you felt your palms warm up. 

“Actually, I need to tell you something first.” You whispered, as the feeling of mortification and embarrassment suddenly overtook you. So many years of your childhood, and your life were wasted, unable to learn something so basic. 

You watched as his brows furrowed in worry, his eyes shining bright in wonder, “What is it, honey?”

You bit at your lip again, only to have him pull at it again with a shake of his head. You pulled both your hands into your lap, and looked down, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

“Idon’tknowhowtoswim.” You rushed to say quietly

“I don’t think I caught that, honey.” He pushed your chin up and searched your eyes for an answer.

You exhaled, “I don’t know how to swim, Aaron. I never learned.” You finally admit, eyes squeezing shut. 

It was quiet for a second. 

“Open your eyes, honey.” You did as he said, and watched as his finger ran across your rings, his own sparkling in the lightning, “Doesn’t matter that you can’t swim. I can teach you if you want, or you can just sit right here and enjoy the view.” His lips pulled in a small smirk before he kissed your sternum. 

“I don’t care if you train with me or not. I asked so I could spend more time with you. Either way, we’re together.” 

“You’re a good husband, Aaron.” You said as you leaned down to steal a kiss. He pulled you in as much as he could given the awkward position, and gave you a few quick pecks. 

“And you’re an even better wife, honey.” He whispered. 

In the end, you let him pull you into the water, holding onto him tightly as you floated around and he showed you the easiest way to swim. He held you, helped you, and hyped you up when you succeeded. He really was the best husband ever.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[solxamber]

Hello!

This request requires a bit of twst book 7 spoilers so if you haven't gotten there you can skip this or hold it back until you do 😅

But anyway- the request is Lilia (platonic) with a reader who acts similarly to how he did when he was a general. I think it's interesting to see characters seeing someone who reminds them of their younger self- so yeah.

Have a good day :)

Lilia x Reader

Book 7 spoilers (very slight)

I've caught up to book 7 so no problems there

Lilia Vanrouge wasn’t used to being caught off guard. As the former General of Briarland, he prided himself on his ability to anticipate others’ moves. Yet here you were, marching ahead with that all-too-familiar sharpness in your eyes, commanding the attention of everyone around you, and reminding him so much of his younger self that it was almost eerie.

You stepped into the room, your presence unmistakable as you directed students and Night Raven College staff alike, issuing orders with the same calm authority Lilia once had on the battlefield. Even the way you held yourself, arms crossed and eyes scanning the surroundings, felt like an echo from the past.

“Keep your guard up. I’ve seen paper bags put up more of a fight than you lot,” you called out to a group of students struggling with their spell practice. Your voice, despite its cutting tone, held the undeniable weight of experience. You weren’t cruel; you were just efficient.

Lilia, lounging casually nearby, raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his crimson eyes. "Aren't you being a bit harsh, my dear?"

You turned your head slightly, just enough to acknowledge him, but didn’t soften your tone. “Harsh? If they can’t handle a little reality check, they’ve got no business being here. I don’t hand out participation trophies, Vanrouge.”

A slow smile spread across Lilia’s face. Oh yes, you were very much like him in his youth.

"I see, I see. Efficiency over pleasantries, hmm?" Lilia stood up, stretching his arms. "You're starting to sound like a certain fae general I used to know."

You gave him a quick glance before returning to overseeing the students. "So I've heard," you replied dryly. "Though, from what I gather, you’ve gone soft these days."

Lilia laughed, a sharp, almost nostalgic sound. "Soft, you say? Oh, my dear, I like to think I've simply grown wiser. It’s easy to bark orders, but true strength lies in understanding the right moment to act and when to step back.”

You tilted your head, considering his words. "Wiser or not, there’s no place for sentimentality in war… or in this school, for that matter."

He stepped closer, his once light-hearted expression fading as he studied you. "You remind me of myself far more than you know. But remember, it wasn’t just strength or strategy that kept me alive for so long—it was knowing when to let others in. When to trust.”

"Trust?" you echoed, your tone sharp. "Trust is for those who can't stand alone. I don't need anyone to have my back. Never have."

For a moment, the two of you locked eyes, tension crackling in the air like the charge before a storm. Lilia saw in you the same stubborn pride, the same relentless drive that had once pushed him to become one of the most feared generals in Briarland. But he also saw the same isolation—the burden of responsibility that came from always being the strongest, the smartest, the one who couldn’t afford to falter.

“I once believed that too,” Lilia said quietly, his voice no longer teasing but serious, laden with the weight of years gone by. “I thought being strong meant standing alone, shouldering every burden by myself. But you’ll learn, eventually, that even the strongest walls crumble without support.”

You didn’t respond immediately, a flicker of something—recognition, maybe—passing through your eyes. But then you scoffed, shaking your head. “I’m not you. I won’t make that mistake.”

Lilia chuckled again, though this time it was softer, more reflective. “We’ll see. But don’t be surprised if you find yourself looking back one day and realizing you were wrong.”

There was silence between you for a few moments as you both observed the students. Lilia couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of pride and concern as he watched you. You were so much like he had been—determined, unyielding, with the strength and the tactical mind to back it up. But he also knew the dangers of walking that path alone, of pushing others away in the name of strength.

“You know,” Lilia added after a moment, his voice lightening again, “there’s more to life than just winning battles.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Lilia grinned, his mischievousness returning in full force. “Well, for starters, you could try having a little fun. Not everything has to be so serious. Even a general needs to let loose sometimes.”

You smirked. “Maybe. But that’s not my style.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lilia said, eyes twinkling. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

As you turned away, focusing again on the students, Lilia watched you with a mixture of amusement and nostalgia. You were every bit the fierce, formidable leader he had once been—and he couldn’t wait to see what would happen when you finally realized that sometimes, even the strongest people needed a little help from those around them.

Until then, he’d keep an eye on you. After all, there was nothing more interesting than watching a reflection of your younger self slowly begin to learn the lessons you once had.

And Lilia had all the time in the world.

Masterlist

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 21

Hey guys!! The story is starting ramp up to the finish line! I hope you guys are still enjoying it as much I enjoyed writing it.

In this we have Steve taking back his agency, Eddie and Jeff having a little chat and Abbadon leaning on his friends.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

~

As soon as Abbadon grabbed the mic, the audience knew they were going to be in for a ride.

“Las Vegas!” he roared to the crowd, who roared back. “There seems to be some confusion about how naughty I got with Eddie Munson in Denver.”

The crowd went wild, screaming and jumping up and down.

“I never do anything without prior consent,” he grinned. “I’m a gentleman, until you tell me you want it otherwise.” He winked and the crowd screamed back. “I’m not saying I’m coming for Asmodeus’s job,” Abbadon said, draping himself over his guitarist’s shoulders, “but I’m no innocent. I don’t need protection.” He walked across the stage to Astraeus. “I’ve always been affectionate. But I think it’s time to be put the rumors to bed.”

“Oooooohhhhhh!” Asmodeus and Astraeus shouted and got the crowd to say it with them. Once they were loud enough, Azrael started rapidly tapping his drums to further build up tension.

Just when Abbadon was sure the tension couldn’t stretch much further he said, “I’m not a slut. I’m the slut!” The throng of people roared back. “And I’m not going to hide who I am to make myself palpable to people I’ve never met or no longer have any connection to me. I am Abbadon! I AM THE FALLEN!”

Waiting in the wings was Jeff and Eddie. They had gathered to watch Steve do this in person instead of watching it live in the green room.

Jeff cocked his head to the side and clicked his tongue. “Whatever else you think of Abbadon and the rest of the band, you have to admit the man has charisma.”

Eddie pressed his lips together and nodded. He was proud of Steve. Of course he was, but it did sting a little that it took Shane to get him to talk about it. Not him, Not Robin. Hell, not even Simon, whom Eddie thought was unhealthily close to Steve. Shane. Of all the band members, Shane had the least in common with Steve. Spence had the EMT thing, Simon, the upper class upbringing. Other than them liking metal, they couldn’t be further apart then if God planned it that way.

Shane came from a middle class liberal family with an older sister he was close with. Hell, he even still talked to his parents while Steve definitely did not. He was a giant nerd who loved history and myths. Steve struggled in school and only made it out alive because he was on three sports teams and captains of two of them. Shane even slept around to Steve’s search for ‘the one.’ Which Eddie really, really hoped was him.

But maybe that was it. Maybe the reason Shane could get through to Steve was because they didn’t have much in common. Maybe their connection were their differences. That they were friends in spite of the gap between them.

Eddie almost wanted to get Steve into therapy like Gareth was. Because even though it always seemed to him that Gareth was one drink away from destruction these days, the therapy did appear to be working.

Steve could really use something like that.

They watched the set a little bit longer.

“Are you sure you’re okay with Abbadon flirting with Gareth?” Jeff asked.

Eddie blinked for a moment wondering where the comment was coming from. Because, sure, Gareth had talked non-stop about Abbadon being his favorite member, even going as far as to tattoo Abbadon’s mask on his left bicep. But Gareth didn’t seem interested in Abbadon as a person.

And it wasn’t like Steve was really interested in him that way before or after becoming a rockstar.

“Gareth and Abbadon both say it’s fine,” he murmured after a moment or two. “And I trust Abbadon.”

Jeff hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah okay. So this time it’s not going to be the duet?”

“No, I don’t want a repeat of last time. Abbadon is going to be taking the lead vocals on ‘Might as Well Fly’, I think he’ll lend a haunting quality to it.”

Jeff pursed his lips. Steve definitely had the pipes for it, but it wasn’t the song out of their discography that he would have chosen for Abbadon to shred.

Eddie huffed beside him and crossed his arms in front of him. “Let me guess, you have other ideas?”

“Can Abbadon play guitar?” Jeff asked rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I guess. He’s like able to play piano, violin, and guitar. Can he play the song you’re thinking of is the real question.”

Jeff turned to him with a grin. “Oh, if I know our friend as well as I think I do, he knows it.”

Eddie frowned at him and cocked his head to the side. “Which one?”

Jeff told him and Eddie rubbed his lips, skeptical. It was a good song. Harder than ‘Might as Well Fly’ and faster too. It had an extra guitar to it because it originally featured a famous guitarist. But it was also the lead guitar on that song.

“Do you really think he can do it?” he asked, licking his upper lip slowly.

Jeff scoffed, “Why? Do you think he can’t?” Eddie just shrugged. “Because holy hell, dude, I was talking to Asmodeus and he was telling me they formed their band over their love of our music. I’m betting if you asked Abbadon he could list his favorite albums alphabetically, chronologically, or which one is best musically. Even before you guys got together, before their band, before we even got a record deal, he’s been your number one fan. And he’s got the chops for it. You know he does.”

Eddie looked around to make sure no one had heard Jeff’s impassioned speech. He ducked his head. “Have Abbadon meet us before we go on to discuss the change while they setup our equipment.”

Jeff grinned and licked his lips. “You won’t regret this. And neither will they.” He jutted his chin out at the roaring crowd.

And yeah, Eddie knew he was being ridiculous about the song. He was trying to play this safe, but Steve didn’t need safe right now. He needed to take back his agency and Eddie knew that this song? It was fucking perfect for Steve. They would be able to feed off the roar of the crowd and give Steve a chance to really show them how good he is.

~

Steve loved the idea of the change in song. Don’t get him wrong, he loved ‘Might as Well Fly’. It just wasn’t the vibe he was trying to send today. Steve already was flying. Now he was raging at the people who were trying to clip his wings. And fuck them.

It meant that he couldn’t start on Gareth’s lap, but that was okay. This was going to be better. A hell of a lot better.

He pulled on his Corroded Coffin logo lined coat and swapped his mask for the lighter everyday one. He was going to need the extra movement for these vocals. He started in the middle again, this time in front of Corroded Coffin instead of between them.

“Hey, Las Vegas!” Eddie cried. “You bitches ready to rock?”

The crowd screamed back and Eddie laughed. “We’ve got a treat for you tonight!” The crowd screamed even louder. “We don’t usually play ‘Nightmare Killer’ because we don’t have that third guitarist.”

The audience went wild, screaming and whistling and stomping their feet in excitement.

“We asked Asmodeus,” Eddie continued. “But he’s too cool for us!” The crowd made teasing booing noises and oohhed. “But that’s okay, we found someone else willing to play.”

The room fell to a hush as Abbadon’s spotlight came on. There was some uneasy wrestling from the audience as he stood with his ear mic and white guitar. Something that eagle-eyed fans would know about Eddie and Jeff was that they didn’t own a white guitar. And all The Fallen fans knew that all of Asmodeus’s guitars were red and vaguely devil themed. This wasn’t his either. This was clearly Abbadon’s.

Abbadon began the opening riff and the crowd took a massive intake of breath as he sailed perfectly through the chunky bits of the original artist’s style. Then he began to sing, the haunting quality of his voice filling in the gaps of the silence that seemed to stretch on from the audience.

Eddie didn’t even bother trying to hold back the look of admiration on his face as he joined Abbadon for the chorus. Their vocals mixing beautifully to the backdrop of a hell beast looking for more from life than the violence it was weaned on.

Throughout the song the only sounds from the crowd were clapping in time to the beat. Eddie had never seen anything like at their concerts before. It was like there was this reverence for what was happening on stage.

Abbadon ate it up and played it up as he enticed the members of Corroded Coffin to him. Each of the members resisted. Then Abbadon handed his guitar off to a roadie and climbed the stairs to the platform that Gareth was on. He straddled Gareth’s lap and drumming cut out as his bandmates played on. From behind it looked like they were kissing, but with Abbadon’s mic off they were making fun of each other. Then suddenly he whirled on Gareth’s lap and hit the drums right on the last note with a crash.

Then in an instant the crowd thundered to life, cheering and stomping and clapping.

Abbadon blew Gareth a kiss and leapt off the platform to take his bows. The flutter of the coat revealing the Corroded Coffin logo again and the crowd screamed even louder. He blew kisses to the crowd and continued to bow. Eddie whistled loudly and Abbadon laughed.

Eddie grabbed the microphone. “Abbadon everyone! One very talented son of bitch! Another round of applause everyone!”

The crowd continued to go wild. Abbadon let out a whoop and jumped up and down, laughing. It was exhilarating, everyone just feeding the energy back to Abbadon and just feeling high off that. Eddie and Jeff shared a glance and Jeff winked. Eddie shook his head. Because yeah, Jeff won that bet.

Abbadon waved goodbye and walked off the stage. Once he was out of view of the audience Hopper swooped in and immediately threw a cool, damp towel over his head and Steve nearly sank to his knees in relief. Because try as they might, the hoods were still fucking hot. Hopper lead him to the dressing room where the rests of The Fallen were waiting.

As soon as the door closed tightly behind Abbadon, Steve pushed back the hood and ripped off the mask. His hair was wet and sweat clung to his face and neck. He let himself sink slowly into the soft cushions of the sofa and laid his head back.

A bottled water was being pushed into his hand and an ice pack was placed on his brow. He let out a small shuddering breath. He opened the water and dumped half of it on his face and the rest into his mouth.

“Thanks, guys,” Steve muttered, his eyes fluttering shut. “How did I look out there?”

Simon huffed a little a laugh. “Like fucking rock god.”

“I’m with Simon,” Spence said. “It won’t silence the naysayers but it’ll drown them out which is even better.”

Steve laughed. “Fuck that was so much fun. Gareth called me a queen. So I called him a bitch. I honestly don’t know if he likes Abbadon more now, or less!”

“Considering how little time you had to prepare,” Shane said, sprawled over an armchair instead of on the floor for a change, “I say you kicked ass. You’re going to get people saying you weren’t really playing but, they can suck your dick!”

Steve lifted his head, the ice pack sliding into his hand. “I hate doing this without you guys, though,” he admitted. “But as Shane pointed out, I’m already super affectionate with you already and short of French kissing Simon, they aren’t going to believe shit.”

“Nothing against you, Steve,” Simon said with a wince, “but I really don’t want your tongue down my throat.”

Shane raised his hand. “I volunteer! I volunteer!”

They all laughed. Then Robin as Celeste slipped in and sat next to Steve. She grabbed the ice pack and pressed it to the back of her neck. They all waited as she let her defenses slowly come down. She pulled off the wig and tossed it Spence who caught it deftly.

“Vickie has been working tirelessly tonight to keep an eye on social media,” Robin began, “she even has two of her assistants watching all the accounts, constantly refreshing.”

Steve turned on the couch to face her. “And what are they saying?”

Simon and Spence immediately moved over to her to sit on either side of her and Steve. Shane sprawled over the back like some Renaissance painting. He rustled her hair and she huffed out a laugh.

“You’re getting the trolls from both fans shit talking about how Abbadon is better than Corroded Coffin and should have turned them down like Asmodeus,” she continued, pausing only for Simon’s huff of laughter. “The Corroded Coffin fans were whining about how Abbadon’s vocals ruined the song and that he probably faking the guitar playing for the views.”

“I’d like to see them fake that bridge,” Steve scoffed. “It’s insane.”

Simon nodded. “I don’t think I could do it.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll post a Tiktok of me trying to play it.”

“Wait!” Spence said. “Have Steve do it first, showing a close up of the hands dancing on the frets. Then you stitch it with your version. That should kick them in the ass.”

Steve and Simon fist bumped each other. “Hell yeah!”

“But the rest of the tweets and shit coming in is overwhelmingly positive,” Robin finished. “So that Tiktok should silence the Corroded Coffin fans.”

When Simon did his stitch of Steve’s video he made sure to admonish their fans about thinking who’s better than who. He was friends with the boys in CC and the being ‘too cool’ was a fucking joke.

Then Eddie did a stitch of both of their videos and showed them again how complicated the riff was for Abbadon to play by playing it himself. Abbadon and Asmodeus’s videos racked up a lot of views and shares, but Eddie’s really did the numbers. It blew up and completely overshadowed all the haters.

Steve made sure to thank Eddie for that later in the privacy of Eddie’s hotel room.

~

Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[petersbaby]

Share Her - Eddie Munson x sweet/dumb!reader x stepbro!steve

Warnings: reader is naïve, stepcest, Steve and Eddie are both perverts, fingering, use of sir, cum talk, smut

A/N: I need to update my masterlist, it’s pretty far behind. But bleh, not tonight. Whenever I get back on my computer

-

“Here you go.” You say, handing a cold can of beer to both boys who requested them. They weren’t doing much of anything besides watching TV in the basement, but you didn’t mind having to go all the way to the kitchen for them, you loved Steve and his friend was nice to you, so of course you’ll do something if they ask you to.

Steve frowns.

“What?” You ask, confused.

“This isn’t what I wanted. There are 2 different kinds in the fridge in there, bring me the other one. It’ll have a different label.”

You head back up the stairs, leaving your step brother and his best friend to themselves for a moment which they take advantage of.

“There’s no fucking way you’re not hitting that. Jesus Christ, I couldn’t live with her. I’d be hard 24 fucking 7.”

“I mean, yeah, eds i am but that’s not something we should say out loud.”

“YOU ARE?”

“Shut up, dude. Why do you care, you wanna piece of her?”

“Fuck yes. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

“Alright. I’ve got her wrapped around my finger, I’ll make sure you get some. Not without me, though, because she’s attached to me.”

“Fuck it, whatever makes her comfortable. Those goddamn shorts.”

“Yeah, I know. Sometimes I’m convinced she knows what she’s doing. LOVES attention.”

Their voices fell silent when you come back down. Steve pats the seat next to him, and you sit. They take the new beers and crack them open, sipping (rather loudly, you think) them.

You sit down beside Steve.

“Baby, come here.” Steve says, opening his arms. He exchanges looks with Eddie who sits on the other side of the couch.

“Okay.”

You climb on top of him, into his lap, settling down.

He pulls your face closer to his and kisses you deeply. You indulge for a moment, but pull away. You nod towards Eddie and give Steve an expression like ‘we’re not alone’.’

“It’s okay, Eddie over here doesn’t mind. Do ya, eds?”

“N- no, not at all.”

“Take your shirt off, okay?” Steve asks.

You nod, pulling in off of your body. Eddie takes in your mostly bare form.

“Bra too.”

You reach behind your back to unclasp it and let it fall off your shoulders.

“Jesus Christ.” You hear from a short distance away. Eddie was painfully hard from seeing your bare chest and torso, trying to inconspicuously rub himself through his jeans. He sits and watches as you and Steve kiss, the way you straddle his thigh and start to hump it.

“You wanna do something for me?” Steve asks you quietly. You nod. Of course you do.

“Go give some love to my friend over here, okay? He thinks you’re beautiful.”

You smile. “Oh, okay.” And crawl over to Eddie.

“Kiss?” You ask, head tilted, wanting to hear he wanted it from his own mouth.

“Mhm.” He hums, and you lean in. He was shocked at how intense you were, no softness to your kiss, depraved.

Steve chuckles. “There ya go, baby.”

You soon had your tongue deep in his mouth, trying to work with his. Eddie grabs your hips, snaking them around back so he could take two handfuls of your ass.

“Mmh,” you whimpered when he pushed you down against his erection.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks into the kiss.

“Yes….” You trail off, pausing, looking around and then at steve. He reads your mind easily.

“Oh, she wants to know what to call you. ‘Daddy’, ‘sir’, that type of thing.” Steve offers.

You turn back to Eddie and look at him, waiting.

“Jesus Christ. You are so good, aren’t you? How about you pick?” Eddie asks.

“Sir.” You whisper.

“Sounds good to me.” He smiles, almost wickedly.

You reach down to start fussing with his belt buckle, struggling. He gently swats your hands away and undoes it himself. You get off of him momentarily so he can push his jeans and boxers down his legs, and you take off your pajama shorts. In the meantime, you look over.

“Stevie?”

“Yeah?”

“Come closer. Please.”

“Alright, princess.”

He scoots over to sit right next to Eddie after you crawl back into his lap.

Eddie reaches between your legs in search of a damp spot on your panties which he found quickly.

“Holy shit.” He comments, immediately pushing them to the side and slipping a finger into you.

“Right? Like a goddamn water park.” Steve comments back.

He lays back at watches his friend’s finger disappear inside your soaked pussy over and over. You start to slightly move up and down, trying to get more from the measly finger but failing.

Eddie notices, and gives you a second one, curling it deep inside you. Your mouth falls open, lips parted. You look at Steve as your eyebrows furrow in pleasure, wanting him to still pay attention to you.

“Kiss, stevie?” You ask between sighs and small moans coming from the way Eddie’s working you with his fingers. Steve leans in and you press your lips against his, kissing him sweetly and putting a hand on the side of his face. Despite the lewd situation, it was a soft little kiss. Just one as if to say ‘I love you’ without words.

“Ah, feels so good,” you pant.

“Good. That’s all Eddie here wants, to make you feel good.”

“Really?” You ask, turning to Eddie, who’s staring at your tits. Steve punches him in the shoulder.

“What? Oh, yeah, really. You think you can take my cock?”

“Yes sir.”

You get up to slip your panties off quickly, returning to your spot. You put one hand on Steve’s shoulder just to know he’s there, and one on Eddie’s chest, and you sink down onto his cock. It’s big, and it hurts enough to make you gasp, but not enough to stop. You feel the stretch and you know he feels it too.

“Ahhhh, shit. Oh, holy shit, baby.”

“Am I good?”

“So good. The best. This little pussy feels like it was made for me, fits like a glove.”

You start to move a little, getting used to the full feeling, and build up momentum slowly. You ball up a fistful of Steve’s t shirt in your hand and hold it as you start riding Eddie.

Now bouncing up and down, you mewl and cry, whining about how big it is. This only makes it more unbearable for him, desperately wanting to cum right that second. He continues to watch your tits bounce up and down, as did Steve. He looked so proud.

Eventually, you started to slow, growing tired. Eddie takes over, fucking up into you while you just hover. He hits your special spot over and over again, leaving you so overwhelmed you were almost crying real tears. That’s only intensified when he brings his thumb down to rub quick circles on your clit while he fucks you, and it only takes a minute.

“Oh, Eddie, I need to- please, sir.” You cry.

Eddie doesn’t immediately respond.

“She wants permission, eds. Won’t cum without it.” Steve reminds him.

“Yes, yes baby you can cum. Come on.”

“Oh, hold my hand, stevie.”

Your hand finds his and you lock your fingers together. When you tumble over the edge, you squeeze Steve’s hand tight.

“There you go, good girl.” He coos, comforting you through it.

“God- it got even tighter. Can’t fuckin’- ahh.”

Eddie pulls out of you very suddenly, giving his cock a couple of quick strokes before cumming all over your lower stomach and his hand. It kept on coming, he had so much built up just for you.

You marveled at the way it felt so warm and wet on your skin and the way it made his hand so sticky and shiny. You let go of Steve’s hand, and he gets up to go to another room. He re-emerges quickly with a towel, tossing it to Eddie who cleans you off first.

When you’re dry, you get out of his lap, and jump back into your little shorts and throw your shirt back on, cuddling into Steve who had sat back down in his original place on the other side of the couch. He pets your hair while you catch your breath, reassuring and praising you.

“You did so good for my friend, princess. That was very nice of you. Sharing for me.”

“Thank you.” You snuggle into his chest.

On the opposite side, Eddie was struggling. It had gotten in more places than just his fist, his legs too.

“Uhh, shit. Can I take a shower, dude? I think that’d be easier.”

“Yeah, you know where it is.” Steve nods.

“You sleepy?” He asks you, once you’re alone again.

“Mm. A little.”

“Let’s get you to bed then, and you can rest.”

You look up at him, sad. You didn’t want to be detached from his side but you also knew he was hanging out with someone already. He notices you thinking and pouting.

“You wanna know a secret?” He whispers, picking you up.

“Of course I do, stevie.” You answer softly.

“I’ll see you again. I might have to sneak off to your bedroom once Eddie falls asleep, might need you to take care of me.”

“Ooh. Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

“No no, just go to sleep. It’ll be late, you’ll wake up when you hear me come in. And I’ll just slip right into your bed with you.”

“Okay.” You nod. He eventually gets you all the way upstairs to your room even though you could walk just fine, setting you down and pressing a wet kiss to your forehead. You smile and blush, watching him as he walks away, flipping the light off before closing your door.

[paddockbunny]

Repeat Offender

Summary : Charles is recently single and quickly finds himself in a "friends with benefits" situation with none other than his ex-girlfriend's best friend.

Rating : 18+, Mature

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x Reader

Word Count : 7, 345

Trigger Warnings : 18+, Mature & Adult themes, Angsty, FWB situation, PinV sex, Unprotected sex, Oral (female receiving), slight choking, c*m talk & language

Authors Note : Firstly, I had around five or six requests for a newly single charles or rebounding charles so I've amalgamated them all into one. Thank you for the inspo to all of those who requested something to do with this. I'm trying out some first person stuff on this one so although it's labelled as "reader" YOU are in fact the author/reader if that makes sense. I also don't mention Charles' ex by name and that is very much on purpose as I keep my blog as IRL WAG free as possible so none of my stories will feature any of their names, hope you can all understand why. Anyway, this is LOOOOOONG so it has not been proofread yet.

You know when you wake up but your not fully awake yet, you’re like conscious but not alert? Well, that was exactly how I was feeling as the room was ever so slightly spinning and the faint memory of strawberry daiquiri's and vodka shots were beginning to flash across my eyes. So was the deafening sound of the music, the ache in the arches of my feet from stupid heels and the feeling of hands creeping around my waist pulling my ass against a firm crotch while dancing. Then as I slowly crept more and more into consciousness I felt the slight ache from my thighs kick in and the feeling my body had been through it.

Finally, after summoning up the energy to do it, I managed to open my eyes. They felt heavy and dense and I realised there was no way I had made it home because I had slept in my make-up - and regardless of whatever state I was in I would always manage to stumble into the bathroom to at least wipe most of the night out greasepaint off of my face so the fact it was still firmly in place meant the worst. As my vision was struggled to focus I wriggled around in a rather comfortable bed and attempted to pull myself up without a wave of nausea lash upon me. Exactly how much did I fucking drink last night? But then as eventually my eyes concentrated on something and a very loud groan reverberated from my throat. The familiar bright coloured art work that hung from the white wall across from the bottom of the bed was like a vicious, unwelcome enemy. I had studied it far too many times to count and each time it got worse and worse. It was like the eyes of T. J Eckleburg in The Great Gatsby, but instead of the judgment of an inanimate object upon American society, this horrendous painting was judging my piss poor decisions of the night prior which lead me to waking up in this damn bed, once again. And as my stomach lurched I had to force myself to make sure I was in the bed of the man whom the awful painting belonged to.

At an almost glacier pace my head began to turn. Crawling up the sheet clad outline of a pair of calves, knees and up to big, broad thighs and into the covered - yet barely - crotch. The outline of his cock almost visible through the white cotton that was practically failing to protect his modesty. His hips were next, then the outline of abs which yeah ok - I can admit it, I’ve traced with my tongue before so sue me. Then I couldn’t do it any longer. I was just drawing things out. I snapped my head immediately up to his and yup! It was Charles.

“Oh fuck!” I groaned loudly and with an eye roll I drew my hands over my face. Listen, you might be thinking “he’s fucking hot as hell, probably an incredible shag and I’d love to know how big his cock is” but, it’s all the other stuff that goes along with these nights of drunken yet passionate sex with Charles that makes me sick to my stomach each time I wake up here. You see Charles had so much awkward baggage that spilled over into my own life and I really went through several stages of self loathing when I left his apartment and had the embarrassing walk of shame home the next day. “Good morning to you too.” He scoffed loudly but by this point I knew he probably felt as guilt-ridden and dismayed as I felt.

Silence had momentarily befallen us. All I heard was the quick typing of his thumbs hitting his phone screen. It was almost annoying. That incessant tap, tappy tappy tappy, tap, tap as he typed whatever was in his head into a text or whatever he was doing. I couldn’t help it, I rolled my eyes and thought how likely it was that he was probably texting one of his friends telling them how the pair of us had hooked up AGAIN! Most likely he was asking for their advice on how to get me out of his bed. Not that he needed any because there was no way in hell I felt like staying. I wanted to get out of here as badly and he wanted to kick me out. Just as I moved to sit upright a bit more and try search for my stomach lurched and I had to take a few deep breaths not to feel the effects of last nights alcohol. Something which unfortunately Charles noticed and as he asked if I was suffering from a the dreaded hangover, sarcasm laced thick in his voice.

“Why does this always happen? Why do we do this?” I sighed while letting out a long, drawn out exhale. The question hung in the air and I could feel Charles’ eyes suddenly burrowing into the side of my head. I knew there were words teetering on the tip of his tongue and could practically hear his brain working out a response that sounded appropriate for me but thankfully, he remained in silence. There was no doubt he would have been regretting whatever things happened last night as much as I was and yet, he didn’t seem particularly consumed by guilt. He seemed rather carefree right now so scoff I closed my eyes in an attempt to piece the puzzle together remember what the fuck happened last night.

The music was far too loud but the fourth fruity cocktail I currently clasped in my hand made me rather immune and numb to it. I danced just like all the other girls out in the middle of the crowded dance floor. Hips swaying side to side in time with the rhythm. Hair swishing around without a care in the world. Feet aching in stupid stilettos. To have looked at me in that moment anyone would be forgiven for thinking I was a party girl. One of those glamorous girls always out on the town, partying, blowing cash (boys and snow* too probably) but really I hated going out. I hated the stress of finding something to wear, doing the whole routine of make-up and hair and then feeling like I was in the middle of a cattle market. At least the men in Monaco happened to be rich and therefore no girls spent a dime all night from all the free drinks that would get bought. And the fact that someone in my group always seemed to know someone else in another and that meant VIP was inevitable. And I mean come on, who wouldn’t want to be sat in VIP?! Which was funnily enough, where Amelie was pulling me in the direction of and then I sighed when I saw why.

Sat in a booth was none other than Charles and his gang of buddies that I really wish would have been anywhere else in the world tonight and not in this nightclub. As soon as he looked around and saw me heading toward him I swear he rolled his eyes.

“Fucking hello to you too Charles.” I thought, muttering under my breath while I and rolled my own eyes back at him sarcastically. And that was when my mind flashed back to the last time we saw each other. It had been at that shitty dinner where I actually felt sorry for him having to sit the whole night flashing googly eyes at his ex girlfriend hoping she would notice him even though the night before he had had his cock shoved down my throat, me! The one he spent the entire time ignoring. But the thing was, I knew one thing he didn’t and that was she was already moving on with someone who might have been too close too home for him to even comprehend. Yet, with his attitude I said nothing and allowed him to remain in purgatory. Sad thing was, she never even so much as glanced at him the whole meal. Then I remembered what happened after, once everyone had drank heavily and shared cars home. It hadn’t been the first time (nor the second, third or fourth and was actually more like the eleventh or twelfth) that Charles had put the moves on me and I stupidly succumbed to his seductions. But now as I reached the table the thought of his hands being between my thighs, his fingers caressing my desperate clit with the door to his apartment wide open behind us in an utterly voyeuristic display - one that I would never have pegged him as the type to enjoy - danced teasingly through my thoughts. He slid into the booth a little more and nodded in the direction of the now vacant faux leather seat beside him for me to sit in. He looked good tonight and for once that wasn’t the alcohol in my system talking. He seemed to be in good spirits and I figured he must have been celebrating a good race. It was neutral ground so I thought it was something I could talk to him about. When I went to open my mouth to do exactly so, my words were swallowed by his; “Have you seen her recently?” Your mouth parted slightly before closing. You had to bite your tongue before you said something to the effect of “fuck off” or “fuck you” and quickly shook your head to respond to him. Then loudly from across the table one of his friends shouted loudly “shots” and thankfully it distracted Charles from pushing the conversation toward her like he wanted.

Several shots were taken and yet another strong strawberry daiquiri was being drunk while having as everyone sat at the table has as much of a conversation as possible over the loud thumping music. I raised my voice as I leaned forward to answer one of the questions Charles’ friends had asked me. We had met before and yet he did that typical male thing of forgetting who I was and therefore I had to tell him all over again much to my slight annoyance and dismay. But as I was explaining what I did for a living, I stuttered when suddenly I felt the flesh of soft fingertips ghost up and down my bare naked thigh. The action almost made me brake my calm, collected exterior. He couldn’t be serious? We had barely spoken since I sat down nearly an hour ago and as his thumb stroked up and down the skin of my inner thigh I glanced at him. He wasn’t even paying attention, he was doing it just for the sake of it, because he could. And so without a single thought I decided it was time to go and dance again. I wanted to put distance between him and I because we would only end up doing what was by now becoming a habit and falling into bed together.

As I grabbed Amelie and pulled her back to dance with me, I could feel the familiar pulsating throb from between my thighs at the thought of Charles. I tried to push the thoughts of him out of my brain as I began dancing and yet, it was a pointless task as all I kept thinking about was how badly I needed him and how he melted all of my annoyed thoughts of him away with a simple touch of his damn hand. The worst part was, just as Amelie and I settled into moving our bodies one of Charles’ friends rudely pushed between us. I was just about to argue and tell him to get lost when I suddenly felt hands creep around my waist. I didn’t need to look to know who they belonged too and I realised the intrusion in between me and my dance partner had been orchestrated.

“Running away from me?” Charles purred against the side of my neck. Why did he do this? Every single time we saw each other he always got underneath my skin. I hated him for it but I felt powerless against him and his cocky seduction techniques. His hands gripped my waist tighter as he pulled me back so I was flush against him. Our hips moving side to side while he got all the friction of my ass grinding against his crotch. “We said the last time was the last time.” “No. You did.” His words were more direct than I would have expected them to be. Almost like he was annoyed at me for implying I was about to turn him down - as if I could if I wanted too, just having the teasing action of his clothed cock so close to where I wanted it would have had me making a public embarrassment of myself right here in a nightclub. And without warning he used those lingering hands to turn me around to face him. “Let me take you home.” “No, Charles. We cannot keep doing this.” The sheer fact that when I spoke to him he was looking at my mouth instead of in my eyes made me want to kick him in the shin for being so vexing. But right as I was trying to convince myself to stand my ground against him he cast his eyes across my body and fuck, the things it did to me when he looked at me like that. “Charles, we’re playing with fire….”

“So? We’ll both burn together.” He shrugged nonchalantly. And I suddenly realised how we were no longer dancing and simply standing staring at each other while everyone else around us continued. In a regular situation - when alcohol wasn’t coursing through my body clouding my judgment - I would have felt self conscious but right now all I could think about was the fact he wanted me so badly he was out here making bold declarations. For a second the fact his first words to me earlier were about his ex girlfriend entered into my mind and a fleeting crushing feeling passed through my soul. He just wanted me to release his tension, not because he ACTUALLY wanted me. I zoned out briefly as I thought of how bad I always felt the next day and considered if I was strong enough to do it again. But as I was contemplating his hand travelled up to my neck and he made me look at him and I was gone. I wanted him to make me feel good.

How he managed to get us both out of the nightclub so easily I had no idea. His hand was wrapped around my wrist guiding me past hordes of people and out toward an exit. It took all but two minutes until we were in the back of a car heading back to his. It seemed too swift to me, too well thought out and I realised that he was so arrogant because he knew I would say yes and probably pre-arranged the car to pick us up. In that second I knew I should have been so pissed off and angry that he would think I was that easy but I let it slip again because I knew I was using him as much as he was using me. I liked the momentary, fleeting high he gave me. I was like a drug taker, he was the drug, and I was willing to take the short hits when I could. So I was every bit as bad as he was. Charles normally didn’t behave to politely in the back of the cars we took as we went back to his. His hands would be roaming, following suit with his mouth. He always made sure to light the match inside of me before we even got to the safety of his apartment. The fact he could be caught out, someone could tell, seemed to always be the furthest thing from his mind and so tonight, it was different. He sat further away and kept his hands very much to himself. And when I couldn’t help but glance across the car toward him and watched as his jaw seemed to clench I swallowed while nerves buzzed through my brain.

As soon as we got to his apartment building Charles called for the elevator and I couldn’t help but feel the same attitude radiating from him. It was the same attitude he had in the car and I thought about turning on my heels and leaving immediately. I didn't even know how to read him. Which meant I was so caught in the thought of trying to work him out that I missed the ding of the lift stopping on the lobby and sliding open. It wasn’t until Charles practically purred my name and held his hand out for me from inside the elevator that I snapped back into reality due to the look that filled his eyes. You knew it all too well. It was self assured, cocky confidence. He knew I couldn’t turn him down, I couldn’t turn his cock down, I craved it and what he could do with it too much. And so when my high heel clad feet crossed the marble floor and passed the iron thread hold of the lift I felt the surge of excitement buzz throughout my body.

The pair of us rode the elevator is silence but my hand remained firmly gripped in Charles’ and his thumb was delicately running over the back of my knuckles. It would be almost fucking romantic if there was any smidgen of a “normal” relationship between us. Now that I had registered the buzz of excitement I also felt the more steady and familiar hit of anxiety that went with it. It was pre-sex anxiety - that realistically I had no reason to have, this wasn’t my first rodeo (certainly not with Charles) but I still had it anyway. The silence would have been deafening to anyone else but right now I was kind of thankful for it. I didn’t want to chat because if I did I would feel guilt and I really didn’t want to feel guilty about what my body craved and desired above all else. The short ride up to Charles’ apartment ended when the lift door slid open and he gently pulled me out behind him. Fuck, I wish I had drunk more. Alcohol would have banished the unfair apprehension I was feeling. I leaned against the wall while Charles opened the door with his key. The curve of his shoulders made my mouth water. The thought of kissing his thick, strong neck while hearing the sound of pleasurable moans escape him sent a pulsating ache through my core. He pushed open the door and held it there with his hand, waiting for me to enter his abode first, ahead of him. And I mustered up all the confidence I could manage to saunter past him and glide into the hallway. The millions he took home from his career driving in fast circles paid off. Charles home was beautiful but like always, I wasn’t here to appreciate it.

Charles hands on my bare arms reminded me of that. He pressed against me from behind and I could feel his semi hard cock already straining against his jeans and I tried desperately to hold it back but a gasp escaped passed my lips as he moved my hair to the side to expose my neck to him. Fuck. The feel of his lips as they pressed delicate tender kisses against my flesh had my mind whirling. I pushed back into him more, instinct completely taking over, and a low groan rolled out of his parted lips and sent tingles up and down my spine. It was dangerous to have allowed myself to think it but I gave in and thought about how it would feel to have been his - properly, as a girlfriend - for all but a few fleeting seconds.

When Charles hands moved from my arms to my waist and I wasted no time. The alcohol came rushing back to me and I turned to him at breakneck speed. My lips finding his immediately. As my hands slowly glided upon the skin of his neck holding him to me. When I let out a small moan it was the sign he needed to start pushing me backward till my back pressed against a cold wall and his tongue pushed into my mouth. He tasted like the liquor he had consumed and as his tongue ran teasingly across my bottom lip he followed it with his teeth and it brought another moan from me, like he knew it would. Charles’ hands left my waist and I felt them slip down to my legs. His fingers skimming the outside of my thighs. I knew he wanted to push my dress up. He was growing impatient and that became very obvious when he yanked me away from the wall and pulled me through his house to his bedroom. The familiar surroundings welcomed me like a sneaky comrade. The walls practically smirked as I was pulled in by Charles. I could become accustomed to these plush surroundings if he saw me as more than a just a hook-up but that was a fucking dumb idea.

My dress was off faster than I knew what was happening. It was around my ankles on the floor and Charles was already making fast work of removing his shirt. His eyes hungrily fixed on my bare chest. He was practically wolf like as his eyes remained on my skin the whole time. I would have blushed if I had been less confident. “Take them off.” It was the first time he spoke since we had left the club. “You heard me.” He flashed his eyes down toward the thin scrap of black lace material that could barely behold the name of underwear. As my eyes travelled down to where his hands were working on ridding himself of his jeans I realised I wasn’t ready to allow him to have all the fun. “No.” I stated. “Take them off me.” My stomach flipped and I watched as a smirk disappeared from his face as quick as it appeared.

“That’s how you want it huh?” He abandoned trying to remove his jeans and his hand suddenly went to my neck and held me firmly before he used it to push me backward on to the bed. My heart hastily quickened. It hammered against my rib cage so quickly it began to hurt. I looked up at him full of expectation but he wasted no time in hooking his fingers around the sides of the only material left on my body and roughly pulling them down my legs and off completely. I watched Charles as he took me in. His eyes casting over and lingering in all the important areas. I bit my bottom lip as my own eyes mimicked his and I took in his perfectly sculpted chest and then his defined muscular abs. The lines on his hips that were line a tempting signal down toward his now erect cock, standing to full attention. He watched me watching him and cockily laughed. “Go on.” He tilted his head and I knew exactly what he was referring too. He wanted head. He wanted me to blow him. And I would have, I would have blown him till my jaw ached and throat couldn’t take anymore, but I reminded him that he wasn’t getting full control.

Much to Charles surprise, I pulled my ankles up and put myself on full display for him. I played him at his own game. If he wanted me to go down on him he had to do it first. I held his gaze and so when he laughed again I wasn’t so sure he was as willing to be a giver as much as a taker, but within a few agonising moments he proved me wrong. Charles was down on his knees and instantly pulled your legs up so you could rest them on his shoulders. And although it was something of an embarrassing confession to make, all of the times we had had sex, Charles had never gone down on me. Not once. So now that his head was between my thighs, mouth so tantalisingly close, eyes locked on to mine, I held my breath in anticipation. Charles gently ran his fingers up and down my dampening folds. I swallowed the breath that was caught in my throat as Charles finally licked a slow, teasing stripe that followed the pattern of his fingers moments earlier. He repeated the action over and over again. Using it to torment me. My hands grabbed hold of the sheets, fingers entwined in the high thread count duvet, when Charles began to pay attention to my pulsating, throbbing clit. Small, short flutters were mixed in with strong kisses. And then a loud exhale left my lips as he pushed two of his fingers inside me.

“Char….” I couldn’t get his name out. My breathing was erratic and all I could think about was what his mouth was doing. As his tongue continued lapping at my clit, his fingers curled up inside of me and Charles immediately found and started massaging that magical spot that made me gasp. And he continued even when I shoved my hands through his hair and gripped on for dead life. My eyes squeezed tightly shut as I felt the first high of an orgasm fast approaching. Swear words were all I could manage. My mouth going between wide open to get as much air as I possibly could and tightly shut with my top teeth digging into my bottom lip practically drawing blood. I was almost so lost in the beginning of the wave of euphoric pleasure that I missed the moan Charles made as he felt my walls start to convulse around his fingers. Fuck. How and why did I not beg for him to do this to me sooner? He was far too good at it. It was borderline obscene how good he was at it. And totally criminal that he had never gone down on me before. Right as I felt every nerve in my body begin to be ignited with the high of a climax Charles removed his mouth and in its place used the fingers of his other hand to draw rapid circles against my clit. The motion made me loose complete control of my mind and his name burst free from my mouth as wave upon wave of ecstasy crashed upon me. The high was undeniable. It took hold of my body and I felt myself quivering as he slipped his fingers out of me, covered in the product of my orgasm.

“Look at me.” Charles voice came quietly but strongly and I did as he requested. I opened my eyes and looked down at where he still remained, between my thighs. He held my stare as he ran the fingers he had brought me to orgasm with back up and down my now dripping folds. A small tremor shuddered through my thighs as he did so. And then with my eyes trained straight on his he raised his fingers to his mouth and licked them. It took a second to register the feeling that I felt in that moment but as he raised to his feet and I saw his cock rock hard, with its purpling tip already leaking pre-cum, I knew it was one that filled me with unashamed excitement. “Turn over.” He demanded and I relinquished the control I had won earlier so easily. Not because he wanted me too but because I wanted too. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than for Charles to fucking rail me into oblivion. I turned and got on all fours on the bed. Ass facing him. It was a position I had come to realise was one of his favourites. Sure he liked watching my boobs bounce as I rode him cowgirl and sometimes if he was feeling slightly more tired he’d fuck missionary, but Doggy was his favourite (like most guys). The momentary lapse of concentration earned me a firm thwack of his hand against the round flesh of my ass. I yelped and lunged forward and I felt the enjoyment radiating off of him. I doubted she let him do that, I doubted she would have enjoyed it. I moaned and after I wiggled my hips around a little he did it again so that a more audible whimper left my mouth.

“Fuck me…” I knew it was what he wanted to hear so I gave it to him. “Please, Charles….” I added more good measure and sure enough, he pulled my hips back and immediately ran his leaking cock over my sensitive folds to collect the mixture of his spit and my juices.

As he lined up at my entrance and pushed the head of his cock inside of me, teasingly slowly, I pushed back for more. It was an action that I knew he would have enjoyed and he groaned as he gave me more of himself. His hand splayed on my lower back and forced me down into the mattress more so I arched for him and then he gave me all of himself. He bottomed out and the stretch from his girthy cock had me once again gasping and gripping the sheets. He stalled for a moment - savouring the feeling no doubt - before he began moving. Slow at first. A steady but slow rhythm that I needed, rather than wanted, to quickly increase. Charles moaned loudly and paused for a second only to surprise me completely. “Your pussy is so fucking perfect. You, are so fucking perfect.” I knew he didn’t mean it in THAT way - he didn’t like me like that, I knew that and he didn’t even need to verbalise it - but his praise made me feel good all the same. I wriggled my hips again to urge him to move and when he did his pace increased. It increased until I was a panting writhing mess. I loved how big he felt at this angle and how he would alternate between giving me quick, short spanks and pulling my hair. And honestly I truly had to focus so I didn’t cum just yet. His cock continually hitting my g-spot could have made me see stars but I didn’t want to give in yet. I wanted more of him so I urged him on my moaning his name over and over and over again through heavy sighs. His hand wrapped itself around my hair once again and this time he pulled me back so my back was flush against him.

“Say my name again.” His voice was lower than I had ever heard it before. Lower than I ever thought possible. The hand that had been wrapped around my long hair was now around my throat, holding my in place against his body as he continued thrusting up into me. I couldn’t focus on words. I just kept thinking about Charles’ lips being on my neck and feeling how fast my heart was going through the vein they lingered upon. His teeth grazed the flesh and his name whimpered across my lips a few times before he finally called me a “good girl” and I almost lost my mind between that and the angle his cock was at. He had to know how close I was. He had to feel how my pussy tightened around his cock and I was beginning to struggle to keep going. His teeth sunk into my shoulder and he groaned as I couldn’t stop the orgasm that came thrashing down upon me. I grabbed his arm so tightly my fingernails would leave marks upon his skin. My whole body convulsed as finally I let go and let the climax take hold of me. The high Charles had given me seemed to be otherworldly and stratospheric. It took me to another fucking planet and none more so than when he groaned, gripped my hips and held me down in place while he himself, found release. I could feel the pulse of his cock inside of me as his hot, milky cum poured out of him. The feeling was insurmountable. The twitch of him as he filled me up seemed the prolong my orgasm even longer and when the shakes that ravaged my body became too much, I couldn’t keep my knees from giving way and so finally fell forward against the bed again. All I could hear was Charles and I’s heavy, exhausted breathing.

As Charles settled down beside me on the bed he ran his hands up and down my back. It was a rather tender, sweet motion for someone who had just railed me into oblivion but I didn’t mind it. Suddenly as I found myself lying still - still recovering from those two incredible orgasms - I felt the alcohol from earlier catch up on me. The room seemed a bit spiny and I really didn’t want to throw up anywhere in Charles all white apartment. But then - right on queue - with his breathing still laboured Charles asked if I wanted anything and suggested a towel and a glass of water. Not to sound like a broken fucking record but this was new, he had never done this before. He had never really spoken after we had fucked so this was totally left field. I nodded and said both would be nice if he didn’t mind.

“Ok, be right back.” I listened to his words but stayed in the same position as I had earlier - mainly because I was scared of being sick and because now I was completely exhausted but also because I didn’t want Charles’ cum to leak out of me and go all over his extortionate sheets. I thought the action of him going to get me things would have been nice for a normal, regular girl (y’know, one he was dating) but seemed unusual for him to extend such gestures to me, his fuck buddy, his hook-up, his piece of ass. When he finally came back clutching an ice cold glass of water and a warmed damp towel for me to clean up with I expected him to hand me my dress as well. But my dress remained on the floor and he stared down at me while I drank from the glass. “Let me.” He motioned when I went for the towel. Charles took the glass from me and placed it on the floor before crouching down there himself. I was about to question him, ask him what he thought he was doing, when he lifted one of my legs and slowly parted them. My breathing all but stopped as he dabbed at my slightly red, a little bit tender pussy with the warm cloth. I let out an unsteady, unsure exhale of air as he watched his cum slowly seep out of me.

“Hmmm….” He purred “I should have told you my pull out game is weak.” He chuckled and in that singular moment he made me laugh. He sat back on his heels and laughed with me and all of the nervous energy in my body disappeared. All I could focus on was the sound of his laughter and how much I liked it and in a different life I would have wanted to hear it every single day for an eternity.

I rushed to try and find my dress, hoping that he hadn’t torn this one like last time. I wanted to spend the least amount of time naked in front of him as possible now snapshots of last night began coming back to me. Charles observed from his place in bed. Watching me as I sprinted around to get back into last nights clothes so I could leave. As the sunlight streamed in through his window it bathed us both in the cold harsh reality of the day and it was very much bringing a self loathing vibe along with it. Suddenly a wave of riotous nausea flashed upon me and my head felt like it belonged in a vice. Through clenched teeth I rubbed my forehead from the searing pain screaming throughout it

“Can I get you painkillers?” His voice had turned soft and was rather strange because it wasn’t what I was used too from him - or was that the narrative my own brain made up for me to believe he was a metaphorical bad guy? “Don’t do that, Charles. Don’t be nice to me.” “Why?” He acted so innocent and I knew he was putting on a front, there was no way he could be so stupid. “Because!” I practically shrieked, “I’m your ex-girlfriend’s best friend and we can’t stop fucking each other.” “I think you’ll probably be her ex-best friend if she finds out about us.” FUCK! He really didn’t need to hit me with the reality stick right now. The smugness was almost woven through his voice and I had to restrain myself from throttling him. But in reality the cold light of day made me feel angry and disappointed with myself, something I doubted he felt about this situation at all.

“That’s not going to happen.” I snap back at him. “Because there is no “us”, there never will be an “us.” Your voice lowered and you knew it sounded sadder than you intended. It didn’t stop Charles from continuing however. “Right…..” he rolled his eyes “until you’ve had too many strong cocktails and vodka shots and then you won’t be able to say no. Just like you always.” With his words lingering in the air I had to fight the urge to yell at him that I was never the instigator and he was the one who always came after me. I desperately wanted to fucking correct him and scream at him that he used me to forget about his ex, about Ferrari, about all the pressures of the life he leads and that it was HIM that sought ME out, not the other way around. But for some unknown reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to start an argument with him. I pulled on my dress hurriedly once I found it, no longer wanting to be so naked in front of him. All I wanted was to get the embarrassing walk of shame back to my apartment over already. I busied myself from the silence by looking for my shoes and I almost missed Charles getting out of bed and getting dressed.

“I’ll give you a ride home.” I heard him say as I pulled up the covers and found my black heel under them at the bottom of the bed. I now felt uncomfortable in his presence after the last words he spoke. Instinctively I told him; “It’s fine, I’ll call an Uber.” “I’m not suggesting. I’m telling.” He stated bluntly and this was new, this had never happened before. He was rarely awake when I slunk out the door of his apartment - because it was always his apartment or hotel room never mine - so this was completely foreign to me. “If you’re sure.” I half expected him to say of course he didn’t mean it, laugh, explain he was messing and to call that Uber immediately. But he just nodded and picked up my other heel from beside the door and held it out to me. I tried to avoid his eyes. I didn’t want him to see any emotion at at all behind mines so I took the shoe and shoved it on to distract myself.

We didn’t speak the whole ride to my apartment. The silence was only somewhat uncomfortable but for some strange reason things felt rather calm. Sitting in the passenger seat of Charles’ Ferrari - which I had never before sat in - felt somewhat surreal. I was hyper aware that the seat still practically bore another girls name. It still belonged to her and he would have her back without so much as blinking. I kept my eyes on the roads as Charles expertly drove the expensive luxury vehicle around them. Hoping the red lights would turn green as soon as we approached them.

“I do like you, y’know?” Came abruptly from Charles mouth when we turned onto my street, my apartment building in sight. I thought my ears were deceiving me so I broke my trance and glanced at him. “I know you probably think you’re just a rebound or….” He trailed off as he put the blinker on to pull over into the lane he could stop in to let me out. I could see the front door to my building and I had never seen a more welcome sight. “…but it’s not like that.”

I was desperate to ask what it was in fact like, what exactly he thought was going on but thankfully he brought the car to a stop and I could finally jump out and escape the awkwardness. There was this uneasy feeling in the car that hit me like a led balloon and right in the middle of my chest. I hated it. I wasn’t used to it, especially not with Charles. I was used to feeling annoyed, frustrated and fuck, disappointed by him. The first few times we fucked I’d have said I felt used but that went away because I enjoyed our trysts as much as he did. And besides I didn’t need validation from him. I didn’t need him to need me. But then right now, as I waited to get out of the car with my hand on the door handle, it hit me how badly the words he had just spoken were actually all the things that I craved and desired above all else and it was startling. Then Charles said my name so gently, totally unlike he had ever said it before, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “I’d like to take you out sometime, properly. On a date.”

But before I knew what I was even doing I pulled the handle, pushed the door and started getting out of his car. He yelled my name so I would stop and for a second I did but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, to fall for him. “You know that can’t happen, Charles.” I managed to say in something struggling to be above a whisper “you don’t want me, you don’t even really like me, you’re still in love with her.”

The elevator ride up to my apartment felt like it took an eternity. The words he had spoken rang throughout my head as if a bomb had gone off and I was momentarily deaf. Fuck him. Fuck his bullshit and fuck how I fucking felt right now because of him. I was right for telling him that he was wrong and he still loved his stupid ex but it hurt because being with him always did. Being picked up and dropped all the time hurt. I wanted to be one of those girls who would have fallen for his words, whose stomach flipped when he told them he liked them, but I wasn’t and mines didn’t. I knew it was just about sex. I wasn’t his type. I wasn’t right for him. I’d never be his girl….and yet as the doors opened to my floor, I couldn’t wait till the next time I could fall asleep beside him and hate myself for it the next day.

*snow = cocaine

[smooth-perceval]

“My love, my life.”

“I’m just a guy who drinks tea.”

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

PART TWO

Max Corner

Summary: [Max and reader crossed the line in their 3 year friendship, resulting in 2 positive pregnancy test. And 1 baby on the way.]

Reader finally forgives Lando for being a bad friend, Max finally decided what he wants- if only the reader wants that.

Warnings: 18+ little bit of idk pre-smut or just some ‘steamy scenes’, angst, pregnancy, swearing, some heavy flirting, Google translate?, no proof read.

Key: Y/N (your name), Y/L/N (your last name)

Word count: 3,783

A/N: I honestly just wanna thank use for the love on each of my post, it means so much 🖤 I’m not the greatest writer in the world, hell I even make myself cringe at things I write… and how I write them but the love I’ve received is just so lovely 🥹 Thank you 🖤 again movie quotes I think- 🥲

**Two weeks 3 days later**

The two boys stuck to what I said, they kept no contact with me… It hurt, hurt like hell that they really didn’t keep in touch, I didn’t expect them to really leave me solo- but here we are.

Slowly the whole situation became more real, I have my first private scan in 4 days- and I did feel joyous. It’s not the greatest situation, but I’m having a baby.

Truthfully the thought always brings a smile to my face, wether I’ve got Max and Lando or not. I’ve always got this baby. And that’s more exciting than anything.

The shock and tears stopped the minute I shut the door on them two boys. I knew I had to be stronger than this for my baby. And I was adamant on not letting some stupid boys bring me down in the process, I was going to do this. And I was going to be perfect, all alone.

My parents are both thrilled for me, not the entire situation… but happy for the news, which gave me the motivation I needed. I had my two parents and this little baby, I had more than enough to do this, okay my parents live back in England… but it’ll be fine.

I’ll be honest… this is my mind 24/7, reassuring myself I can do this- with or without Max’s assistance. It was a painful torture… especially when the devil on my shoulder was whispering anything but hope in my ear, telling me everyday this is going to be the struggle of a lifetime without Max… This would last for hours before the perfect little angel would shut him up, and reassure my mind that I was a mother now, and all mothers are strong, and that everything was going to be okay.

I was sitting down eating my dinner, when my phone rang out, making me jump slightly. A contact I wasn’t expecting flashing on the screen, followed by a message I wasn’t sure I’d receive.

“Landiniho 🏎️”

Please read this.

I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact, I thought it’s best to leave you be- as I wasn’t the greatest friend. What your doing is incredible- and if anything after the way Max reacted, I should’ve realised then you needed a friend than some idiot screaming because he wasn’t told a secret- I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart, I don’t want our friendship to feel like nothing to you, because it means the whole world to me… Please forgive me.

P.S: don’t give my uncle rights to Carlos please.

P.P.S: I’m so proud of you.

Love Lan x

Could I help the smile that broke out on my face? No, it’s Lando. Was I still mad at him… again no. He was just reacting in a way any friend would if their pal didn’t tell a secret. It hurt how he reacted sure… but he still my friend.

Typing a message back I sighed clicking onto Max’s contact… still reading the last message he sent

“Maxiiii 🦁”

“Hope your feeling better Schat. Me and the idiot will be round after quali x ” (Darling)

My phone sounded again multiple times, I clicked on Lando’s notification, laughing to myself at the spam messages.

“Landiniho 🏎️”

Your how far?!

Already-

I haven’t been there…

I’m sorry, are you getting an early scan?

I’d love to come?!

I’m trying to make it up to you for being a shitty friend x

Messaging him back I confirmed the scan date, time and location. Was he forgiven easily, yes. So easily, but it gave me some sense of relief knowing he cares.

The scan was a day before he had to fly out to Canada, but he was adamant on being there, meaning he had to fly from Barcelona, back to Monaco then to Canada. Which only made me feel guilty at the insane amount of effort. I’m glad I got Lando back, truthfully the sun didn’t shine without him.

The days had passed, nothing major happening, Max still hadn’t reached out, and as the days went on I was pulling myself further away from him, not wanting any association with him.

I was getting ready for my scan and my phone signalled, Lando reminding me of the appointment, he had kept in touch a lot… he really was apologetic, and I’m so glad he reached out cause it sure did dull the devil on my shoulder. He wasn’t so loud anymore…

Lando messaged last night when he arrived back in Monaco telling me he had arrived and that he would see me in the morning. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief, Max or no Max I had someone. I missed Max. Missed him a ton… even if whatever we did was a ‘mistake’ just having him as a best friend, someone I could talk to- I missed just him. It’s a different vibe with Max,

With Max it was late nights curled on the sofa, gossiping about paddock life, a glass of wine in hand and soft touches that we both swore was innocent, we just had another level of connection- someone who understood myself on a different level.

Lando on the other hand? It was hectic- spur of the moment kind of things, he would call at random times of the day telling me we are going somewhere and expect me to be ready- it was always an adventure! It was always a laugh and joke between two friends.

Two different vibes, with two different outcomes- my brain doesn’t function without Lando’s random calls, however my heart aches without Max’s teasing smiles and lingering touch… I was really in deep.

I was waiting around in the parking lot, legs jittering around nervously trying to spot Lando’s car anywhere, waiting only for a few more minutes before heading inside and checking myself in. I hadn’t heard from him for a few hours and he hadn’t respond to any messages… which only led me thinking he had to go somewhere else- which is fine, his a busy guy…

There was still no sign of him- and I was now getting called into the office, sighing with defeat I got up shuffling in. That little flicker of hope burning out- all I needed was a friend today…

Me and the nurse was going through a few documents, and details to cover about the pregnancy, before she asked me to go behind the curtain and remove my bottoms and underwear, placing a sheet over myself, then requesting for me lay down on the bed while she got her equipment ready. The door rattled slightly from a soft knock, causing us both to look up.

“Sorry- two minutes.” The nurse smiled apologetically before getting up and opening the door slightly and stepping outside.

Within a few seconds the door was opened again by the nurse and following behind was him.

Max- he had a cap on and was holding onto some sunglasses I guess he is calling that his “disguise” some dark blue jeans and a casual white t-shirt.

Mouth hung open I stared at him, sitting up on the bed. Ensuring the sheet was still covering myself. “What are you doing here?”

“Lando said you had an scan…”

“I haven’t heard from you in weeks.” I angrily whispered, I felt a rage in me all of a sudden to bite this man’s head of. Yet grab him and hold him tight and thank him for being here.

With his head hung low he stepped closer, giving the nurse a small smile. “Maybe we discuss all of that stuff after this?…” glancing back and fourth between me and the nurse.

And once again in defeat I sunk back onto the bed turning my head away from him. The little flicker of light burned in my chest, and I couldn’t help the small smile… it’s a good thing I had my head turned so he couldn’t see what he was doing to me.

Giving me hope again.

“Where’s Lando?” Mumbling I watched as the nurse started preparing everything.

“I- I asked him if he could wait out there.”

Nodding my head in acknowledgement the nurse then looked up smiling.

“Are you ready? It may feel a little cold- but it shouldn’t cause any discomfort, if it does just let me know straight away.”

Nodding my head again I smiled a little glancing over at the screen, trying to find any form of distraction.

Taking a sharp in- breath at the coldness of the gel, the nurse laughed a little apologising once again. She was right there was no discomfort, the room was silent as we was all watching the screen waiting for any sign of the baby.

“Anddd… there is your baby.” Pointing up at the screen, the picture showing what looked to be a small bean.

Resting my head back onto the pillow in a happy daze, I caught a glance over at Max, who was leaning over slightly watching the screen. As if it was out of instinct his hand clasped onto mine in a tight grip, like he needed reassurance for himself. Some form of clarity.

Squeezing his hand back, he broke his gaze looking straight at me, eyes shining with threatening tears, and as quick as he looked at me, he looked back at the screen.

“I’ll just go get the scan printed for you both-” The nurse disposed of the equipment before excusing herself, I untangled my hand from Max’s and held the sheet heading back behind the curtain getting dressed, nervously I shuffled back out from behind the curtain Max now sitting down hands covering his mouth, as if he is understanding the situation properly now.

“We really are having a baby…” his voice was barely audible above a whisper. Humming with a small smile more for myself. I finally got to see my baby- it seems so real now…

Tilting his head up He reached over taking my hand pulling me closer, nearly tumbling over my own feet.

“I’m so sorry.” He mumbled wrapping his arms around my waist head flushed against my stomach.

“It’s okay-”I whisper back, rubbing the top off his back before pulling away. My hands moved to his face wiping his spilled tears.

“I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions I was just terrified-” sighing he looked down at the floor, breathing in and out slowly.

“You wasn’t the only one- I was scared to even tell you.. I didn’t exactly tell you in the greatest way…”

“Well it wasn’t my best reaction, it’s been eating me alive for these past few weeks how bad I acted…”

Shrugging I look away, taking a seat in the doctors chair next to him “Water under the bridge… just glad you and Lando are both back. Even for a day.” Nudging his shoulder he smiled a little, taking my hand once again.

“You got me for a lifetime now.” Laughing a little I hummed rolling my eyes. “Lucky me.”

Both thanking the nurse, and leaving her office Max’s hand was gently placed at the bottom of my back, like a guidance, and in his other hand he was holding the scan photo’s looking at them with a smile on his face.

The wind was nearly took out of me, when Lando practically jumped onto me hugging me tight.

“I’ve missed you.” Letting out a huff, with a little laughter I hugged him back tight. “I missed you too.” He quickly pulled away taking the scan photos from Max walking ahead of us both to the exit.

“Why does it look like rice?” Both shaking our heads we followed behind.

“Because it’s early stages Lan.” Laughing I had a little run catching up with him. “About a month and the baby will start developing little arms and legs!” Linking my arms with his, Max trailing next to us both. I reached my other arm around Max’s linking him as well, pulling both of them closer.

Max followed me back to my place, Lando was complaining that he had to go get some more sleep before his flight in the morning. Leaving us both in the car park and the screeching sound of his tires as he pulled away.

“Did you want tea or anything…?” I poked my head out the kitchen looking over at Max.

“I don’t like tea…”

“What kind of person doesn’t like tea?” I smiled teasingly at him. Shaking my head I trailed back into the kitchen. He laughed lightly following me into the kitchen standing in the doorway.

“A person called Max” he hummed crossing his arms, I spare him a glance, a small smile playing on my lips. In silence I made a tea and offered Max a bottled water, placing his across the kitchen island, me sitting down on the opposite side.

“I’m sorry again, for everything I said.”

“I said don’t worry-”

“No- it wasn’t fair on me to shift blame… if anything it was my fault we was in that situation.” Moving his drink aside, he leaned down on the counter hands clasped together.

Smiling a little, cheeks slightly red at the faint memory. “If I remember it was both of ours…”

“No.” Moving around the counter, I turned on the stool, him now standing in front of me, lost in his own thoughts.

“I knew what I wanted as soon as I crossed that finish line.” Max stared down at me, his mind looked like it was turning, like he was trying to understand himself.

“The night ended with just a slice of what I was thinking about when I got out that car and see you standing there, smiling at me. With that smile of yours… that pretty smile...” he was mumbling words, it was as if he was in a trance, his hand moving up to my face letting his thumb swipe my bottom lip slightly before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I was frozen in place- scared to act on my thoughts… I didn’t want the same feeling I’ve had these past three weeks of no Max, I’d rather hold back.

“So this was all planned…?”

“Not exactly planned… I was planning on telling you the truth…” mumbling he looked down at my hands that were fiddling around on my lap. “It was just me telling you without words-” once again my face burned red at the thought of what we got up to 3 weeks ago.

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same?” Looking back up at me he quirked a brow- like he was taunting me for words.

“Max-”

“Ah-” Cutting me off, he stepped between my legs caging me against the island arms either side as he held onto the counter, his head had ducked slightly, trying to level with me.

“Do you, or do you not?” Shaking my head quickly, not trusting my voice, I already knew my body had given every motion for him to continue, from the way I was biting my lip, to even leaning in so our chest are nearly touching.

Humming to himself in disapproval, his hand grazed over my hip, dancing up my stomach and resting on the centre of my chest, “Your heart says different…” his eyes followed his hands as they slowly roamed my body. My body was reacting to every little touch. Telling him to continue even if I said anything different.

His fingers brushed above my heart again as he tapped his finger to the racing heart beat. “You don’t feel the same?” He didn’t even need an answer from me to know how I was feeling- I’m sure even my eyes speak for themselves.

“Max…” whispering I looked down at his hand removing the one from my chest. “I invited you for tea…” subconsciously my tongue darted out licking my bottom lip as I looked back up at him.

Raising his eyebrows a small smile playing on his lips, I tugged at his other hand removing it from my hip,clearing my throat.

“And you, don’t can’t do relationships.”

As quickly as I removed him he was back on me- like a lion stalking it prey. His lips trying to kiss every inch of my face, and as much as I was trying to hold back- I failed… my hands gripped onto his bicep and shoulder, head slowly falling back as his lips trailed down my neck whispering sweet nothings.

“You’ve stated what you think I can’t do and not what you want.”

“I don’t want something that you can’t do.” He placed a soft kiss behind my ear, making me only bite my bottom lip- trying not to give myself away any more than I have…

“Maybe I can.”

“I don’t want if, buts and maybes. I want absolutes.” Gulping, closing my eyes. I let out a shaky breath, my hands slowly moving to his chest, before I pushed him back gently.

We was both now staring at each other, breathing heavily, like it was our last.

Covering my face with my hands I stood up, my fingers combed through my hair as I left the kitchen wandering to the living room, my hands finally resting in my hips I turned to Max, who as always was following behind me.

It was awkward… the energy was still basking on lust- and me and Max just didn’t know how to use our words.

“I should go…” clearing his throat, scratching the back of his head he looked down and the floor.

“Maybe it’s for the best…” I whispered it, only because it was a lie. The silence overcoming us again.

“Right-” he moved his hands to be clasped together in front of his trousers- hiding anything to show for the little break in the kitchen. Shuffling his feet slowly he moved down the hallway to the door, quickly pulling his shoes back on.

“Oh… did you want to take one of the scan photos… you don’t have to?” Tilting my head slightly, I could barely hear myself let alone his response over my pounding heart.

I only knew what he said by the nod of his head that followed, I quickly ran to my bag in the lounge grabbing one of the scans and bringing it back to him holding it out.

Smiling a little he pinched the other corner of the photo- both scared once again to go near each other. Max was looking back down at the scan photo as he took it from me, the smile on his face only wider.

“That’s our bab-”

I couldn’t tell you what came over me- I just needed to kiss him- even if it was a last- his lips had kissed everywhere on my face today- but my lips, and they craved the sensation so terribly.

I practically jumped onto him arms around his neck- and it’s now I thank heavens for his quick reaction, I probably would’ve slid back down him if he hadn’t reacted. The scan photo getting caught between our colliding chest, both his arms were fasted tightly around my waist holding myself in the air-

Our lips felt as if they’re moulding together, both hungry, desperate, lustful.

I felt his hands slide from my waist down to the backs of my thighs tugging them up around him, before he moved back along the hall to the lounge. Both giving feather kisses, my hands tugging the end of his hair softly. He couched slightly placing me on the arm of the sofa before pulling himself back slowly.

The picture now fell from between us and we both looked down at it before he picked it back up placing it on the coffee table.

No words needed to be said, his hands were supporting me as he placed soft kisses back on my lips, and with every kiss we slowly fell back onto the sofa, Max climbing further up, one knee between my legs the other practically hanging off the sofa holding him up slightly.

And in silent agreement we both started undressing each other, as if it was the first time again. Both awed by the sight of one another.

As always, Max looked heavenly, his hair was disheveled from my fingers running through, his eyes were a bright blue filled with lust and adoration, the apples of his cheeks were flushed red… his toned body was warm to the touch. He always is perfect.

Moving closer his soft, wet kisses were making their way down my exposed chest, feeling him smiling against my skin after every kiss he placed. Mumbling things like-

“So perfect…”

“My pretty girl.”

“My schat” (darling)

I felt as if I was floating, if this is what heaven feels like I want it everyday.

I said once before- heaven wouldn’t accept two sinners. And there’s no way I could stop from sinning now- if it meant locking me up in the depths of hell I would happily dance myself down to the gates only if I can have Max devouring every inch of my body like he was.

He worshipped my body, and took me on highs I don’t even remember either of us reaching the last time we ended up in such positions.

When all was said and done, our bodies heaved with exhaustion, Max still pulled back on his underwear and hauled himself upstairs to the bathroom getting wet towels to clean us both up with. He even helped me get my underwear and his T-shirt on… he took such gentle care with me, it was difficult not to love him.

It took some time before our breathing levelled out, Max turned his head bringing his lips to kiss my forehead. A small smile tugged at my face, my head now leaning against his shoulder.

“Please stay the night…” he moved his hand around cupping my cheek, placing more kisses to the top of my head.

“Don’t have to ask twice.” My smile widened and I responded with a hum.

“I’m going to make a cup of tea, did you want a cold drink?…” slowly I pushed myself of the sofa stretching turning to look at him.

His hands slowly moving up each sides of my legs, as he looked up at me.

“I’ve got more water?”

“Actually I’ll have tea.” I raised my eyebrows at him, brushing some hair back.

“Are you trying to impress me?”

“Of course not, I’m just a guy who drinks tea.” Laughing a little I push his head back gently leaving him in the lounge.

We have so got this Verstappen.

A/N: idk what it is but I just had terrible writers block- and as you can tell it was sort of forced finished, so hopefully Part 3 I will have a bit more inspo flowing 🥲 But hope you enjoyed anyways 🖤 Part 3 hopefully end of the week the latest I’ll update if not 🖤

Masterlist

[inmyheaddd]

Hi love, could i request maybe a Jameson version of your childhood friends to lovers with Grayson. Maybe in Jamie’s version reader is like the daughter of Tobias’ tailor or something like that.

jameson hawthorne childhood friends to lovers head cannons

thankyou so much for the reqq, this is a long one but def one of my favs i’ve written so far!! wc: 4.9k

being the daughter of one of tobias’ close friends, who was also his tailor, meant you were often at the hawthorne house.

when your dad needed someone to watch you when your parents would go out, tobias would always offer for you to come over to the House and play with his grandsons.

at 7, you didn’t have much in common with any of them, but talking to them was still the best part of your day.

one of them in particular made your day better, jameson.

the first time you met him, you were 7 and he was 8. you and your dad were standing outside the front door. a maid opened it, and jameson being the curious child he was, was standing not far behind.

“who are you?” he asks whilst holding a pen, an apple, and a usb stick in his hands. you later learned jameson holding random miscellaneous items was a common occurrence; he practically lived for games.

“i’m y/n” 

“hey buddy,” your dad jumps in, crouching to meet jamesons height. jameson already knew your dad and thought of him as a funny uncle he never had.  “this is my daughter, i’m gonna be dropping her off with you lot while i’m out running errands, that okay with you?”

“does she like playing games?” he asks

“she loves playing games, right honey?” 

“yeah…” you say, looking at your feet. jameson sees that and smiles to himself.

“good,” he says with a wide grin on his face “i love games,” he continues.

“great, you two will have so much fun.” your dad says as he pats his shoulder, “have fun, alright sweetie?” 

you and your dad say goodbye, and you’re now standing in the foyer with 8 year old jameson. “hi. what’s your name?” you ask, realizing he hasn’t told you his name yet.

“jameson. do you wanna see my favorite secret passage?”

“you have secret passages?!” you ask, dumbfounded because you thought that stuff only existed in movies.

“so many of them,” he says dragging the “so”. jameson had a slight lisp because he lost one of his top two teeth, and it made you laugh slightly whenever he spoke. 

jameson sensed your nervousness at the start and was by your side all day, doing all the talking and getting the awkwardness out of the way.

you swore he was like your white knight in that moment.

in 10 minutes, you were best friends—well, as close as you could get to a random boy you just met. but as kids, all you need is one thing in common in order to be besties for life.

he then introduced you to his brothers.

grayson was standoffish with you at first, but soon enough, he warmed up. 

nash was 5 years older than you, so he didn’t really see a reason why he would need to be friends with a 7-year-old, but he was still always polite and never failed to make you laugh.

you and xander got along great; he was like another younger sibling to you. 

jameson was just something else. even at 8 years old, he still managed to make little you blush. maybe it was because he was the first one you met; who knows? all you knew was that you absolutely loved talking to him, and you were devastated when your dad came and it was time for you to leave.

“if you want, i can carry your toys outside." he said to you, when you were struggling to pick up all your things and your newfound treasures you and jameson had found in the backyard.(random rocks and stones)

“no it’s okay. i’m a dependent woman,” you say, sticking your chin up high. 

jameson grins at you. “isn’t it independent woman?” 

“i don’t know... i just heard it on tv” you say with an honest shrug as you both laugh.

ever since that day, you were always over at each other's houses.

jameson brought you so much out of your comfort zone

one day you were talking about how you wanted to have a tea party, but you didn’t want jameson to think it was silly.

“what would you think of a tea party? hypo-hyporectically” you ask, unsure of how to say the word you heard some adults say.

“i don’t really think of tea parties,” he replies, as he’s taking apart a pen, seemingly looking for something. 

“but what if you did? like, if someone asked you to one?” you ask again, your voice pitching higher at the end of the question.

“do you want to have a tea party?” he chuckles while raising his eyebrows, looking away from the pen and up at you.

“yeah..? it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“who said i didn’t want to? i’d love to.”

“oh” you say, and a small smile starts to creep up on your face. “that’s good. we should have one”

“you’re right, let me go call my brothers!" he says halfway through running towards one of the many secret passages.

“wait, no!” you exclaim, and you start to chase after him. “they’re going to think it’s stupid!” 

he shouts as he continues to run . “no they won’t, they’ll love it.” 

“please please please please don’t ask them, jameson.” you’re practically begging him not to ask them. you were extremely comfortable around jameson, but for some reason, the idea of asking the others to join made you feel silly.

he finally stood and turns around, and he’s extremely out of breath. “fine, only if you beat me in a race.”

“what?! no way!”

“i’ll give you a head start,” he says in a singsong voice.

he stays true to his word and gives you a head start; but he still wins.

looking back, you’re so glad he asked them because they all ended up agreeing, and the whole night was filled with laughter and fun. 

it was definitely one of your core memories. grayson was crowned the moodiest tea party princess - there’s a legit certificate of it somewhere in the house signed by all 5 of you.

soon enough, you started to participate in the saturday game mornings, and there was always a friendly fire between you and jameson. 

you’d agree to work together, knowing fully well that you’d both end up double-crossing each other at the end.

jameson made a few nicknames for you: the most used one was sewing machine, but it later shortened to “machine”; he said it also worked because ‘your brain worked as fast as a machine’. jameson and his reasoning...

as tweens, you and jameson were a nightmare to adults.

you would always make up the craziest random competitions on the spot:

“who can skip backwards whilst also saying the alphabet backwards without messing up”

“who can close their eyes and win tic-tac-toe 3 times in a row first.” spoiler alert: none of you won that one.

“who can annoy grayson the most today” usually, jameson would win that one. 

as you grew older, your dad would ask you to drop off some of tobias’ suits at the house and then come back home.

yes, you would drop off the suits, but you’d spend another 5+ hours there hanging out with jameson.

your dad obviously knew this, but he was fine with it. he knew jameson was a good person, and he had a hunch that you felt something for him.

you and jameson went through all the phases together.

he will never admit it, but he did have a pop music phase for a while with you... 

tell anyone, and he’ll deny it like his life depended on it (katy perry, lana, and taylor swift carried him through 2014).

you also had a very short-lived grunge phase. he still has his ears pierced from when you pierced them at home for him.

you both only wore black for a week, but ultimately decided it wasn’t for you.

you also went through a gaming phase. jameson had a whole room built purely for games, which you barely used after that short lived era. it didn’t go to waste though; xander transformed it into his designated robot room.

you guys didn’t go to the same school at this time, so practically every day after school you’d meet up somewhere and talk, or one of you would go to the other's house and hang out there.

you’d usually go to the hawthorne house to talk about your day with jameson, while discovering new secret passages and puzzles in the house.

the thing is, you weren’t like this with anyone else. but when you were with jameson, you never had to pretend or try, being yourself with him was as easy as breathing. you never had to worry about being judged. you always thought this was just because you knew him for so long. 

at 14, you had your first real crush (or so you thought). 

the guy sat next to you in english, and every time you would need ‘to discuss your answers with the person next to you’ you’d talk to him, and you guys would always go off topic. 

talking to him sort of felt like talking to jameson. 

whenever you mentioned him to jameson, he would suddenly seem uninterested. you figured it was because the topic of crushes was more girl talk. you soon stopped talking about him.

you two ended up getting into a relationship with him at 15; it was 2 weeks (2 weeks too long) and extremely boring.

he clearly felt the same way, because he’d always be late to your hangouts or have some dummy excuse. one time he blew you off for the mall when you were already there. 

you decided to roam around anyway and do some shopping, and there he was, walking hand in hand with some other girl in your school. then he leaned in and kissed her.

you didn’t even know what to do. you froze. it's like your brain was on autopilot, and the only thing it knew how to do was call jameson.

“hey machine, what’s up?”

“hey, um, are you free right now?” you ask, biting your bottom lip and hoping for a good response. 

“i’m always free for you. is something wrong?” 

“no, nothing's wrong!” your voice begins to waver, and you pray he doesn't notice.

“i know you well enough to not believe that lie. where are you?” 

“it doesn’t matter, can i come over? i’m fine, just…” you pause, looking for the right excuse, but you come with nothing.

“just what, y/n?” he says softly.

“i can come over right?” you avoid his question by asking one of your own.

“of course you can,” he says, with a hint of confusion in his voice.

“okay, bye”

“wait wh-“

you shut your phone off and take a deep breath, closing your eyes and pinching your nose bridge. “what am i even doing?” you think to yourself

as you arrive to his house, you notice that some of his friends are just leaving. you start to feel guilty on top of what you’re already feeling as you realize he must’ve gotten them to leave for you to come. it’s like, at any second, you’re going to break and pour out all your emotions.

when he opens the door for you, he immediately does a once-over on your outfit and realizes you were meant to meet up with that guy from your english class. he knows this because whenever you hang out with him, you dress like the type of people he likes. not what you like. 

“you wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asks, looking down at you with soft eyes.

you shake your head, looking at your feet, and when you make eye contact with him, the strong facade you put on in front of everyone else cracks, and your eyes start to water. 

he pulls you in for a hug and you try your hardest not to cry.

”you don’t have to be strong around me.” the second he said those words it’s like a dam broke out in your eyes.

a few minutes later, no one could even try to stop your ranting. “he’s always- he’s always blowing me off, and whenever he does show up- he’s always so, so, so late” you say in between hiccups and sniffles. you knew future-you would be mortified from the ugly crying on his shoulder, but in the moment, you just needed to be with jameson. 

you continue to express your feelings, and when you mention the fact that he was hanging out with another girl today, and kissed her, he pulls back from the hug and places his hands on your shoulders.

“i’m sorry, what?” he says with his eyes narrowed. 

“he had you, and he was with someone else? you have to be joking.” 

when you don’t respond, he turns his head away from you and mutters under his breath, “im gonna kill this guy” 

he turns to face you again.

“what’s his name again? full name” 

“jameson.” you warn seriously as you tilt your head.

“his name is jameson too? what a coincidence! we can have a lovely chat about what it’s like to be called jameson.” he remarks sarcastically, with a tight-lipped smile on his face. 

you half-roll your eyes and say, "his name isn’t jameson. ive told you his name before” 

“i don’t store unnecessary, wasteful information in my brain. it messes with my aura,” he jokes to make you feel better as he moves his hand and gestures around his face, then places it back on his shoulder. “now though, his name is very useful to me. his name?” 

you tell him his name, and you can practically see jameson store it away in his brain.

"let's get you inside, yeah?"  

the rest of the night, jameson was being extra unpredictable and funny to make you forget about recent events, and he was literally doing anything you asked.

he always complains and groans when you want to watch old timey movies, but that day he had no problem with watching little women & pride and prejudice.

he was still himself though.

“i don’t understand how you like this movie; it’s so... boring.”

“this movie would be so much better with action cars and sound effects.” that one earned a half-chuckle out of you.

“it’s like you don’t even have to guess or predict anything; it just happens?”

midway through his complaining, he looks over at you and sees you're fighting to stay awake.

“oh, that’s why you weren't responding” he murmurs 

he told himself off in his brain to stop talking so you could sleep, and at the end of the movie he carried you to one of the many guest rooms and put you in bed.

in the middle of the night you woke up, in an unfamiliar room. you remembered that you were last watching a movie with jameson, ‘did he bring me here?‘ you thought as you got up out of bed and stretched. 

jameson heard a knock on his bedroom door and opened it, he was shocked to see you awake. 

“what are you doing here?” he says, his voice low like he hasn’t used it in a while. 

“um, i woke up, and i couldn’t go back to sleep,” you say as you scratch the back of your neck 

“you wanna sleep here?” he asks with his classic jameson smile, even when he’s half asleep.

“if it’s alright with you” you say, starting to smile back at him.

“all yours,” he says as he opens the door fully to let you in first, then closes the door behind you and follows you.

you asked him what time it was, and he answered. but his mind wasn’t focused on the time. it was like every single moment you two had spent together was crashing out of his mind, and all he could think of was you. he laid on his back, staring up at the wall with you next to him, laying on your side, already sleeping. 

he knew he loved you. he had known that for a while. he knew you weren’t only a childhood friend, you weren’t only some girl whose dad was friends with his grandfather, you weren’t just a girl who he’d laugh with sometimes. you were it. you were everything to him. you’d seen him through everything he’s been through, and you still always stayed. you were kind and forgiving in times when no one, not even him, deserved it. you were everything and more. 

but in his mind, he wasn’t.

“compared to your brothers, your mind is ordinary." the old man’s voice rang through his head. 

he looked over at you and realized that he didn’t deserve you. not one bit. he couldn’t bear to see you hurt again, and it would tear him apart if he was the reason for it - because he wasnt good enough. being just friends with you was safer, but it was also tearing him apart every passing day. 

he needed to be better, for you.

over the next few weeks, jameson started to distance himself.

you were so confused. “did i do something?” “was the crying too much?” “i messed everything up” were thoughts that clouded your brain for months.

jameson on the other hand, was thinking this was all for the better. 

“i’ll get better at this, i'll be perfect for her, and then ill come back”

he just kept striving to do one more thing, but it was never enough for him. he felt like he’d always be one step away from perfect. 

but he had to be perfect, so he kept trying.

you and jameson turned into strangers who happened to know everything about each other. you’d still text each other sometimes, pretending like nothing happened and wishing the other a happy birthday.

your birthdays didn’t feel the same without him.

your favorite birthday was when he gifted you a riddle box you had to solve when you were 14. once you solved it, there was a letter inside titled “to my best friend." some spelling mistakes here and there, but you still treasured it like it was worth all the money in the world. 

it was the summer before you started 11th grade, and you were going to be attending heights country day that year.

you went downstairs to get a cup of water, and as you were standing looking at the fridge, you noticed an old drawing you made at eight of you and your family hung up on the fridge. on it, there was little jameson next to you and labeled it “my best friend”.

 your mood was instantly dampened, and you started reminiscing about times long gone.

 you went to reread the letter in the riddle box that he once gave you. you knew that moving schools would mean you’d have to face jameson much more frequently. 

you wanted to remember what you once had. “maybe if i don’t mess up this time, i could have that again.” it was putting salt on an open wound.

you sat down on your desk, placed your water next to you, and opened that riddle box once again. the familiarity of the whole process from how many times you’ve opened it made it no longer a riddle. it was practically muscle memory now. you took out the letter, and reached to turn on your lamp, accidentally knocking the cup of water in the process.

you immediately got up from your chair as the water spilled all over your desk and picked up the letter.

“shit shit shit shit,” you repeated as you tried to salvage it. 

“no no no, this can’t be happening,” you murmured as your voice started to shake.

you brang it up in front of your face and noticed the back, and you started to see writing appear that you'd never seen before.

“am i tripping?” you questioned, and turned it around back and forth, then you started to chuckle. “there’s no way.” 

you then realized he used one of many hawthorne classics - invisible ink.

you sat down back at your desk and took a picture of the letter, just in case it disintegrated later on.

you started to read through the new writing that you had just discovered. 

“hey machine, i know you’ll never read this, but i’m writing it anyway. that’s something i do a lot—things that are useless just for that rush of excitement, for that risk. mother says im “hungry”. im starting to think she’s right.

in all seriousness though, i'm actually not hungry. i just did a scone eating competition with xander. not our brightest idea. i think i wont have to eat for the next 10 years of my life. 

okay, in actual all seriousness, i love you. i should’ve probably done some big lead up to that, but honestly, thats all i know. all i know is that i love you. you make me feel a feeling that’s unexc unexpli unexplainable—that’s love, isn’t it? whenever i’m with you, i never feel like i need more, like im "hungry."  you’re it for me. you’re everything and more. the old man once said to me, “there’s men like us only love once, fully, wholeheartedly. it’s all consuming and eternal." i think he knows—hell, he probably knew before i did—that i love you. how could i not? everything about you is so perfect. i knew you were going to be someone important in my life since the second i laid eyes on you. i just never knew how much.” your hand covered your mouth as you continued to read, as you got to the end, you swear your heart broke in two. “…what i'm trying to say is, i would carry your toys for you any day if it means i get to see you smile - if it means you’re happy. i would go through any phase in the world, as long as it's with you. i would discover every secret passage if it meant discovering it with you. i'd climb every mountain, i'd watch every rom-com, i'd read every book, i'd do anything, if it was you asking.

i love you, machine.

endlessly and eternally yours, 

jameson” 

by the end of the letter, you were in shambles.

he loved you? for all this time? and you never even knew? if he loved you, why’d he leave?

you knew the letter was old, and it was written before you two drifted apart, but something inside of you was itching to call him and tell him what you found—what you know now.

you called him, waited, and waited. you were just about to hang up and forget all about it when he picked up on the 5th ring.

“jameson, hi” 

“machine?” he sounded almost in shock. he cleared his throat and spoke again.

“y/n, hi. to what do i owe the pleasure of this call?” he seems to have regained his composure quickly.

a smile found your face. he still talks the same.

however, it quickly fades when you remember the premise of which you’re calling. 

“i know this is extremely random, but um. i was rereading a letter you once gave me, the one from that riddle box.” you pause and wait for his response. 

“yes?”

''and water spilled on it." you continue

“oh.” you hear him shuffle for a second, and he continues, “i’m sure you enjoyed 15-year-old me’s spelling mistakes."

“there weren’t that many, actually,” you say with a small chuckle. 

jameson hated talking to you like this, like you weren’t practically the same person split into two. but he knew it was his fault.

“yeah, i'm pretty sure i used a grammar checker. or i asked grayson. same thing” 

you laugh. and your laugh has him regretting every single decision he made that didn’t involve you. he was such an idiot for leaving in the first place. he needed to make things right.

“that’s grayson for you,” you reply, and he’s brought back to reality. 

he lets out laugh, and then says, “you know, i heard from a little birdie that you’re moving to heights country day this year.” 

“yeah, i am actually,” you reply with a small smile. 

jameson hears your smile in your voice. the things he would do to be able to see that smile.

the rest of the conversation goes smoothly, and it ends with jameson asking you to come over for a rundown of what to do in school. what he was really asking, was for you to come over so you could talk about the letter. 

you arrived at the hawthorne house exactly on time.

 jameson opened the door and smiled at you. in that moment, you swear you actually felt your heart skip a beat.

a few hours later, when you’ve gotten back into the rhythm of talking with jameson and laughing with him, he actually started to help you with school. he gave you some of his books from last year for you to catch up on. 

he was on a ladder, reaching for one of the books in one of many libraries, and you were behind him basically ogling at his arm and back muscles that were peeking through his white shirt. he really had grown.

he suddenly says “my feelings didn’t change, you know.” 

“what?” 

“the letter.” he says when he turns around with the book in his hand. he pauses for a second, searches your face, and continues. 

“i feel every single thing for you now than i did then, probably even more if it’s even possible. i could never forget about you. every corner of this house has memories of me and you. so does every corner of my mind. i love you.”

he puts the book down, takes a step forward, and you look up at him.

“jameson i..” you trail off, trying to find the right words. i’ve loved you since i could remember. every good memory i have has you right next to it. since the second i went through that first passage with you, i had a feeling that i never felt before, and it kept growing with every step i took. every step we took, together. i love you." and after a second, you continue. "but why’d you leave?” you say that with your eyebrows slightly furrowed and a light shake of your head.

when you say those last words, a flash of hurt passes through his eyes.

“i’m sorry. i wish i could give you some great reason why i did, but i cant." he takes a deep breath in "i wanted to be better for you. i didn’t want to be ordinary with you.” that was the first time he ever confided in someone about that feeling. ordinary.

“jameson. you’re everything to me.” 

“i wasn’t enough.”

“you’re more than enough.” you tell him truthfully, and you reach your hand up to his face.

he does the same, and somehow he steps forward to be even closer to you than he already is.

"i love you, jameson, more than anything in this world. i'll spend every day of my life proving it to you if that's what it takes for you to see that you're not ordinary, you could never be. you're everything."

he looks down at you for a few seconds, and his eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes. 

he murmurs in a low voice, “if i kiss you, i don’t think ill ever be able to stop.” 

“who says i want you to stop?” your voice comes out barely audible. 

and with that, he kisses you. 

it was a slow, passionate kiss. one that said all the words you two weren’t able to. it wasn’t rushed; it was love.

your arms moved to wrap around the back of his neck, and his moved to your waist, drawing you in somehow closer than you already were.

for the rest of the night everything was normal between you two, like no time had passed at all. except you were extremely giddy, and jameson had his flirt on 100x more. 

later on, you two are lying on the couch with your head on his chest. he was playing with your hair when he broke the comfortable silence.

“you know that one guy, from your english class?”

“ugh, don't remind me of him,” you groan.

jameson chuckles, and you feel the vibrations coming from his chest. 

“i’m sorry, i’m going to have to,” he says through a smile as he pats your arm, and he resumes.

"whatever," you grumble through a small smile. "continue?" you add on.

“after you left that day, i told grayson what happened—not everything, but enough. he was the only person at the time who knew i liked you. back to the point, we went to the mall, and lucky for us, that guy was still there. his little lady friend seemed to be somewhere else. but there he was.” 

“oh my god,” you mumble as you turn your head to face him, “what did you do?”

a smirk starts to appear on his face as he looks down at you. “what makes you think i did anything?” 

“well for one, that smirk on your face,” you say with a laugh, “and secondly, well, i know you.”

he looks up at the ceiling and smiles. 

“me and grayson had bruised knuckles for a week or two, but it was worth it.” he chuckles as looks down at you.

“oh my god,” you mutter for the second time that day as you turn your head to the side and look away from him. you look back at him with raised eyebrows and a finger pointed at his face, “you’re insane.” 

“you love it.” 

after a beat of silence you respond, looking into his eyes with your voice barely audible.

“yeah, i guess i do.”

this was so longg, honestly idek if these even classify as head cannons anymore. atp they’re whole stories. sometimes writing for jameson is hard for me because i have no idea how to think like him, so i apologize if this is out of character 😭

anywayy i hope you enjoyed, lmk if you did! 🤍

[juiles]

All to well

Plot: idk. have fun!

Type: angst and fluff

Warnings: i am in no way saying that this is how all autistic people are!! This fic is based off my PERSONAL experience with autism and sensory overload. Please remember this as you read!!

Masterlist here!

Request here!

————————————————————————-

Being autistic has drawbacks for a normal person, but for an actress in Marvel movies, it was tough. I’m proud of who I am but I didn’t want the pitying looks, the comments or being stuck as only getting the “autistic” role so for my own sake, I’m not super open about it.

My parents are ashamed of it so they never told anyone and I was forced to mask anytime I was around anyone. Not even Scar knew, and she was my best friend, almost a mother figure to me. I didn’t want her to think any different of me. She’s known me since i was 7 and played her on screen adopted daughter in Iron Man 2.

We’re filming Endgame right now. I’m on my way to set with Scarlett. Today has been a rough day for me so far as my parents woke me up by screaming at me which then caused me to struggle in keeping my mask up. Scar picked me up and I’m already exhausted, I’ve caught myself stimming a few times and quickly stopped it.

When we pulled into the parking lot, i grabbed my bag and walked with her through set to our trailers where we left our stuff and we’re immediately shuffled to makeup and costumes.

“Oh shit…” I mutter staring at the costume in Erica’s hand. “I didn’t realize it was a fight scene today…”

“Babe.” Erica, my assistant and on set guardian says. She’s known about me since the first day which was when i was 7. “You’ve known about this for a week. Are you okay?”

“I’m super over stimulated right now…” I murmur tapping my leg in sets of 7, a common stim for me.

“Let’s do hair and makeup first okay? Keep you out of the costume until the last second okay?” I nod and the two of us move to hair and makeup where Scarlett is getting her hair done.

“Hey, where’s your costume kid?” She asks looking over at me.

“I uh-“ I glance at Erica who steps in for me quickly.

“It had a small tear in it so it’s getting fixed quickly.” Scarlet merely hums in response and I sit. Getting my wig on and makeup done is awful, having everyone touching me and all their voices so close to me ears. I feel a soft hand on my cheek and peek my eyes open to see Scar staring at me in concern.

“Stop grinding your jaw babe…” I release my jaw, not even realizing i had been doing it. “You okay love? You disappeared for a bit there.” I respond with a hum, my voice disappearing from within. “Let’s get your costume on and to set okay?”

I look around quickly and don’t see Erica, Scarlet must see the panic as she quickly says. “She got called away in an emergency. I’m going to be your guardian today.” I nod, feeling the panic bubble up in my chest, but give her a soft smile.

The two of us make our way to my trailer and she helps me quickly slip into the suit. I immediately want to rip it off as it’s skin tight and an uncomfortable material. It feels like it’s digging into my skin and pulling it away as if it’s velcro and my skin is the other side. I take a deep breath and come out to see Scar in costume waiting. “Ready?” I nod and we head to set where I realize it’s a busy day, all original 6 avengers, Lizzie, both Paul’s, Gwen and Cobie are all there. I internally groan as immediately, the girls are coming over to me and Scar talking a mile a minute. I stand next to Scarlett silently until Lizzie turns to me. “Hey kiddo. Ready to fight? We have to fly today.” My eyes widen for a moment before i force a smile and nod at the fake red head in front of me.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” This makes everyone around us laugh but it makes me feel awful. I have no voice, it comes and goes, when it’s gone, my parents ridicule me, I get hit. I look down as i feel my tears well up in my eyes and blink rapidly trying to will them away. I thank god silently when Joe calls us to places which means i get away from the now very suddenly concerned looking Scarlett, Lizzie and Cobie. I’m stuck with Renner as I get rigged up, the feeling of being sick suddenly appearing as more people touch me.

I feel the lump in my throat tighten and the feeling of the harness wrapped around me suddenly makes me feel like it’s constricting my breathing and everyone around me disappeared as my hands flung to the harness, in my panic my hands struggled with the buckle which just made me more infuriated and grunts started coming out as my tears blurred my vision.

I feel a set of hands on mine holding them down, i scream and rip mine away and start scratching at my throat trying to rip it open to get a breath. My eyes started blacking out and the last thing i see is Scarlett’s panicked face as she tries to grab at my hands before it all goes black.

Scarlett’s POV

I know something is off with y/n. Not off but just that she was different. I have had a feeling it was autism for a while now, today proved that to me.

She was silent the whole car ride to set, normally she’d be singing along the radio but she wouldn’t even let me turn it on today. As soon as we got to set she locked herself in her trailer without a word, the next time i saw her, she looked panicked and while she was getting her hair and makeup done she disappeared fully before i brought her back. She has days where she goes mute, she just calls them her bad days, they usually happen on days she has arguments with her parents but normally she can still communicate to me in different ways but today she was completely gone. It got worse as soon as she realized Erica was gone. Walking on to set, she tended up and i saw her tapping her thigh every once in a while. The comment that Lizzie made would normally make her laugh, her reaction today was off.

I watched her from the corner of my eye but had to look away for a second before i heard Renner.

“Y/N!! What are you doing?! You’re going to hurt yourself!” I whip my head around and my heart sinks as i see y/n struggling with her harness, her hands are shaking violently, tears streaming down her face, her eyes are glazed over. I bolt over and grab her hands gently.

“Y/n baby, stop. You’ve got to stop my love.” She rips her hands out of mine and starts clawing at her throat which is when i notice she’s not breathing properly. She’s barely able to get a small breath. Instincts kick in for me and i turn to the cast and crew crowding her. “Give her space. Now. I need someone to set up a dark room with minimal sound and her clothes she was wearing this morning as well as the blanket from my trailer. A cold cloth and her wig taken off.” I turn around as she starts to collapse, i grab her arm and quickly wrap an arm around her waist. “Now!”

It’s a bit of a blur after that honestly, the next thing i know, im alone with her in the green room after everything is unplugged and blankets are draped over the windows. Her wig is already off and someone hands me my blanket and her clothes before silently leaving. I help her unconscious body out of the suit and into her clothes before draping my weighted blanket over her body. I sit back and stare at her, not touching her at all but close enough if she needs me.

It felt like hours but looking at my watch, it shows it’s only been 20 minutes when she finally wakes up.

My heart is beating what feels like a million mile a minute with panic as i watch her blue eyes flutter open before she looks around the room for a moment. Her hand comes out of the blanket and she starts tapping her thigh again, her head nodding along to each tap. She squeezes her eyes shut and i can hear her voice mumbling. “I’m safe. I’m here. I’m y/n.” Over and over again, i quietly cough to get her attention and she quickly sits up and her head whips up to look at me with wide eyes, both hands start scratching at the other wrist. “Oh my god…”

“Baby, you are safe. It’s just me.”

“No… no… no no no no no no no no.” She started tugging her hair and rocking slightly. “They’re going to kill me… you aren’t supposed to know…”

I quickly scoot over and grab her hands before pulling her into my chest, she tenses for a moment before melting into my arms. “I can’t hide it anymore Scar…”

“I know baby… I know.” I mutter into her hair swaying us back and forth slightly.

“I’m autistic…”

“Oh baby i know…” She freezes and looks at me with wide eyes. I can ready the fear in her blue eyes. “You hide it really really well but I’m basically your mom my love. I had suspicions but didn’t want to push you into telling me. Today was too much.” She nods burying herself back into me. “I need you to know that I will always listen to you. That if you ever feel like that again, you can tell me and i’ll get you out of it. Baby seeing you pass out was terrifying. I need you to know that if you’re that overwhelmed, that you do not have to do all that.”

“But… my parents don’t want everyone knowing… they’re all gonna know now…” She mumbles into me, my heart cracks.

“Baby being autistic is not a bad thing. It makes you even more amazing. It’s not something to be ashamed of at all. You are allowed to be who you are. To stim when your emotions are too high. To have bad days. I am here to show you that.” I say looking her directly into her eyes. “I’m here to support you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she nodded quickly. She sat up and started tapping her thigh as she stared at me. “This is my favourite stim, it’s really subtle but it calms me down… i count the most important people in my life.” She then looks down at her hand as she taps each finger. “Scarlett.” Tap. “Lizzie.” Tap. “Renner.” Tap. “Gwen.” Tap. “Cobie.” Tap. “Rob.” Tap. “Rosie.” Tap. “It reminds me that you guys would love me, no matter how broken or weird i am because i know how much you care.” She looked up at me through her eyelashes. “Another one is tapping here.” She taps her chest right above her heart twice. “Right here.” She does the tap to each word. “This is where you sit in my body. I usually only do this one when I’m not wearing my necklace. Playing with that is the stim i can do out in public.” I pulled her into my arms again as I cried.

“Oh baby…”

“You’ve always been my safe space Scar…”

“And i will be your safe space for the rest of eternity.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes before she pulls away with a smile. “Thank you. For learning how to help me.”

“You are more than welcome my love. Let’s go home and have a calm day okay?” She nods before standing up, pulling my weighted blanket over herself. I stand and wrapping my arms around her waist, the two of us make our way out of the room to find Lizzie standing not too far away, crying into Gwyneths arms. Y/n instantly runs over to her and wraps her arms around the crying woman. Lizzie jumps before she turns and sees who it is and wraps the girl into her arms.

“I’m so sorry bug. I shouldn’t have made that comment. I know how bad your parents are.” Y/n shakes her head pulling back and squeezes Lizzie’s hands. “Liz that wasn’t what caused that.” She takes a glance back at me before taking a deep breath and looks back at Lizzie. “I’m autistic and I was overstimulated and everything was just too much. I won’t lie, the comment did hurt a little but i know you didn’t say it in a mean way. You didn’t hurt me, memories of my parents saying stuff hurt me. But not you.” Lizzie’s eyes widen and she glances at me before she nods breathing to calm herself down. “If you ever need to talk or are struggling you can talk to me bug.”

Y/n nods with a small smile. “I know Liz.”

“Hey. Me too.” We all turn our head to see Gwyneth with a pout on her face. “You scared the shit out of me kiddo. Never do that again. Understand?” She pulls y/n’s laughing form into her arms.

“I understand mother Paltrow.” She says making us all chuckle.

Y/n pulls away and biting her cheek looks at me. “I- i uh- I’m not ready to face everyone else yet…”

“They already left bug. It’s just us four left.” Lizzie said smoothing the crazy hair down on y/n’s head. “I couldn’t leave worried i hurt you and Gwyn couldn’t leave me alone but everyone else left to give you privacy. Scarlett went full mama bear mode and screamed at some people for trying to push her into anything. It was great.” Y/n chuckled, which brings a grin to my face.

“Of course you did. But i wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

“I love you too baby.” I say kissing her head softly.

[nqueso-emergency]

From a writer’s perspective, I just don’t see Buddie happening for the same reason I don’t see Eddie finding a LI that lasts anytime soon. Let me know if you agree.

To me, if the whole main cast is already paired up, it can get boring for the GA. There are so many sls you can do with a couple, much less if you have a main cast made only of couples. Having Buddie would, also, change the 118’s dynamic in a way I don’t think would be good.

Up until now Buck was the one they could play as the attractive bachelor, but I think it got old and the GA wanted him to find happiness and a solid partner for once and finally. I haven’t seen that sentiment towards Eddie (so far). Therefore - find Buck his happiness (Tommy) and have Eddie take on the role of bachelor of the 118.

I’ve been thinking this since the end of the season, but marketing pushing RG has made me think I could be somewhat right

You are right but a little wrong.

With the way Eddie's storyline was left at the end of season 7, it is obvious that the last thing Eddie needs is another LI. He's got issues with his past he will need to address before they even think of giving him a new LI.

You are correct in saying that about the main pairings and the way Buddie would change the dynamics. There are real firefighters and regulation managers on set. Sure, they understand it's television and certain belief must be suspended. However, they are sticklers for the rules.

This could be countered with the Bobby/Athena relationship. Just keep in mind that Athena is a Sargent and Bobby is a Captain so disobeying orders wouldn't be met with as much force as it would for two basic firefighters under the same house.

If Eddie or Buck got hurt, the other one would not be able to take part in helping them. They would be pulled off shift and then the 118 would be down two men.

They would have to separate them and then people would bitch about that too.

They part you're wrong about is Buck being a bachelor is boring to the general audience.

Buck, constantly struggling in relationships, was becoming boring for Oliver. He was dying to have Buck experienced domestic scenes and allowing his character to grow through a mature relationship that wasn't one-sided, like in season 1.

Something I'd like everyone to understand and keep in mind is this:

Yes, this is a procedural on network television. You are not going to get six year slow burns or the characters suddenly saying "fuck it" to protocol. (A secret relationship would be grounds for termination.)

Saying that, Tim and the writers are really drawn to representing their general audience and so far, they have.

Hen and Karen: Hen pursuing college after 40. Karen being a genius yet down to earth person. Lesbians. Cheating. Struggling with having children. Foster system. Adoption.

Maddie and Chim: Domestic violence. Second chance. Chim not thinking he's enough in previous relationships. Medical emergencies. Pregnancy. Therapy. Post-partum depression. New mom fears. Marriage. Miscommunication.

Bobby and Athena: Divorce. Betrayal. Alcoholic. Traumatic pasts. Lost fiancé. Lost family. Accepting love again. Support. Found family. House fire. Co-parenting. Recovery.

Eddie: PTSD. Army medic. Parent to special needs child. Single father. Repressed grief. Straight man unable to connect with woman. Anger issues.

Buck: Abandonment issues. Needs companship. Looking for happiness. Jealousy. Young. Sex addict. Rule breaker. Realized he was bisexual at 32.

Tommy: Came out late in life. Mysterious. Kind. Sarcastic. Defense mechanisms. Was forced to play a part of something he hates for most of his life. Army pilot.

It's important that the audience can see themselves in the characters they love.

[landwriter]

Desperate Measures | Dream/Hob | 1.2K | G v silly and fluffy, literally 90% air, dream attempts a romantic gesture, hob is a sap and forgetful, human au, part text fic

for @domaystic drabbles, Day 6: Under the Same Umbrella

---

Dream woke up to 26 texts from Hob. He put on his glasses and began his morning read. It’d replaced Times for him. The editorial quality, he thought, was far superior.

Hob (7:19 am) heading out, gave you a wee forehead kiss and you didn’t even stir. sleeping bloody beauty. love you disgustingly much x

Hob (7:26 am) couldn’t find my umbrella anywhere can you take a look if it’s not too much of a bother? feel like i’ve gone mad

Hob (7:30 am) christ it’s bucketing down!! standing under the eaves just to tell you how much it’s bucketing down

plants will be happy at least so will my goth boyfriend ;) hope your writing goes well today love. extra atmosphere!!

Hob (8:42 am) nevermind don’t look for it remembered that i left it in my office told johanna she can use it since i’m at the archives all day anyway glad i’m not the only one who’d forget their own head if it wasn’t screwed on :) :) :)

Hob (10:11 am) you should’ve seen the look lisa gave me when i showed up had to dry myself off in the men’s w half a forest of paper towels there goes my carbon offset from walking i said christ you’re probably still in bed asleep warm dry!! lucky bastard

wish i could come back already and drip puddles all over you

Hob (10:37 am) if this keeps up i’m going to look like mr darcy in the rain on your doorstep tonight don’t worry i promise not to propose marriage while insulting you xx although i do love you most ardently

...elizabeth

Dream smiled, read them all again, contemplated, and then sent his reply.

Dream (11:01 am) Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through

Hob replied moments later.

?? you sound like a customer service agent wait you’re quoting the film you can’t reject me if i’ve not proposed to you!! yet!!!

Dream snorted. 'and I am very sorry I have caused you pain' went the line. They’d watched it last weekend. Hob had cried, and Dream had privately decided that if Hob proposed, he’d say yes. Even if it was poorly done. It wouldn’t be, though. Not if Hob was doing it. He sent a second text.

...and I am very sorry you were drenched by rain.

Then he got out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. His phone buzzed anew as he made tea and toast. He smiled at the sound. On their first date, Hob had warned Dream that he had a bad habit of annoying boyfriends over text. Dream, on his first date in six years, had wondered what it might be like to be so effusively charming that you could have enough boyfriends to form habits around them at all. He hadn’t known what to say, and Hob had ducked his head, grimacing a little, and said, “Just tell me to piss off, please, if I do? I know I can be a bit much.”

Dream believed it, because the man was telling him about his habits with boyfriends after one date. Not that he minded. And three months in, Dream had yet to tell him to piss off.

Turns out, a bit much was exactly what he’d wanted. Needed, in truth. Someone to tether him to the real world. His phone had become a modern-day lodestone in his pocket, a comforting pull of Hob-ness that would always point him back to life whenever he’d emerge, blinking and disoriented, out of the mire of his work. Work that he loved - creating worlds out of nothing, writing stories that would change people - but, coming on the age of thirty with nothing to show for it but recurring wrist strain and an upmarket flat that never had any guests, work that had also made him spend so much time apart from the rest of humanity that he was sometimes unsure how to rejoin it.

The tipping point had been when his eldest sister had found out that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else in between two of their regular dinners. Which were monthly. It had been mortifying. She’d smiled sadly, which was excruciating enough, and then gotten the gleam of a plan in her eyes, which had been far worse. “I’m setting you up,” she’d said. “I know just the guy. We go way back. I think you’ll like him.”

He had. Now, when his phone buzzed, he found himself frowning if it wasn’t Hob. (An exceedingly rare occasion.) But this time it was, of course. Four short messages sent one after the other:

hahahaha ok fine that was v good enjoy your day x

Five hours later, not even the curtain of rain awaiting him outside could douse the anticipation in his belly. An idea, he knew, was a powerful thing. Dream didn’t have an umbrella - Hob always shared with him, and would’ve apologetically nicked his if he had - so he would make the first leg of the journey as Hob did. He intended to go and get something nice, but once in the cold downpour, his resolve failed him almost at once, and he ducked into the first shop that had umbrellas in the window.

“Hiya,” said the girl at the counter without looking up from her phone.

Dream ignored her, blinking the rain out of his eyes, belatedly registering all the merchandise had a unifying theme and that he’d made a terrible mistake, borne of sheer desperation.

“Would you happen to have any other umbrellas? In black?” he asked. Hidden behind the counter, perhaps. If only you knew to ask.

The girl looked at him with an air of disbelieving reproval only accessible to teenagers and the very elderly. “You could try Boots, you know. It’s just down the street.”

Dream looked out the window. Rain torrented down. Commuters hurried past with their sensibly coloured umbrellas. From places exactly like Boots.

“Or we’ve got rain ponchos,” she added. It sounded like a threat.

“Nevermind,” said Dream quickly. “I’ll take it.”

“Enjoy your visit in London, sir,” she called out as he left.

He stepped outside and flicked open the umbrella with slightly more force than necessary.

Dream waited a few paces outside the archives, wanting to surprise Hob properly. Two separate pairs of tourists had thought he was their London Ghost Tours guide, and he was beginning to regret not holding out for longer, drenching be damned. Then Hob emerged, striding out and immediately stopping to pull out his phone. He was smiling at it. Dream smiled too, in anticipation.

A moment later his own phone buzzed loudly in his coat pocket, and Hob looked up in surprise.

“Oh my god,” he said. Then he said it again.

“I heard you needed an umbrella,” said Dream. He’d had the line already, since he got the idea. It had been very dashing and romantic in his head. It was somewhat undermined by the dreadful costuming choice that had been forced upon him.

Hob looked between Dream and the umbrella, bafflement melting into a happy laugh. He ducked underneath, pecking Dream on the lips. “I’m not sure I needed one quite this badly. Did you rob some poor tourist?”

“Unhappily, I paid for this.”

“Oh no,” said Hob, pulling away and pretending to inspect him for injury. “My poor darling. Your dignity.”

Dream sniffed. “I will recover.”

“Here,” said Hob. “I’ll carry it for you. You’ll only be guilty by association, then.”

They began walking, a bobbing Union Jack in a sea of blacks and greys. After the chief sin of ugliness, it was also a little small for two grown men, but Dream found he didn’t resent that at all, as Hob tucked him tightly into his side to keep them both dry. People gave them a wide berth. Tourists could never be trusted with umbrellas.

“You’ve rescued me, you know,” said Hob, nuzzling into his cheek.

“It wouldn’t do to have you dripping puddles all over the floors,” said Dream.

“Even if I looked terribly handsome, all wet and ardent?”

Dream bit his lip and smiled a little. “Perhaps you can be wet and ardent in the shower. Instead.”

Hob laughed again. It was Dream’s favourite sound. “Much warmer than the rain anyway. Deal.” Rain drummed down on their private nylon ceiling. “I was thinking chicken tikka masala for dinner?”

And so they made their way home, and although the rain never let up, Dream was so content and warm that he might’ve sworn they were walking in the sun.

[foldingfittedsheets]

on the topic of mattresses and pillows, first off, thank you for being a treasure and answering everyone's bed queries, secondly, i have a mattress that is at least 15 years old if not older at this point, and i prefer to sleep angled somewhere between my side and stomach due to an unfortunate overendowment of the chest. what type of mattress would you recommend, and are there any decent pillows that don't go flat and won't cause me to accidentally smother myself in my sleep?

Hmgh. Okay so first as a benchmark, our bodies needs change every 7-9 years. Replacing a bed that often is expensive but start to think of it when you hit the ten year mark. $800 over ten years is a reasonable amount for your health.

No shade at all, 15 years is getting awfully long in the tooth and will definitely be a contributing factor in sleep position. If you’re reading this and your bed is that old please consider whether it’s still meeting your needs or if you’re sleeping in a dent and putting it off. Beds are part of your health. Be nice to your sleeping body.

To your question: you’re probably gonna want to aim for something in the middle range, very soft beds are rough for stomach sleeping, but very hard is brutal for side sleeping.

For a pillow a solid memory foam, but as an erstwhile stomach sleeper I find that pulling the pillow partially under my chest helps stop the suffocating. With a solid memory foam you’re not struggling to come up for air.

And now for the line that I straight up didn’t believe before I got a nice bed: Sleeping on your side and stomach are symptoms of discomfort. The “ideal” sleep position is on your back with your head raised slightly.

See, the reason most people don’t sleep on their back is lack of low back support from the mattress. That curve in your lower back needs to get filled in for you to really be comfy. Ever found you need to keep your knees up while laying on your back? It’s shitty back support! Your body is unconsciously saying it’s not comfortable and you’re making an adjustment to accommodate that.

I truly thought this was bullshit until the first night I woke up on my new bed, flat on my back, having not moved all night long. Nothing hurt and I was freakin shook. I’ve always had a fucked up back and slept almost exclusively on my stomach. So with the right setup your sleeping position might change.

Now some people need help getting the low back support- people like I used to be who don’t weigh enough, people with difficult spines. Other people need help with breathing on their back like if you have huge massive boobies flopping every which way. Adjustable bases can go under your bed and provide the least pressure on your body to sleep well.

This isn’t always feasible for a lot of people, because fancy beds that facilitate real comfort can be expensive, not to mention moveable bases. The upshot is you can achieve some of that with pillow placement.

A pillow under your knees while sleeping on your back helps a ton. There’s angled wedges that can help prop your head up a bit while you sleep. Only ten degrees makes a huge difference for all kinds of issues. Acid reflux, sleep apnea, migraines, the list is long.

So if it’s in the stars for you to splurge don’t rule out that back sleeping might be in your future which my betitted wife has always found comfiest, bed permitting. But when you go into the store, lay how you sleep. Don’t rule out trying a bed on your back but if you sleep at an angle, lay at an angle.

I know it’s awkward to lay ass up in front of a stranger. But do it. Do it for long enough to really feel if the bed is supportive, squashing your tee-taa’s too much, if it’s letting your spine bend too far the wrong way. And ask to try it with a nice pillow that fits your body. Get a combo that works for you.

Good luck!