#maxwell jacob friedman x OFC

[majesticwren]

following this post this concept is now a fic, sorry not sorry. I'm struggling trust me. (help me)

a/n: guess who's back, back again? did you miss me? I surely missed this project :') so much. I do not expect much after I've disappeared for like 6 months but I am quite glad I've put my hands back on it. now let's all prey it sticks @dizzypenguinxd @michaelasfearless @kikigrl2951 tagging you guys only because I thought you might be interested in an update - no pressure

Trigger Warning/s: slow burn (?) but is it, childhood friends to lovers, depiction of toxic relationships, intimacy and commitment problems, childhood traumas, jealousy, possessiveness, physical and verbal abuse, bullying, hints of anti-semitism, everyone is a walking red flag, angst, fluff, smut.

Masterlist Playlist

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part V

Chapter 4.

Stella stood silent and unmoving in front of a building she had never felt so unwelcoming before. 

She felt so cold. Shivers ran up and down her spine spreading through her muscles, shaking her. Her hair stood up on the back of her neck. Her skin was crumpled by goosebumps. However, she suspected it wasn’t because of the low temperature that had dropped through the night. It was a different kind of cold she felt through her flesh. It didn’t matter how much she tried to warm up, Stella felt it deep inside her bones.

Her feet were throbbing caged in those uncomfortable heels. But there was a layer of numbness coating over her emotions leaving her feeling detached and muffled, even from pain.

It was the shock. She knew it. 

She felt more like a ghost than a real person. 

The longer she looked at herself through the reflecting surface of the sleek glass covering the entire building, the more she couldn’t recognise herself. That other woman wasn’t her. She looked out of place. Scared to her bones. Lost. Only a shadow of the woman she knew to be.

Stella truly wanted to be mad. She had every reason to be absolutely enraged towards the man who dared to make her feel so small, insignificant and fragile. But her anger was muted, like every other emotion.

She was hugging her bag high to her chest, both like a shield and because it was her most valuable possession at the moment. That and her damn shoes.

She had run barefoot on the cold concrete of the sidewalk for a few blocks. She ran for an indefinite amount of time, getting as much distance and turns between herself and the violence she had left behind. She had run until she had finally felt safe enough to stop and catch her breath. That was the moment Stella had crumbled on herself as her adrenaline started to wear off and panic set through. 

She could still feel how the cold night air had burned through her chest. 

Her body still felt so sore and shaken. It hurt even in places that weren’t hit. It was hurting all over. Her head still felt heavy, but at least her pounding pain had started to wear off. And she wasn’t bleeding, that was a good thing too.

The skin on her face was on fire as hot tears cut through her cheeks leaving red marks behind. She couldn’t stop crying. As soon as she managed to get on a taxi, barely feeling safe closed up in the space of a backseat, despair hit her. 

She had just never felt so lost and alone, surrounded by a detached city like only Manhattan could be. It was one of the most beautiful places on Earth, and yet, that night, as cold crept through its streets, lit by all its pretty lights, it felt far from home.

“Miss?” The sudden stranger’s voice breaking the flow of her thoughts surprised her. Or better, startled her. “Can I help you?” Even though his tone was gentle, Stella still flinched and took a step back, looking for some distance between her and the doorman that approached her. 

She knew him. His name was Vanya. His voice was bent under a strong and familiar Eastern European accent. Somehow that helped her feel more at ease. 

He had been working there for years now. Always on the night shift. Higher pay, as he had said. She had known him ever since Max had moved into that building and consequentially, her visits became a usual occurrence. Although it didn’t sound like Vanya recognised her. Not yet at least. Funny that, she must have looked like a homeless person or a crackhead. Yeah. That was the one. A wonderer lost in the night off their heads on too much drugs. 

God, she must have been standing there for a long time if Vanya decided to finally go and check on her.

“Hi, Vanya,” she started, her voice was shaking and yet Stella still pushed out a smile, trying her best to pretend that everything was alright.

“Miss Stella?” His surprise was almost hurtful, “what has happened to you?” 

She raised her chin, swallowing the bile that had just come up her throat only thinking about it. She bottled it all up, doing what she did best, putting on a brave face. Stella tried to dry her tears, “Please,” she started, hiding her need to scream behind a soft tone. “I’d just like to go upstairs if that is ok with you.”

Vanya nodded and was ready to get to the door and open it up for her, letting her through. As they walked through the entrance to the lifts, an awkward silence fell between them. She could feel his looks. She knew he had questions. But she kept not giving it any attention. 

She let him do his job, calling her a lift. 

“Shall I accompany you upstairs, Miss?” Vanya wondered, trying to be helpful.

“No, thank you Vanya. I am fine.” 

Vanya still stood by her side, waiting patiently for the lift with her.

She should have called the police. She should have told him. Hell, she should have shouted to the world what had just happened, just so Greg could be torched. But she didn’t. Not yet. Tomorrow. She would have gone through with her battles tomorrow. Now, she needed to hide and recover.

Funny that the first place she thought to go and look for shelter was Max’s.

Even with everything that had happened with him that day and knowing she probably wasn’t welcome anymore, Stella still chose to go and hide at his place. 

She could have got a room in any hotel in town but she knew she would have lost her mind if she went anywhere else. Max’s place was the only one that felt safe.

“When will Mr MJF return home, Miss?” He wondered casually. She knew Vanya was trying to look after her, possibly out of pity or concern because her face had started to bruise up and it was undeniable she was in bad shape. But she didn’t ask him to.

“Tomorrow night.” Not that she had the right to be expecting him.

“You will get me if you need anything, Miss?”

“Thank you, Vanya, I will.” She still offered a polite, bland smile, hopping on the lift as soon as the doors opened.

“Goodnight, Miss Stella,”

“Goodnight,”

She waited patiently for the lift to get upstairs avoiding looking into any reflective surface. The last thing she needed was to catch a clear glimpse of her condition.

Stella slowly made her way into Max’s apartment, acting controlled. She fiddled with her keys as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Unlocked the door. She got through. Locked it. And disabled the alarm. Just like that was yet another night she decided to spend at Max’s.

Knowing perfectly well how his house worked, she knew he would have got a notification that exact instant since the door alarm went off. So, she turned towards the security camera placed in the corner. He would have seen the feed as soon as he would have checked his phone.

“I am sorry, I don’t have my phone on me. I didn’t have a way to warn you. I will be gone by tomorrow, I promise.” She started explaining, “I won’t be an inconvenience. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She didn’t even know why she had said that. It’s not like it was true. But it was, in a way. 

There was nowhere safer for her. Even when Max wasn’t there. Not that she had the right to claim his space as anything at all to her. But she had decided to be selfish. It was what she needed and she would have taken it. 

Stella could have easily lied to herself. On the contrary to any hotel room, she could have found a fresh change of clothing at Max’s without having to go through the inconvenience of shopping for it. That was enough of a useful, proactive reason to be there, right?

But she had no intention of lying anymore. She was there because thinking about Max was the only thing that kept her from drowning.

Looking right into the black eye of the camera, Stella slowly started to feel overwhelmed. The air was tight around her. Her skin too. It made her feel itchy and uncomfortable.  

She dropped her bag and kicked off her shoes. The soles were stained by blood. 

Stella choked. She felt her chest sealing shut, pressed down by the pressure of panic. She stripped off the cardigan, throwing it on the ground. It wasn’t her clothes. It wasn’t her skin either, yet she wanted to rip it all off. She felt the need to scream and rip her hair out. 

But then, just like breathing fresh air, she was distracted by the soft chime of a tiny bell approaching. Looking down, Stella almost gasped as soon as she noticed Piper reaching for her and curling around her ankles, welcoming her with purrs.

She had never been so grateful to a cat before in her life. 

“Hello lovely,” Even when her throat was sealed, she still pushed out some words, trying her best to greet the real lady of the house. She picked Piper up and held her close to her chest, happy not to find resistance from the animal and appreciating the cat bumping her little head under her chin. The vibration of her purrs spread into her chest, calming her down. 

She needed a hot shower. She needed to wash off the phantom feeling of Greg’s hands on her body. She could still smell the booze in the air, it burned her nose and made her stomach twist. 

A hot shower would have fixed it all. That and maybe a drink. Or two.

More than anything, Stella needed a minute to assess the situation. She needed to know what to do with herself. She was a lawyer. She knew better than anyone how it was vital that she had a plan.

But she felt too tired. Thinking was exhausting.

Was it so bad of her to leave all her responsibilities and consequences, for tomorrow?

Stella released a soft sigh, for now, she only held Piper, going to curl up on the sofa. “Thank you,” she softly brushed her lips on the cat's head, truly grateful. 

She had decided everything else could have waited a bit longer.

Stella was woken up suddenly by a thud coming from the other room. It sounded like something heavy hit the floor. A ray of warm light cut through the bedroom from the door she had left ajar.

Stella was still disoriented by her sleep wearing off, and yet her first response was fear. She immediately jumped through the covers, alert, ignoring the pain cutting her breath short to the minimum movement she made. Panic slid under her skin, finding its way up to her neck, sealing her throat. What if Greg found her?

However, she seemed to be the only concerned one. Piper, who up to that moment was guarding her, curled up on the pillow by her head, was only bothered by Stella's jump. The cat lazily stretched on the covers, soft purrs spreading through her little body. Then, she hopped off the bed and trotted towards the door meowing happily.

“Daddy’s home?” Stella wondered as if the cat could reply to her.

Confused, she watched Piper slip into the living room and listened to the bell of her collar chime to the rhythm of her silent steps. 

“There’s my love. Did you miss me?” As soon as she heard Max’s soft voice reduced to a whisper coming from the other room, her only desire was to leap into his arms. “Of course, you did.” He continued, talking to his cat. Stella felt her heart jump out of her chest and ran to him. A hot shiver crossed her. It was the first time in hours she had felt warmth building back up inside of her.

She didn’t know what time it was and it didn’t matter. For a moment she wondered if she had passed out cold for an entire day.

She rubbed her face, cursing herself a second after she remembered she had taken a punch right to the eye socket and it was hurting like a bitch. She could barely keep her left eye open. God, she didn’t even want to know what she looked like. Hell, probably.

Stella did to throw the covers off herself intending to slid out of bed to go meet Max but, no matter how strong her will may have been, her body didn’t allow her to move one inch. The pain was too great and her aching muscles and bones seemed to be frozen, keeping her enslaved there. The more she tried to fight against her own depleted strength, the more raging became the bite of her soreness.

Stella gave up with an exhausted huff. The more helpless she felt, the more her anger grew inside of her. And with that, guilt and fear followed. 

How was she supposed to fix the mess she had just caused? 

How could she face Max? What was she supposed to say now to justify herself?

Where was she supposed to find the courage and strength to pull a brave face and keep going on with her life after what had happened?

And what about Greg? What was she supposed to do about him? About what he had committed? 

Thinking that she had to flee, leaving him free to roam in her private space like he more pleased was enough to make her head spin and her stomach turn.

As panic started to set its icy roots through her gripping and sliding through her insides, making her mind spin out of control, Stella didn’t even notice how she wasn’t alone anymore. A set of inquisitive, hard dark eyes studied her from the door as her figure was now exposed under the hall’s light.

“Stella?” His voice, no matter the level of concern bending his tone, was like a warm caress melting into her nerves.  

Stella gasped for air, looking over into the shape of the most familiar person in the whole world to her. Part of her was still startled, terrified he’d be someone else, but, deep down, her heart had already started singing for him. She couldn’t see his face well but it was enough for her to know he looked tremendously serious and imposing. Nothing about him was relaxed, his shoulders were tensed and his fists clenched. 

“Max?” She called softly, gripping on the covers. Her voice was no more than a whisper as she desperately tried to read him. He was angry. Possibly furious. Was it at her? Was it for what she had said, ruining their friendship forever? Was it because after all of that, she still dared to seek him?

"I'm-" she tried desperately to keep a straight face, but the trembling in her voice gave her away, "I'm so sorry," as words came out, so did tears.

Something inside of him changed drastically, it was like she could hear his chest creak under pressure.

Max was by her side in a second. “Don’t you ever apologise to me, kitten,” he kicked his shoes off, “I am the one who needs to apologise.” As he moved, she was drawn to him like a magnet. “But I am here now,” he took off his button-down, “You are not alone anymore,” he continued getting into bed with her.

His words had touched her deeper than she could ever express. She had been drowning ever since she had thought they were done with. Funny that she was still convinced that the idea of losing him was the worst part of her day. And now, she felt like breathing again.

Stella didn’t even wait for him to be settled to nest into his wide chest, not finding any resistance from Max. If anything, Max did nothing but cage her in between his arms, cradling her softly. The warmth of his body spread through her like fire, driving the shadows of fear off her heart. Her chest didn’t feel so tight anymore. 

Stella inhaled his scent deeply, letting herself get used to the idea of him being there. She traced attentively her hands on his chest, making sure he wasn’t a dream.

“I got you, baby,” he whispered kissing her forehead, “I won’t leave you again.”

“It’s a mess,” Stella whispered in between sobs, hiding away in the safety of his arms. “I’m a mess.”

“We’ll fix it. I promise you everything is going to be ok.” He kept her close, lulling sweet things into her ear, trying to reassure her, “You are safe now.”

“I am sorry for what I’ve said. I am so-”

“I told you already,” his lips brushed on the top of her head as he slid a hand through her hair, holding solidly onto her, “don’t apologise to me. I don’t want to hear it.”

A wave of relief washed over her. Her guilt and uncertainty disappeared slowly, leaving her feeling empty still, but relaxed in that cocoon that represented about the only place she’d feel safe in the world. 

“I thought I had lost you for a moment,” Stella let her thoughts escape her mouth.

“You can never lose me, kitten.” 

They both smiled and then laid there, silent, enjoying each other’s embrace.

They were far from being done talking about it, she knew well. It wasn’t like a kiss on the forehead would solve the problem they carried and hid from forever. But, for now, at least, she was willing to forget about it. It was ok to pretend everything was the same as always. And it was ok to know it wasn’t anymore. It was still Max and her against the world, and she needed to cling to that thought – to that promise, not to spiral violently and disappear into the shadows haunting her.

“Thank you for being here,” Stella nuzzled into the crook of his neck, feeling her body truly relaxing for the first time in hours. The hard clutch of her nerves was melting off, allowing her to feel nothing but relief. Even the pain roaring through her body was easily downgraded to barely discomfort. “Thank you for coming back.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I’d let you go through this alone?” he said it pressing a sad smile on her forehead.

That word “friend”, stung her ego more than she was willing to admit. But Stella bit her tongue. She could have easily pointed out all the things normal friends wouldn’t do in that situation. They wouldn’t hug so tightly, needing to feel skin on skin, with tangled legs and cradling hands. But she forced herself to let it go. It was a fight for another day, she had no strength left in her to face him.

“Are you going to ask me about what happened?” 

“Not tonight,” his tone was suddenly harder, like his hold on her. But it was gone in a moment. “I just want you to sleep now. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Ok,” she accepted his decision happily. The last thing she wanted to do was to recall what had happened, especially now that she found somewhere to hide away from her memories. “Are you going to stay with me all night?”

“I am not going anywhere, baby.” He kissed her forehead again and then pressed his cheek on her head. “Now, will you try to sleep? You need the rest.”

“I’ll try,” by that point, she was already dozing off. Now that her guard was down and she finally found some relaxation, exhaustion hit her dragging her down heavily. But, this time, she wasn’t scared about being unconscious and alone any longer.

[wildchildvdm]

Criminal [MJF X OFC]

I never thought to write a One Shot about MJF. I confess I have always been a fan of Maxwell but never had the courage to say it because I lot of people I know totally hate him (Hello bestie). Honestly I never wrote something like that and I am happy to do it, despite the hardships during the sex scenes.

I thank my babes from The Super Secret Cool Club: I love you so much.

My bestie Ana (@regalityandcoffee) despite she doesn't like MJF, I love you anyway she will kill me after this one shot.

Salvatore for helping me with a lot of scenes because I need some male knowledge and my best friend is always here to catch me and help me.

My babes of the BCC with Tiddies, I love y'all so much.

I thank Gigi (@claymorexpunisher) for the huge help with the tags.

If I miss a tag please tell me because I am really bad at it. Love you all.

Rating: Mature

Summary: Diana Regal. Heir of the house of Regal and Williams. She followed her parents' footsteps and decided to be a wrestler. She traveled a lot, trained in Japan but one contract changed her life: All Elite Wrestling. Her first work in a major federation and the reunion with some old friends, the meeting with the person that turns out to be her enemy: Maxwell Jacob Friedman.

Read it here

[mjfsupremacy]

Exchange

It's me, Hi!

This is part one of a new fic I've been working on for the last few weeks, it's a reader x MJF BUT the reader has a name, it's a thing-ish. You can ignore it or like change it in your head or whatever you like, I don't dictate how you read my work, I'm just kicking my feet and blushing that you do read my work at all.

Moderate swearing throughout the entire fic. Mentions of MJF being the cringiest MFer to ever enter the country of England.

The first time you have the pleasure of making Maxwell Jacob Friedman's acquaintance, you wish it was the last.

You never minded working the night desk of the on-campus housing at your university in the three years since your first year. The pay was decent, you worked Thursdays, Fridays, and every second weekend, and you only had to work a few hours before the doors got locked and security had to be called if someone wanted to get in. You were usually tucked up safe in bed by one a.m. at the latest. For the most part it was an easy, quiet job and it gave plenty of time for studying or the chance to catch up on your reading or gaming.

It was Friday, a fairly busy one at that but the bustle hadn’t stopped you from powering through your coursework in record time. You’d finished all your homework, and the Nintendo Switch in your grasp had your full attention when the beep of a student card at the front door pulled your gaze just before midnight.

You can hear someone talking I’m a low tone and a round of flirtatious giggles follow as the pair come into view. You recognise the girl; you are pretty sure her name is Maddy. She checks a different person in every weekend you work and honestly you are kind of obsessed with her in a ‘I wish I was as cool and pretty and fun as you’ kind of way.

Probably Maddy, and her new beau, stop in front of the white desk that tucks into the wall beside the front door. You set your Switch down and hand a clipboard and pen over the short glass with a polite smile. The girl you are like 78% sure is named Maddy, takes the pen and then frowns, turning to the guy beside her. “I don’t know your name.”

He smirks, lifting the pen from her fingers and scribbling down his name and contact number. You think he looks a bit full of himself in his wine button up, pressed black slacks, and an actual Burberry scarf. His tawny hair is curly but fastidiously styled, and his skin obviously fake tanned. When he replies to her, you think that calling him ‘A bit full of himself’ was perhaps a bit polite.

“Don’t worry, Toots, I’ll have you screaming it in no time.”

A right wanker. Even worse, an American. Gross.

He all but throws the clipboard and pen at you with a saucy wink and you have to swallow down the urge to throw up. He leads a giggling Maddy away with a hand low on her back. You hang your head in the hopes of hiding your disgust, your eyes scrolling over the sign-in sheet in your hands and your nose crinkles further.

In big, surprisingly neat block lettering that takes up five lines of the list is his name; MAXWELL JACOB FRIEDMAN. Below, in a slightly smaller font was his number along with a note that read ‘call me anytime, sweet-cheeks x’

You gag, swivel your chair around to the shredder and dispose of the page without a second thought. Perhaps you put Maybe Maddy on a bit too high of a pedestal.

*

The following Thursday, you are about to pack up for the night, a well loved and overly annotated copy of Persuasion stacked on top of your laptop, waiting for you to switch the phone to after hours, lock the doors, and make your escape when you hear the familiar beep and whoosh from a few steps away.

“Hey!” A girl you’ve never seen before calls to you in a light Irish accent, all bright smiles and glassy eyes. “Is it too late to check in?”

You shake your head, offering her a small smile which quickly becomes rigid at the sight of a man in a Burberry scarf following her through the door with a familiar cocky smirk. Maxwell Jacob Friedman.

You were on your way to lock the door when they came in, so you reach over the glass to grab the clipboard and pen handing them to the girl who sighs a thank-you gratefully. You quickly dart around them to secure the door so no one else can get in without security before returning to your spot in front of the white door that leads to your spot at the desk.

You can feel him watching you and a quick glance over confirms it. Maxwell’s gaze scales your body from top to bottom, giving nothing away. You fleetingly wonder what a man with expensive taste such as him thinks of your oversized hoodie, mismatched and equally loose tracksuit pants, and lurid pink moccasins. You get your answer when his dark eyes meet yours and they are filled with a mix of amusement and distaste.

Rude.

The girl passes the sheet to him so he can put his phone number down and he takes its, scoffing at whatever she’s written, scribbling it out and then writing below it quickly. He passes it to you along with the pen before wrapping his arm around his date, throwing you a smirk and heading down the hall.

You glance down at the clipboard in your hands once they have disappeared and sigh.

Max Freeman

MAXWELL JACOB FRIEDMAN

2133 361 669

you didn’t call, gorgeous. I’m hurt. Nice sweatpants.

You key in the code to the little office that your desk chair sits in and head directly to the paper shredder again. God this guy is a prick. You really hoped you never had to see him again.

*

Two days later he walks through the door with a pretty brunette on his arm and a giant grin on his face that only grows at the sight of you.

“Desk Girl, tell me; Do you have a life or is this as good as it gets for you? I’m almost think I should feel sorry for you, I mean, I would but you have practically unfettered access to me being here which is obviously a gift.”

You actually couldn’t tell if he’s joking or not, but you are blessed from having to answer when the girl he’s with pulls her arm away from his with a scowl. “So, you’re here often then?”

You can see the exact moment Maxwell realises he fucked up and he quickly pours out an excuse to placate his new hook-up. “Yeah, yeah, I have a friend from one of my classes here! We study together a lot. That’s how I know desk girl here, right?” His dark innocent eyes meet yours and they widen dramatically as if to beg you to go along with it. The girl’s glare cuts to you and you just shrug handing him the sheet and pen for a third time.

He scribbles on the clipboard hastily, all but throwing it back at you with a scowl before grabbing his date by the hand and pulling her down the corridor. You offer a little finger wave and his glare hardens when he realises your fucking with him.

MAXWELL JACOB FRIEDMAN

2133 361 6693

way to have my back, beautiful. And here I was thinking we were friends. What do you do with these by the way. I know you aren’t keeping them; you would’ve called me by now if you were, I’m irresistible.

You rolled your eyes folded up the page and moved to the shredder for the third time. The phone rings and you tucked the sheet into your copy of The Bell Jar instead, not thinking about it again until later that night when your comfortable in bed and it falls into your lap.

Huffing a laugh, you flick it into your bedside drawer.

*

You don’t see Maxwell until your next Saturday shift two weeks later. A hopeful part of you wonders if maybe his exchange had ended or if the entire country of England had decided unanimously to reopen the Tower of London for its intended purpose. Unfortunately, he struts through the door on the arm of another girl before you can wonder if they’ll let you throw stones at him in his cell.

The girl he’s with is in your modern lit class and she waves excitedly when she spots you. Her name is Lisa and she normally stops to talk to you about books whenever she catches you at your desk.

“Hey! I was hoping you were in tonight!” Lisa gushes, lifting the flap on her messenger bag and pulling out a book. “I just finished this today and I knew you would love it. When I tell you it’s absolute trash in the best possible way, oh my God.”

You take the book with a grin, doing your best to ignore the smug looking man attached to Lisa’s hip. You set the book down beside your laptop and pass Maxwell the clipboard and pen. His fingers graze yours unnecessarily as he takes them from you.

“What are you reading?” Lisa asks peaking over at the well loved blue book on your desk, tabs and sticky notes poking out from seemingly every page. You hand it to her and her eyes instantly fill with excitement. “Egghead! I’ve wanted to read this forever. I take it you like it if the look of it is anything to go by.”

You blush and offer a shrug, “Bo Burnham always understood me.” You joke quietly. Maxwell stops scribbling and looks up at you in shock. You suddenly realise that you’ve never spoken in front of him before. He looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, learning his lesson after last time.

“You can borrow it if you like,” You offer Lisa. “I’ve read it a hundred times; besides I have a masterpiece to get around.” You tap the book she gave you wryly, before taking the offerings from Maxwell whose face is alternating between an annoyed scowl and curiosity.

“Are you sure? I love reading all your notes, you always spot hidden meanings I have no hope of catching.” Lisa asks, clutching the book to her chest. You can’t help but grin at her hopeful expression.

“I’m sure. Have fun.”

“Oh, she will.” Maxwell adds in a typical smug tone throwing an arm around Lisa’s shoulders. Lisa laughs, grabbing his hand and leading him down the corridor.

“Thanks, Ellie! I’ll drop it back once I’m finished. Have a good night!” Lisa throws over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” Maxwell adds. “Have a good night... Ellie.” You roll your eyes and fall into your chair, grabbing the clipboard on the way.

MAXWELL JACOB FRIEDMAN

2133 361 6693

So, you speak, how interesting. Irish? See I would’ve known this about you already, Doll, if you’d called, or texted, or smoke signalled. Before you lock this one away in your box of treasures, good tip is to try saving the number first.

You don’t know why you tuck the note into your textbook, but you do, and you don’t think of it again until your throwing it in your bedside table drawer with the other one.

[wrestling-all-the-time]

Flufftober 2022: Day 1

Prompt: Wearing each other’s clothes

Fandom: AEW

Pairing: Maxwell Jacob Friedman x Harper Moxley (OFC)

CW/TW: None

Word Count: 390

~

AEW was finally back in New York this week. I didn't mind the once a week travel, but it was nice to be able to get ready at home.

I looked through my closet, trying to decide what to wear for the show tonight. The only thing I had tonight was an in-ring segment with The Pinnacle. Eventually I settled on an all black outfit. I added my Gucci belt to break up the outfit a bit.

Now that the weather had gotten colder I was also able to add the black coat that Skylar had gotten me. When I moved the coat, I noticed the small box that was in the corner of the closet. I opened it to find a dark gray scarf like Max's. There were still some things Skylar had gotten me that I had yet to look at and since I was part of The Pinnacle, she probably thought it was funny.

Either way it went with my outfit so I grabbed it too.

Once Skylar and I got to the arena we went our separate ways.

I was the last of The Pinnacle to get there.

"Hey, guys," I said as I put my bag down.

"Your here late," Dax said.

"There was traffic," I said.

When I took off my coat I noticed Max watching me.

"What?" I asked.

"Where'd you get the scarf?" Max asked.

"Skylar got it for me," I said.

"Can I see it?" Max asked.

I handed it to him and he looked it over.

"Where'd she get it?" Max asked.

"I would assume a store," I said.

"Wrong," Max said.

"What do you mean wrong?" I asked.

"It's mine," Max said. "Look."

He showed me where his initials were embroidered.

"Last time she was over she took it," Max said.

"She must've hid it in my closet," I said.

"That would explain why I didn't find it when I looked for it," Max said.

"Well, you've got it back now," I said. "Sorry about that."

"Here," Max said, handing the scarf back to me. "You keep it."

"Wait, really?" I asked.

"Yeah, I already replaced it," Max said. "Besides, it looks better on you anyway."

"Oh, well, thanks," I said with a smile. "I actually really like it. I can see why you wear yours all the time."

[a-bang-for-your-bucky]

Welcome Home Part 5

A/N: Holy shit it has been a long time. BUT here it is.

Summary: Peyton finds her life being flipped upside down again.

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC (Peyton Rhodes), MJF x OFC (Peyton Rhodes).

Scurrying away from each other, Kenny went to answer the door, while I straightened out my top. He pulled it open to reveal Don, who was pacing in the hallway. He looked into the room and his eyes locked on me. “Oh. She is still here.” He commented rudely, before turning his attention back to Kenny.

“What’s up, man? We were kinda in the middle of something.” Kenny told him, and Don nodded, looking at his disheveled state with disappointed eyes.

“Yeah, I see that. I’ve called a meeting. She needs to go.” Don’s voice was callus as he completely dismissed me. I scoffed, gathering my things. Kenny turned to me with sad eyes. I could already tell this night wasn’t going the way I hoped.

“I’m sorry, Pey. Rain check, please?” He pleaded. I was confused, and hurt. I didn’t know what to do. I mumbled a ‘sure’ as I walked past Callis. He closed the door behind me with a loud slam.

Little did I know, that fateful night in Kenny Omega’s hotel room would change the path of my career and my life.

Months passed and I assimilated into The Elite. I was at Kenny’s side as he took on challenger after challenger. I watched as he collected gold after gold, slowly changing into someone I didn’t recognize. He was at my side as I defended my title against the likes of Nyla Rose, Riho, and Penelope Ford.

In all honesty, things were going great for The Elite as a group. Kenny had three titles to his name, The Young Bucks had the AEW Tag Team Titles, even The Good Brothers were champions. Slowly, I started to notice Kenny pulling away from me. He stopped being at ringside for my matches, we stopped hanging out after shows, and eventually he stopped responding to my messages that weren’t wrestling oriented.

The nail in the coffin of my time in The Elite was when I lost the title to Britt Baker at Double or Nothing. Britt was a great competitor and if I was going to lose to someone, I was happy it was her. As I left the ring that night, I had no idea the title wasn’t the only thing I would lose. Kenny was standing by the women’s locker room when I arrived.

“Pey, we need to talk.” He stated, ushering me into an empty room. The look on his face told me everything I needed to know. Once the door was closed behind us, he sighed. “Pey, look.” He started, “This all started with Tony pushing us together, but we knew it wouldn’t last forever. It’s time for you to leave The Elite.” Kenny decided. He didn’t really give me a choice in the matter.

“Okay.” I agreed, before adding, “I’ll put it out on my socials tonight.” It broke my heart to walk away from my best friend, but he was right, it was time. I gave him a hand shake, and left him alone.

4 months later……

Wrapping up another successful Dynamite show, I was in my dressing room, packing my gear, when Brandi walked in. I acknowledged her presence, but continued to gather my things. “Hey sis,” she started, “I just wanted to give you a heads up, Cody invited MJF to ride with us.” She warned.

I rolled my eyes. “Why does he do this to me?” I groaned, “I’ll call an Uber. I am not sitting in Cody’s truck with that loud mouth.” I did my best to avoid MJF.

“I’ll let Cody know. I don’t know why he is trying to push you two together.” Brandi leaned against the door.

“Ugh. Cody has always tried to play match-maker for me.” I moaned, annoyed with my brother’s bullshit. It was exhausting dealing with his meddling. “Thanks for the warning.” I gave her a quick hug and grabbed my bag. “I’m gonna go wait in catering until my car gets here.” I all but ran out of the room.

“Woah, slow down, Rhodes.” Moxley said as I slid into the chair next to him. He knew my brother’s bad habit of trying to set me up. He tried to set us up at one point.

“Sorry, running from my brother and his poor attempt to set me up. Again.” I explained as I laid my head on the table, letting out an exacerbated sigh.

“Who is it this time?” He asked, placing an arm around me. I was really happy Jon and I were able to move past the whole ‘Me costing him the title’ thing.

“Maxwell Jacob Freidman.” I enunciate each word. Jon erupted in laughter. I couldn’t help but join, because it was absolutely ridiculous.

“Seriously? MJF?” He snorted, still laughing at the thought. Jon and I made small talk while I waited on my car to arrive. When my phone dinged, letting me know they were here, I told him bye and went on my way.

Arriving at the hotel, I hauled my duffle out of the back seat and made my way to my room. To my surprise, my brother was standing by my door. “Hey Pey,” he said, giving me a small wave. I nodded, continuing in his direction. “ Can we talk?” Cody seemed off, like something was bothering him.

“Of course,” I answered, unlocking my door. Cody followed me in and took a seat at the small table in the corner. He gestured for me to join him. Closing the door behind us, I sat in the chair next to him.

“What’s up Code? Something wrong?” I immediately asked him, concerned. He shook his head ‘no’.

“Brandi gave me a good talking to on the way here and I wanted to say I’m sorry, for trying to play matchmaker.” Cody apologized. I gave him a sweet smile, but was cheering on the inside for Brandi being on my side.

“It’s okay, really. No need to apologize. It’s just, I’m capable of getting my own dates.” I replied, trying not to sound bitchy.

Cody nodded in agreement. “I know. I know. It's just, as your big brother, I want to kick Kenny’s ass.” I was surprised at the mention of Kenny’s name.

“What does Kenny have to do with this?” I questioned nervously, knowing exactly where Cody was coming from. He huffed a laugh, like he didn’t believe me.

“I know, Peyton. Everyone knows. You’re head over heels for your best friend, except for him. I was hoping, if I got you to go out with Max, then maybe, Kenny would get his head out of his ass.” Cody explained. My mouth dropped open.

“Code, Kenny is my ex-best friend. We haven’t really spoken since he kicked me out of The Elite. He isn’t the reason, I mean, it's just that, it's not...” I couldn’t form a sentence because Cody was right. Even though Kenny ditched me, I still had feelings for him.

Cody sat there, watching me try to form an excuse in my head, but nothing was coming together. Cody just laughed. “Look, Pey, I think we both know I’m right.”

I groaned, shaking my head. “Please, can we just pretend this conversation didn’t happen? I’ll go out with Max. I’m sure he isn’t as insufferable as his character.” I tried to reason with my brother.

Cody sighed, standing up to leave, “Fine, but one day, you’ll have to tell him how you feel.” he said, giving me his best big brother look. I nodded. One day, or maybe never, who knows.

I tried my best to get Cody’s words out of my head. The feelings I had for Kenny were my past. Or maybe they were remnants of the relationship we never got to have. All I knew was it was time for me to move on. Cody sent me a text with Max’s number. What’s the worst that could happen?

Please don't hate me

Tags: @rach-supreme93 @demonprincess13

[ilovebeingintroverted]

Fuck. I didn’t think I fall more in love with/be more turned on for this man but this fic 🥵🥵🥵

Don’t Bet Against the Devil

When she strikes up a deal with MJF , the stakes are impossibly high, and they spend the night locked in a battle that neither can afford to lose.

Pairing: MJF x OFC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut (minors dni), Rough Sex, Degradation, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Spitting, Slapping, Choking, Spanking, Hair Pulling, Semi-Public Sex, General Filth

“Go to Cole’s wedding with me.” It was a demand, not a request, and she bristled. She was sitting at the bar by herself when he slid into the seat beside her.

“Not a chance.” She said with a laugh, not taking her eyes off her phone. Max snatched it from her hands and she struggled to take it back but his arms were stretched high above her head. Glaring, she folded her arms across her chest.

“What I meant was, ‘you’re coming to Cole’s wedding with me.’” He was unfazed by her reaction; he knew this was going to take some convincing. But he had all the liquor that Philadelphia had to offer, and they had late flights tomorrow, so he was fully prepared to push the idea.

“That’s not gonna happen, Max. I’m planning on getting laid at this wedding, and coming with a date is a pretty big cock block.” She shifted her weight, leaning back in her bar stool, finally looking him over. Cocky, as usual, but it was covering a thinly veiled earnestness that she hadn’t expected. She traced the tip of her middle finger around the rim of her drink before lifting it to her lips, hoping a little more booze could help her unsee what was hiding behind his bluster.

“If you had any game, that wouldn’t make a difference.” He tried not to let his face show any of the irritation he felt, knowing it didn’t even occur to her that they might sleep together if they went as dates. “I promise you, I’d have no problem getting laid if you came with me.” She raised a brow, lips curling at the corner and dragging his eyes to them.

“Is that right?”

“Easy.” The word floated on his tongue and she shifted effortlessly toward him, crossing one leg over the other, her knee bumping his. It pulled his attention for just a moment, heat flaring out from the spot. “Guess you just don’t have as much game as me.” Her brow furrowed, lips pressed into an agitated line. He ate up her reactions to his button pushing every time.

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you with women. I’ve got ten times the game you do.” She was walking right into the trap he’d set. He gave a derisive snort, tailor made to push her right to the edge.

“You wanna bet?” He raised, and she wet her lips, challenge sparkling in her eyes. Max pulled his shoulders back, taking a swig of his drink, brow raised; he knew she couldn’t resist. “A little wager. Come with me to the wedding and prove how much more game you have by getting laid anyway.” She studied him for a moment, a flicker of caution crossing her delicate face.

“And what, exactly, do I get when I win?”

“Laid.” He retorted. She let out a lilting laugh that he couldn’t stop from smiling at before shaking his head. “What more do you want?”

“I could get laid way easier without you there. That’s hardly a reason for me to take this challenge on.” She said and he waved her off.

“Okay, fine then, if you win, I won’t go to NXT.” That comment stopped her cold. He knew it would but he didn’t expect how quickly the color would rise to her cheeks. He’d caught her off guard and she was visibly rattled.

“What?” She choked and he raised both his brows.

“Yeah, your dad made me an offer last week. An unprecedented type of offer for the fastest rising star in professional wrestling.” He was laying it on thick, blowing on his knuckles, but it seemed to be working. “But win the bet and I will stay right here in AEW with you.” She stammered for a moment before finally clearing her throat and shaking her head, desperately ignoring the pit in her stomach.

“What makes you think I care that much about where you wrestle?” It was unconvincing but Max played into it nonetheless, clutching at his chest as though she’d shot him.

“First of all, ouch.” He pouted at her and she stifled a laugh. “Second of all, I know you. And I know you don’t want me to leave.” Rolling her eyes, it was her turn to wave him off. “Alright fine, we’ll pretend you don’t care. Let’s raise the stakes, then. If you win, not only will I stay, but I will let ole TK know that I’m not going to re-sign unless he finally gives you your shot at the title.”

That had the gears turning in her head. She had been working her ass off since the moment she stepped through the doors but nothing seemed to be enough. No matter how great her matches were, no matter how hard the crowd rallied behind her, she couldn’t even make it into a qualifying match. But it wasn’t in her nature to let Max off the hook without teasing.

“Oh, so you don’t think I’m talented enough to get a title shot on my own?” But her teasing didn’t hold; he just gave her a knowing look.

“Please. We both know it’s not your talent that’s kept you from holding that title.” He watched closely as she sipped at her drink, hiding her expression behind the rim. “Khan still doesn’t know that he can trust you not to pull a Medusa.” That got a sharp, single laugh from her, directly into her drink. “He’s worried that the second he puts the gold on you, you’re gonna take that belt straight to the fed and dump it in the garbage.”

“That’s not my style.” She said. “At the very least, I’m gonna be original.” That tilted smile of hers made his stomach hurt. The smile slowly faded, though, as she mulled over his words. She couldn’t deny there was likely some truth to them. “You really think you could get me a shot?”

“I’m positive. With the amount of money your pops is offering, I’ve got all the leverage in the world. And, hell, I’ll even offer to take a pay cut from my current contract if that’s what it takes.” His expression seemed as genuine as was possible from him but she still wasn’t sure she believed him. Her and Max were friends - they had been since she came to AEW. She had been a member of the Pinnacle until they disbanded and now she was one of the only friends he had left. She trusted him...maybe only slightly further than she could throw him, but that was still more than most people trusted him.

"So what do you get if I can’t manage to get laid?" She was sure it was going to be steep if he was going to gamble his career decision over it. Max cocked his head, a crooked smile hanging broadly across his face.

“If I win, you come with me to NXT.”

“No.” Her voice was sharp and the bite alone should have had him backing down but he didn’t scare easily. “No way.”

"What? Doubting your ability to win?" He watched carefully as her tongue traced her bottom lip before she pulled it between her teeth. Swallowing the lump that threatened to rise in his throat, he pursed his lips in a faux-bravado. “If you're as confident in your game as you say, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Face stony, she held his gaze. She didn’t back down from a challenge. And she was fairly certain that she could win if she really put in some effort.

“I’m not worried.”

But the stakes were undoubtedly high and the tension higher in the air between them as they studied each other, silently considering if they really wanted to do this.

“Great, so it’s a date, then, Princess?” He extended a hand toward her and her gaze dragged from his thick fingers up to his eyes.

She slipped a reluctant hand into his, ignoring the way her skin buzzed. His grin, sparkling and mischievous, stretched across his handsome face, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was making a deal with the devil.

——————————

Max slipped his arm through the sleeve of his pressed shirt, the fabric clinging to his bicep. He watched in the mirror as he fastened the bottom three buttons before his eyes snagged on the reflection of a bookcase across the room, a glimmer shining atop a stack of books. Abandoning his task, he turned to take a look.

He had flown in earlier that day for Adam and Britt’s wedding and, because his date only lived ten minutes from the venue, he was getting ready at her house. She had been guilted into letting him take the guest room when he forgot, maybe not quite as mindlessly as he let on, to book a hotel room. It took a bit of conjoling, and the promise that he would find somewhere else to crash if she did, in fact, get someone to come home with her, but he inevitably got his way.

Truthfully, though, he was getting a little worried this bet was counter productive. He had asked her to the wedding because he wanted to spend more time with her. Since the Pinnacle had disbanded, he hadn’t seen nearly as much of her and it had caught him by surprise, how much he cared. He found himself thinking about her far more often than he wanted to. He couldn’t even really put his finger on why at first - she was hot headed and difficult and poked fun at him more than he tolerated from anyone else. All he kept coming back around to was the idea that he should be glad to be seeing less of her. And yet.

Lost in thought, his finger trailed along the top of a row of books before spotting a picture frame that was facedown on the top of the bookcase. Picking it up, he took in the photo staring back at him. She was wearing the NWA Women’s Title, tucked between Hunter and Stephanie as they sported their proudest looks.

A knock at the door startled him and he hastily tucked the photo back on the shelf. He didn’t get the chance to move further from his spot when the door open and she stepped inside, arm tucked behind her as she fiddled with the zipper of her dress.

“Can you zip me uhhh…” Her request trailed off when she saw him, stopping in her tracks, halfway across the room. “Up.” The word was just an exhale. She’d seen Max shirtless plenty of times but something about him, half dressed, in the confines of her house was setting her off kilter.

Max’s breath had caught in his throat the moment he spotted her, dark dress pooling on the floor, draping from her body where the zipper was undone. He struggled against his eyes’ natural draw to the plunging neckline but failed spectacularly. Any embarrassment he might have felt quickly abated when he saw the hungry look in her eyes, though, glued to his bared chest.

He padded across the room toward her, heat ratcheting higher with every step, and he thought she might just start backing away from him but she seemed to be plastered to the floor. Coming to stand behind her, he stopped close enough that he could smell her shampoo, and brushed her hair over her shoulder, fingers grazing her skin. She shivered at the feeling and he relished in it, letting the pads of his fingers trail down the line of her spine. Goosebumps raised along her soft skin as his breath fanned over the back of her neck.

“I hope you know, I’m not going to make this easy on you tonight.” His voice was a low rumble against the shell of her ear, his lips nearly making contact. Her belly tightened in response and it took everything in her not to press her ass back into him.

He took his time, dragging the zipper up into place while she held her breath. Despite their time together, she had never allowed this kind of closeness between them before and the feeling was knocking her legs out from under her. She wasn’t prepared for the way her skin tingled at his touch. Though, if she was being honest with herself, she thought it might be the case - there was a reason for the distance. And with the tonight’s challenge ahead of her, it was too real.

His hands, manicured but still rough from his time in the ring, smoothed over her shoulders. As he went to move them around to her collarbones, her hand came up to stop him in his tracks. He was getting too close. Too close. Too real. That wasn’t how they were - it couldn’t be. She needed to get her composure back. She couldn’t let him get in her head if she was going to win tonight.

She spun on her heel to face him but found herself much too close to him, their breaths mingling between them. Her eyes slowly drew up to meet his, finding a need in them that made her mouth dry. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced a confident smile to her face - she was going to get back on track no matter how badly her body was betraying her.

“I have no intention of ending the night unsatisfied.” Control. She needed to get back in control of this situation. Reaching down in the tight space between them, she nimbly fastened the buttons of his shirt, one by one, his chest rising and falling with his breathing. He watched her, heat palpable in his expression, and she began to wonder what he really wanted out of this night. Fastening the final button, she patted his chest twice and took a few steps back. “Finish getting dressed. We need to get going.” She scurried out of the room; god, she was in trouble.

——————————

Heat crept up Max’s neck as he watched her from the bar. He’d just gone to get the two of them drinks and she had immediately slipped into the crowd, quickly finding some piss poor excuse for a man to sidle in a step too close to. She was batting her lashes and working harder than a girl as beautiful as her should need to work.

“Can you speed it the fuck up?” Max spat at the bartender, hand curled into a tense fist, but instantly regret the venom, wondering if he was now just going to end up with spit in his drink. He could hardly stop himself, though. It wasn’t that he cared about losing the bet - he knew he could succeed damn near anywhere at this point, and he had guaranteed that she would be wherever he ended up so it was a no lose situation…but as he watched her flirt across the room, it became increasingly clear to him that there was definitely a way for him to lose.

He was out of his seat the second the drinks were finished, pushing his way through the crowd until he reached her. She was cozied up, doe eyed at a slimy looking man in an ill fitting suit. Max refrained from rolling his eyes. Slipping an arm around her waist, he yanked her in close, careful not to spill the drink in his hand. She froze up under his touch, heat swimming up her spine.

“Got your Bellini, Princess.” Max delighted in the way her suitor’s face fell, taking a step and a half back from them.

“Max, I -“

“Yeah, I know, babe. Prosecco not champagne.” He directed his attention back to the uncomfortable face across from them. “Nothing to be done about bad taste, am I right?” Max ran his tongue along the back of his teeth with a pointed grin, watching as the guy grimaced, nodding.

“I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend…I’ll uh…see you around, I guess.”

“No, no, he’s not-“ She tried to defend but he was already backing his way into the crowd to find some other hapless girl lowering her standards.

Max released his grip on her waist, leaving her colder than expected and with a full understanding of what she was up against tonight - he wasn’t afraid to play dirty. He was already laughing before he caught sight of the boiling anger on her face. Color flooded up through her cheeks and brows knitted, she snatched her drink from his hand.

“I should kill you.” She meant her voice to come across more menacing but fell short and Max responded with a patronizing smile.

“You’re so cute when you’re all worked up.” He ruffled her hair and she smacked his hand before smoothing it back into place. “If this is the best you’ve got, winning this bet is going to be even easier than I thought.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to this bet if I thought you were gonna play dirty.”

“It’s not playing dirty- it’s playing smart.” He clarified. “If you don’t want to play anymore, you can feel free to give up.” Wetting his lips, he took a sip from his drink.

“Not a chance. Now that I know what I’m up against, I can adjust my strategy.” She squared her shoulders, shooting back the rest of her cocktail before shoving the glass back into Max’s chest. “Nothing I can’t handle.” He stifled a smug laugh, nodding with raised brows.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

The song that was playing slowed to a stop and she attempted to slip back into the crowd. Max was close on her heels, though, and she blew a sharp breath out her nose. Spinning abruptly on her heel, he bumped into her chest, not bothering to step back out of her space when her eyes panned up to his. She ignored the subtle smell of his aftershave and the way heat flared in her chest.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room. Don’t follow me.” She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away and fought against the smile that tugged at her lips.

——————————

As the night wore on, she found herself beginning to enjoy their game. The cat and mouse act was becoming a routine. He’d spent the majority of the evening with an arm wrapped around her waist, whispering taunts in her ear that looked far more salacious to any onlookers - though she couldn’t deny the way goosebumps raised up her spine every time.

She had managed to slip away again, Max nowhere to be seen as she chatted with a man that she had already forgotten the name of.

“You really are gorgeous.” He wasn’t unattractive, perhaps a bit over manicured, but still conventionally handsome. But even as he complimented her and brought her one step closer to winning her bet, she couldn’t help but glance around the room, searching for that cocky grin.

“Oh, thank you.” Noticeably distracted, she offered an apologetic smile. She hated that she was thinking about him; that she was enjoying playing with him - it was knocking her off her game and the stakes were too high for her to lose.

“Do you want to dance?” He really was trying to serve her victory up on a plate to her. But, damn it if she wasn’t the worlds worst dancer. The song playing faded into nothing and he offered a hand to her. Swallowing a grimace, she accepted it - she didn’t have much of a choice if she wanted to win tonight.

He led her further onto the dance floor as a slower song began, floating across the room. With his hands settling at her waist, she moved in a step closer. But the moment her hands landed on his shoulders, she spotted Max, standing just behind him. Their eyes met in a fiery, silent confrontation before a malicious smile rose to his face. He tapped the guy’s shoulder, quickly righting his expression.

“Are you seriously dancing with my girl?”

“I’m not your-“

“Who the hell do you think you are, pal? Disrespectful sack of shit. Trying to dance with another man’s girl. Especially when she could not have been more obvious that she wasn’t interested in your lanky ass.” He spoke over her protestations, leaving no room for either of them to object. He’d been watching her from across the room; he saw her looking for him instead of focusing on this guy, and he knew that the guy saw it too. It wasn’t a stretch to say she looked disinterest, which played right into his hand and, if he was being honest, bolstered his already inflated ego. “I should hit you. Get the fuck out of here”

Skittering away, he left the two of them alone, and Max quickly slipped into the space he’d left. His arm roped around her waist, pulling her in tight to him, as his other hand clasped hers at their sides. She attempted to pull away but he tutted, shaking his head.

“As my date tonight, I’m pretty sure you owe me at least one dance.” His assertion typically would have rubbed her the wrong way - she didn’t owe anyone anything - but something in the pit of her stomach was softening to Max in a way that she was struggling to fight against. Rolling her eyes, she let her muscles relax and looped a hand up over his shoulder, fingers dangling just below the back of his neck.

“You’re really making tonight impossible for me.”

“That’s my job, doll.” That stupid, cocky grin. God, it made her crazy.

“Okay, well I don’t know who hired you, but you can consider yourself officially relieved of your duties.” She said, and he snorted, full lips curled up.

“If that’s your way of saying you quit, you can just say that.” He wet his lips as he lead their steps, making their motions effortless. She hated that dancing with him came so easily.

“You wish.” Rolling her eyes, she scoffed. His fingers thrummed against her lower back and chills ran up her spine. Their eyes connected and she let out a heavy breath before pulling her gaze away. “Why do you even want to go to NXT anyway? You know they’re just going to make you tone yourself back.” Her eyes flicked to his and then away again. “And you’ve certainly got it made for yourself here. You’re on track to be the youngest AEW world champion ever.” He went to open his mouth but she stopped him. “And don’t say it’s because of money. We both know you’re not nearly as shallow as you pretend.” He licked his lips and paused as he considered her.

“I mean it’s the dream, isn’t it?” He shrugged. “Win the Royal Rumble, go on to win the title in the main event of Wrestlemania. I’ve been dreaming about it since I was old enough to walk.” His sincerity sat heavy in his gut and he kept his eyes trained at the wall beyond her as they moved. “AEW has been amazing. It’s been…I mean it’s a dream come true too, in its own way…but I guess that’s always been the big dream. What I’ve been working towards since I was 10.” He shook his head, quieting. “I almost gave up on it once, I can’t do that again. I won’t let myself give up on it twice.”

She allowed herself to study him while his gaze was elsewhere. Heavy brows furrowed in a serious, reflective expression. She knew about his time in college but he generally didn’t like to talk about it - an uncommon time of weakness in his life.

“So all of this,” she waved circles in the air behind his head, “is all to appease ten year old you?” His eyes drifted back to her, a tender, innocent smile on his face.

“Shouldn’t it be?” He held her gaze and her chest squeezed. She didn’t have an argument for that. Laying her head on his shoulder, she allowed herself a moment to slip, but it didn’t last. “Honestly, what I don’t get is why you don’t want to go to NXT.” His voice drew her back to the present. “I mean, would it really be that bad?” It was hard to miss the cloud that passed over her face but she tried valiantly to redirect it into humor.

“Going to NXT with you?” She scrunched her nose. “Yeah, that would be a nightmare.” He gave her a measured look, finally meeting her eyes again, and she knew he could see right through her. He really was one of the only people who could and she hated it. As much as she teased him about being the only friend he had, she was, admittedly, a bit lacking in that department as well.

“I’m serious. Talk about having it made.” He shook his head ruefully. “You would’ve been giving my fastest rising star shtick a run for it’s money.” She sighed and tilted her head from side to side before blowing out a breath.

“I mean, that’s part of the problem though, you know?” She hesitated, holding his gaze. “I spent such a long time in the indies because I needed to prove myself. I have put so much effort into trying to show people that I’m willing to work for it; getting their support…it means everything to me.” She shook her head, eyes stuck on his. “I’ve seen what happens when the fans think you’re getting something that you don’t deserve. All that goodwill that I’ve earned, that I’ve worked so hard for, could be undone in the span of a few months.”

“Fan support is overrated. You’re seriously going to let them stand in the way of your dreams?” He tried not to be distracted by the feeling of her thumb rubbing against the nape of his neck.

“That’s crap and you know it. You can say what you want on TV but don’t think that I don’t notice how much you eat up every bit of their reactions.”

“Right, being booed and universally hated is great. You know I get spit on in public?” He rolled his eyes and she lightly smacked the back of his head.

“Yeah, and you love it.” She gave him a scolding look and he tried to smother a smile. “Come on Max, let’s not pretend that you don’t have some of the best reactions someone could hope for in this business.” He looked at her with a hint of the sincerity that was so uncommon to see in him, the sincerity that made her chest ache. He wanted to argue her point but he knew that he couldn’t. “I’m going to prove to people that I have what it takes to make it in this business on my own. On my own merit. That’s just not something I could do in WWE.” She was quiet for a moment, reflecting on the thoughts that brewed deep in her head late at night. “I needed to prove to myself that I had what it takes to make it on my own. Because sometimes…” she paused but couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “…sometimes I’m not sure that I do.”

Max stopped them in their tracks, forcing a couple dancing close by to swerve to avoid them. His full lips parted, brows drawn.

“You can’t be serious.” He was nearly glaring at her, her gaze averted and cheeks flushed, until he brought a hand up to her face, gripping her chin between his fingers, and forced her to meet his eyes. “Listen to me. Your name wasn’t going to be the only reason you made it to the top in WWE. You’re undeniable.” She tore her chin away but it didn’t stop him. “You’ve got more star power in your pinky finger than anyone in the last decade.” Squirming, she grimaced, uncomfortable hearing his sincerity out loud. He wasn’t one for compliments and it made her stomach warm.

“I’m just not sure that’s true…” She trailed off, breathless under the the intensity of his gaze. “Let’s be honest, Tony never would have signed me if it weren’t for my parents.”

Struck by the sudden vulnerability in her whispered words, she pressed her face into his chest, hoping to avoid whatever expression was on his face now. This entire night was turning out to be a bit too much for her. Max nudged his nose against the top of her head placing a delicate kiss against her hair that she tried to pretend she didn’t feel, but the quiet smile smothered into his shirt said otherwise. He wanted to tell her just how special she was, but he was starting to worry that he was going to send her running if he pushed any further. So they stayed like that, pressed close to each other, and his hand ghosted down her frame, back into place by her hip. He urged her back to their dancing, swaying and circling to the lilting music that floated all around them, blissfully unaware that the song they’d started dancing to had already ended. His chest was ablaze with the feeling of her skin on his. He could smell her shampoo, overwhelming his senses. But as the moments ticked by, he couldn’t physically stop himself from continuing.

“So, when we were at your house earlier, I may have been snooping a little…” His voice had her glancing back up at him. She chuckled, the noise immensely pleasing to his ears.

“No kidding,” She was immediately back to her amused teasing - it was so much easier, “you mean to tell me, that when I walked in on you scrambling to put the picture of my parents back where you found it, it wasn’t just because you were using the glass as a mirror?” He sucked at the inside of his cheek; he was really hoping she hadn’t noticed that.

“Okay, maybe I’m not as slick as I thought. But that picture got me thinking…”

“I was so hoping it wouldn’t.” She cut in, but he continued on regardless.

“It’s just…you don’t really talk about them. I’ve known you for a while now; I’d like to think we’re…friends.” He swallowed as she tilted her head from side to side as if weighing the accuracy of his statement, but her smile told a different story. She wasn’t used to this stammering, nervous version of him. “But I don’t think I’ve ever heard you, even once, talk about your parents.” She wet her lips, eyes fluttering closed as she decided how honest she wanted to get with him.

“Since I came to AEW, we don’t talk much.” She paused and he was quiet, waiting for her to continue. “As in… Not at all.”

“At all?” He echoed incredulously. “Not even at the holidays? Or on your birthday?” She gave a minuscule shake of her head and he narrowed his eyes. “You told us you couldn’t come out with us on your birthday because you had plans with your family.”

“Yeah, that amounted to staying home with my cats and feeling sorry for myself.” The words slipped out before she could stop them and she winced. She hadn’t needed anyone to see her like that. She didn’t need the pity and she certainly didn’t need anyone feeling like they needed to fix her. And based on the mixture of devastation and anger in his eyes, she’d made the right call.

“That is fucking unbelievable.” He scoffed and she chewed at her bottom lip. She would have given anything to escape this conversation. “What kind of backwards ass shitty parenting is that?”

“You’re one to talk. I saw the signs your parents brought to your hometown show. ‘We’re MJF’s parents and we think he sucks too’?” It was a blatant diversion tactic but Max wasn’t taking the bait. Jokes weren’t going to dig her out of this conversation

“Please, you met my parents. You know that’s all done out of love.” He shook his head. “My parents are, and always have been, my biggest supporters, your parents should be doing the same for you.” She sucked in a breath.

“Well let’s just say, my decision to come here was a divisive one for the family.” She raised her brows, lips pressed into a tight line. She didn’t even know why she was telling him this. “Gramps didn’t appreciate my need to strike out on my own, and he writes the paychecks that pay for the house.”

“You’re kidding.” Max was incredulous, shaking his head as if it would change the truth.

“I wish.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He wet his lips and she pulled her eyes away. “I can’t believe I didn’t know that.” The way he was looking at her was unbearable.

“It’s not even worth talking about.”

“It is, though. It’s not something you should have to deal with alone.” He brushed a thumb over the small of her back and it warmed her from the toes up. She couldn’t summon a response, her gaze trapped on him, drawn to his lips. Leaning closer, he pressed his forehead to hers and she let her eyes close for a moment before turning her head to rest it on his shoulder.

They were quiet again for a moment, moving seamlessly across the floor. And for just a moment, she found herself wishing this song would never end.

“I would think this is just another reason you’d be happy to move to NXT.” He said, breaking her spell. “You go back home, you can put all this behind you. You get your family back.” She chewed at her lip before letting out a big breath and shaking her head.

“My parents didn’t support me doing what I needed to for myself. I’m not interested in derailing my life for them. If they want a relationship with me, they know where to find me.”

As the music slowed to an end, so did their dancing. They stopped, only a breath away from each other. She looked up at him, deep chocolate eyes looking back at her, full of the understanding she’d been missing for the last year. The feeling in the pit of her stomach jolted her out of his arms and back a few steps. She swallowed hard and shook the feeling from her head, running a hand through her hair.

“Okay, you got your dance, now I…I have a bet to win.” She tried not to focus on the way Max’s tongue smoothed across his bottom lip. He, truthfully, had nearly forgotten about the bet in the course of their dance. By now, he was largely regretting having raised it in the first place. He sighed, giving her one last sincere look before reverting to the confident sneer she was so used to.

“May the best man win.”

——————————

With the night drawing towards it’s end, guests were beginning to filter out, right alongside her hopes at winning this bet. As important as winning was to her, she wasn’t about to abandon her standards just for a bet. She had found a few more men to talk to throughout the course of the night but Max was always right there, just around the corner, waiting, poised to strike.

His latest interruption was nothing short of a performance. He’d made quite a show of confronting her with allegations of cheating and betrayal that swiftly drove off a promising option.

She was, admittedly, starting to get a little nervous. She had been surveilling the remaining guests at the reception and her prospects were getting slimmer and slimmer. With her nerves, came a bit of a temper - her patience for Max’s antics was withering down to nothing. So when he chased off one of the last viable options in the room, she snapped.

Snatching him at the elbow, she dragged him off the dance floor, and he raised both brows with a grin, fully satisfied knowing he was pushing her over the edge. She led him through the double doors, into the hall by the restrooms, before shoving both his shoulders hard against a wall.

“What the fuck is your problem?” She demanded but his smug, false innocence, written over every inch of his face, only ratcheted up her anger.

“No problem here, Princess. Just playing the game.” But his shoulder blades colliding with the wall more forcefully told him she wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“You’re making a god damn spectacle! You’re fucking enjoying this!” She was seething - flushed from her hairline down into the plunging neck of her dress. Max was struggling not to acknowledge the way his stomach tightened with her standing this close, pushing him around, and swearing. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by how badly he wanted to flip her around and put his fingers in that bratty mouth. Fuck. “I had a serious chance with that last guy until you put on your little show! And it could have ended up being more than just an end to this stupid bet!” His patience for this situation waned; she was lying to both of them if she was going to pretend this latest guy was anything more than a sorry excuse for a win. “This isn’t what I fucking agreed to!” She shoved him again but this time he snatched her wrist, holding it tight in the space between them. Her eyes blew open, finally taking a breath and realizing just how close their bodies were. Max’s jaw shifted, eyes ablaze and fully set on her - it wasn’t quite anger in them but she couldn’t place that intensity.

“If he was such a catch and you were so close, then why are you here with me?” He shot back and she only gaped at him. “Why didn’t you chase after him and explain the situation? Why not run him down and tell him that I’m some crazy stalker who won’t leave you alone? Or that I’m your cousin, playing a prank on you? There were a million ways to explain me away if you wanted to. But instead you’re here with me.” She tried to form some kind of response - any response - but couldn’t focus much past the electricity pulsing down her arm from the spot his fingers were wrapped around. “In fact, this entire night! You could’ve started off every conversation you had tonight with a warning about me so they knew that I was nothing to worry about when I came along but you didn’t. You just waited for me to interrupt and then stammered like an idiot every time.” Pressure built in her chest as Max careened toward a point, “You didn’t even try to make excuses for me. You didn’t do a goddamn thing; you let me chase every single guy away tonight. And we both know why - it’s because you’re enjoying yourself!” He finally dropped her wrist with a bit of force and her focus came flooding back alongside a wild need to deny how right he was - how much he knew her.

“You’re out of your goddamn mind!” She shouted back at him, shaking her head petulantly. “What the hell is there to enjoy about tonight? All I fucking wanted was to get laid!” But he didn’t let up, he’d gotten started now and he knew that if he was ever going to do this, the time was now.

“Then why is it that you smiled more tonight when I was bothering you then you did in any other moment?” He knew he needed to slow down and take the time to get this exactly right but he was too keyed up and heat was threatening to escape out his ears “Why is it that your eyes lit up every single time I interrupted you? Why did you spend every minute that I wasn’t next to you, looking around the room for me?” He demanded and her eyes were nearly blown out. “You could’ve gone home with any one of the guys that you talked to tonight but you didn’t. In spite of me, you could have gotten laid tonight. But you didn’t want to.” Her brows pushed together in a haughty, barely restrained anger. “Because you were having too much fun chasing me off and playing this game! Maybe it’s time you admit that you blew this bet because you’ve got feelings for me.”

“Oh, fuck off, you narcissistic piece of shit.” She hissed. “Maybe it’s time you admit that the reason you can only get one night stands is because anyone that gets to know you realizes you’re the most insufferable son of a bitch on the planet.” He tried to remind himself that she was lashing out for a reason but it didn’t lessen his desire to fuck that attitude out of her.

“That’s really something coming from the person that knows me better than anyone else.”

“Maybe that should tell you something, Max.” She said with a sneer. “What does it say when thats what the person that knows you best has to say about you?”

“It says she’s in denial.”

“You’re delusional!” She snorted derisively and he could feel himself barreling over an edge.

“And you’re a coward.” He shot back and she recoiled like he’d slapped her. Her gaze held his with a steely intensity, heat charging in the space between them.

“Max, you had to bribe me to get me to come here as your date tonight.”

“Oh please, it wasn’t a bribe. It was a bet. Because, once again, I know you.” He said matter-of-factly and she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know that you can’t turn down a challenge. Do you really think that I would have made a bet, getting the person that I have feelings for to sleep with someone else, if I wasn’t confident you were going to spend the entire night looking at me instead?” She swallowed hard, lips parted, painfully aware of the way his eyes flicked down to them. “Okay? And now I’ve said it. Not that I’ve ever been very subtle, but I have feelings for you.” Her breathing faltered. “So maybe it’s time that you grow a pair and admit it too.”

“I’ve got nothing to admit.” It came out childish but she couldn’t help it.

“God, you’re so fucking scared!”

“What exactly do you think that I have to be afraid of?”

“I think that you’re afraid to admit that you’ve got feelings for the most insufferable son of a bitch on the planet,” he spat her words back at her, “because the last big decision you made ended up costing you your family.” She blew out a sharp breath, jaw shifting.

“Oh, fuck you, Friedman.” She shoved him hard against the wall.

“Just admit it.”

“No.” She shoved him again.

“You’re only lying to yourself, princess.”

“I don’t fucking like you, get it through your thick skull.” Another shove and she could feel herself unraveling.

“Aren’t you tired of running?”

“No! Enough!” She pushed him multiple times in a row and he just shook his head.

“Stop being a god damn coward!” He prodded, knowing full well she was hurtling toward an edge.

“I’m not a fucking coward!” She slapped his chest a few times and he finally snatched both wrists in his hands, holding them up in front of her.

“Then prove it."

With an exasperated huff, she surged forward, pushing up onto her toes, and met him in a violent, needy kiss. Their teeth gnashed and he dropped her wrists so he could slide a hand into her hand, the other gripping tight on her face. Her body molded into his, heat flaring through every inch of her. There was no room for thinking; her entire body was too wired, every hair standing on end. She wound her arms around him, palming the broad, muscled planes of his back, digging her fingers into the fabric of his suit jacket. When she ground her hips into him, he let out a throaty groan that made her core clench.

In an instant, he flipped her, pinning her back to the wall, hands flat on either side of her waist, caging her in. He towered over her, catching his breath, eyes locked with hers, hungry and desperate, but waiting for her admission. Her mouth was dry, lips parted, breathless and needy and head floating ten feet above her. She couldn't deny that every part of her wanted him - hell, she was aching for him at this point - but even in her dizzied state, she hated to let him win.

"God, you're unbearable." But her arms were already looped around his neck, pulling him back into her. He rocked into her, one hand coasting down to squeeze her ass and urge her closer. Raking her teeth over his lower lip, she dragged an inhuman noise from him. She could feel his growing insistence pressed against her thigh as his hand made its way up her waist. He kneaded at her chest, thumbing over her pebbled nipple while her tongue explored his mouth.

His hand trailed further up until it settled firmly around her throat, and he pulled back, leaving her panting. Wide eyed and scorching under the heat of his gaze, she let out an involuntary whimper.

“Admit it, Princess.” His voice was a low rasp. “We both know it. So just admit you’ve got feelings for me and I’ll give you what you need.”

“Screw you, Friedman.” But the tilted smile on her face told him she was just trying to push his buttons. He gave a test squeeze to the sides of her throat and her hips bucked toward him.

“What was that, brat?” He snarled, his free hand skating up her inner thigh, toying with the slit of her dress, and her legs parted automatically. His cocky smirk made her want to continue pushing but the pooling between her legs was starting to get hard to ignore. “Tell me, if I were to reach up into those sweet little panties, just how wet and needy is that pussy going to be for me?” The pad of his finger brushed the lacy edge of her panties and she let out a belabored breath.

“Max…” It was a whispered plea, her head tipped back, body poised to ignite at a moment's notice. He paid no mind to the people shuffling out the door behind them, whispering about the pair of them, tangled in each other. If she'd had any chance with the remaining guests, it had slipped away now, along with all rational thought. She tried to rock her hips into his hand, desperate for friction, but he pulled his fingers back.

"Ah, ah, ah." He tutted, giving her thigh a sharp slap. "Stubborn little brat, you don't get to just hump my hand like a desperate slut." She let out a pained whine, warring with her deepest needs and her pride. Nothing he'd said had been wrong - whether she liked it or not - her feelings for him had a life of their own.

He readjusted his grip on her throat, leaning in so close, she could feel his breath fanning over the nape of her neck. His lips brushed the shell of her ear and a chill ran down the length of her spine, culminating in a powerful ache between her thighs. Her head was spinning with need and he'd barely even touched her - an unfair reminder of her lack of control over her body...and her mind.

"I'm just looking for a bit of honesty, Princess." His gravelly whisper only furthered her body's betrayal. "I promise, you'll like the good girl treatment much better. Just admit what we both already know." Trailing his fingernail up and down the soft skin of her inner thigh, he could feel her turning to putty in real time, her body begging to melt into his hand. But when his knuckle brushed over her lace clad core, her entire body shuddered, and the thin string that was her composure finally snapped.

"Fine!" It was shouted but her voice cracked with need, and Max smirked against the skin behind her ear. "You're right, Max, fuck, you're right. I have feelings for you. Jesus, just please." He eased his hand off her throat, tangling it up in her hair as he let their lips collide. Bending his knees, he hitched her up so her legs wrapped around his waist, her dress bunching up.

Peeling her off the wall, he stumbled the few steps away, through the restroom door. His thick arm wrapped firm around her while he locked the door behind them before carrying her to the countertop of the sink. Stepping between her legs, he brushed a hair from her face, his fingers trailing back, winding around her hair, close to the root, and tugging hard so she couldn’t look away.

“Now, was that so hard?” He whispered, his lips a breath away from hers. She rolled her eyes before hooking her heels behind his thighs, urging him to close the distance between them.

"I really can't stand you." But she was all talk and they both knew it. Max gave another sharp tug to her hair and she moaned, eyes fluttering closed. Heat rushed to her face; there was no end to the ways her body would betray her. "Such an egotistical mo-mmf"

Max pushed two thick digits deep into her mouth, silencing her in an instant. Her eyes blew wide as he gagged her with his fingers, his brows drawn and lips pressed into a scowl.

"You just can't keep that bratty mouth shut, can you?" He urged her back, shoulders pressed against the mirror as he loomed over her. "You know, I was going to just let all that attitude go - chalk it up to a bit of denial - but now..." He pressed his tongue into his cheek, shaking his head. "No, now I'm going to have to teach you what happens to mouthy little sluts who don't know when to shut up."

As he slipped his fingers out of her mouth, she closed her lips around them, laving her tongue over them on their way out. His eyes flicked up to meet hers with a dangerous heat, his cock throbbing in his slacks. With a half step back, he gripped around her thighs, yanking her down off the counter and urging her to her knees with a hand on her head. His fingers, gripping the hair at the top of her head, pulled her in, pressing her face against his crotch, his erection evident through his pants.

“Think its time you show me what that mouth is actually good for.” He could feel the vibration of her purr all the way down to his bones, making his cock throb beneath the tight confines of his slacks. Trying not to let the reality of the situation hit him and throw off his game, he fumbled to undo his belt. Holding her in place, he used his free hand to shove his pants down, his thick erection sitting heavy against his stomach. Wetting her lips, she reached up, keeping her eyes locked with his while she wrapped her delicate fingers around his length. She gave a teasing pump but he wasn't looking to play, using his grip on her hair to drag her mouth to him. "Tongue out, doll. Open wide for me."

She did as he said, sticking her tongue out flat. He tapped the head of his cock against it a few times, gauging her reaction. He wanted to savor the moment but seeing her on her knees, ready and waiting for him after all this time, was heady and gnawing at his ability to be patient. Sliding past her lips, he hissed as he rocked his hips up. He gave a few shallow thrusts first, his hand tight on her hair to keep her where he wanted her, then roughly surged forward so his crown brushed the back of her throat and his eyes rolled back. Easing back out, he gave her a moment to breathe but she just smirked.

"Gonna blow your load already?" She said, and he scoffed. "Should have known you wouldn't be able to handle me."

Max ground his teeth, tongue sliding behind his top lip as he crouched down closer to her level. He grabbed her cheeks forcefully between his fingers, urging her mouth open and spitting into it before giving a warning smack that left her cheek buzzing. She let out a shaky breath, eyes pinned on him as a delicious smile crept across her face.

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into." He slowly straightened up to his full height, never loosening his fingers in her hair. "Hands behind your back, mouth open." The pulse between her legs was starting to overpower her brain and she couldn't help but do as he said. His voice, demanding and gravelly, was a kryptonite she didn't know she had. "Lets see if I can't fuck the brat right out of you."

Without any further warning, he thrusted completely into her mouth, making her gag. Holding her head flush against him, her nose pressed into his skin, he watched as her nostrils flared, trying to breathe through him. He waited until she began to squirm before pulling her off, strings of saliva connecting them as she gasped for air.

"What, can't handle me?" He taunted, echoing her words, before thrusting back into her mouth and quickly pulling off. "All fucking talk?" Back in and out. "Pretty little whore can't even take a little throat fucking?" He held her head steady as he fucked her mouth, gagging her each time until her eyes started to water. "Nothing else to say now, huh?" Tears streamed down her face as he kept an unrelenting pace. His taunts turned to groans, his brain unable to keep up as he moved faster. Drool dripped down her chin and he thrusted particularly hard, pushing past her gag reflex.

Feeling himself getting close, he pulled her off him and used his grip on her hair to yank her to her feet. Letting her steady herself for a moment, he wiped his thumb through the spit pooled on her face, rubbing it across her lips. He smoothed his hand over the hair he had severely rumpled. His touch drifted down her face and gingerly grazed over her neck as he stepped into her space, urging her against the edge of the countertop. Her heart hammered in her chest as she pressed her legs together to ease the waves of need she'd been ignoring. Reaching up, she tugged at the knot of his tie, loosening it before nimbly working her way down the buttons of his shirt. He watched her while his hands migrated to her hips, squeezing, hoping to mitigate the way the fire beneath his skin was threatening to take him over.

Shrugging off his suit jacket, he slung it over the dividing wall of the nearest stall. Her fingers trailed over the firm lines of his chest, electricity sparking with every inch. She held his gaze, intense on her, reflecting a need that reached well past lust and struck her hard in the chest. He leaned in close and met her in deep kiss that was meant to tell her the things he wasn't saying aloud, pressing her flat against him. But as quickly as he had moved in, he tore away, using his grip on her hips to flip her around to face the counter.

She met his eyes in the mirror, the meaningful look on his face replaced by a look that was all fire. He rolled his hips against her ass, one hand snaking around her, up her stomach. She shuddered when his lips connected with her neck as he placed open mouthed kisses at the nape. Her body moved on its own, working back against him, his fingers curling around the neckline of her dress, ripping it down over her chest. Roughly squeezing her breasts, he sucked at the thin skin of her neck and she let out a breathy moan that made his cock twitch against her ass. His fingers tweaked her nipples as he gathered the fabric of her dress, pushing it up over her hips. Kicking her legs apart, he nipped the shell of her ear, holding her gaze in the mirror.

"If you're going to tap, Princess, now's the time." A final chance to back out before they crossed a line there was no coming back from - as if he hadn't already flung himself a full football field over the line. If she walked away now, he was fairly sure he would never recover.

She tore her gaze away, wrapping an arm back around his neck and turned her head. Pressing up on her toes, she pulled him into a uncharacteristically sentimental kiss that eased the fears he was trying so hard to ignore. When she pulled back from it, her softened eyes reverted to the feisty, bratty eyes he was becoming accustomed to.

"Like I'd ever tap to someone like you." She'd fired the starting shot and Max didn't hesitate.

His hand pushed on her back, pressing her face down onto the cool stone countertop, he used his free hand to rip her panties down. He squeezed the thick flesh of her ass before letting his palm strike, the noise reverberating off the tiles of the restroom. She squeaked, lurching forward against the counter and he soothed a hand over the welt instantly rising to her skin.

"That right?" He thumbed over the slick of her folds, chuckling as she fluttered. "So wet and desperate for my cock." His hand collided with her again and she yelped. "Not that you deserve it." She tried to grind back against his hand and he tutted. "Lucky for you, i'm a very generous guy." Gripping her hips with both hands, he rocked into her, his cock dragging through her soaked pussy, teasing. "All you have to do is tell me who this pussy belongs to."

"God..." She groaned, pushing into him but he pinned her hips against the counter.

"No, but close. Try again."

Picking her head up, she looked into the mirror, her makeup running down her face from her tears and spit, her hair messed beyond saving, and Max standing behind her looking smug as ever - he'd wrecked her and he hadn't even fucked her yet. Not that she'd ever have the self control or pride to walk away now...or even later. She'd let the door crack open for him and there was no turning back now, he owned her and she'd have done anything in that moment to feel him stretching her open.

"You, Max. You own this pussy. You own every god damned inch of me - now please, for the love of god, just - " But her plea was cut short with a relieved cry that echoed around them when he pulled her back onto his cock, making her take every inch.

He groaned nearly as loud as she did, pushing her face down so she wouldn't see how unraveled he'd instantly become when he felt her walls squeezing him. If he owned her, she certainly owned him right back. His fingers dug into her hips hard enough to leave bruises as he savored the feeling of finally being inside her.

Sucking in a breath through grated teeth, he pulled back before rutting back in just as deep. She gripped the edges of the counter hard as he began to work up a rhythm, his cock splitting her open, thick and hard as steel. He worked faster, grunting and tugging her hair so she would look up into the mirror.

The sound of their bodies colliding echoed through the bathroom and he wrapped the length of her hair around his fist, yanking it back so her back arched high. Thrusting up into her, he wrapped a muscular arm around her stomach, urging her upright so her back was flush against his chest. He watched their reflections in the mirror as he groped her breasts, pinching hard at her nipples, intent on the way her eyes rolled back.

"Open your eyes. I want you to watch while I fuck this perfect pussy - while I give you exactly what you wanted." His voice was deep and strained as she squeezed around his cock.

"Fuck, Max, don't stop, please! Fuck!"

He hammered in and out, the sound of her moaning his name driving him to move faster. Her brain was frazzled and completely melted when his fingers drifted down to circle over her clit. Her mouth hung open with shallow pants, her walls constricting, and she tipped her head back onto his shoulder as pressure grew out of control in her belly. Max released his grip on her hair, moving his hand down to squeeze the sides of her throat. He urged her head back to the mirror, his hips stuttering.

"I want you to watch how fucking sexy you are coming apart on my cock, Princess." He shifted his angle so his tip brushed exactly right with each thrust and her body began to shake. Moving in tight, quick circles over her clit, he kept his eyes locked with hers in the mirror, her mouth hung open in a drawn out series of cries. Her head swam and crashed into her as she toppled over the edge.

“Shit! Max!” She clung hard to his arms, nails digging into his skin. Her walls fluttered around his length and he didn’t slow down. He drove harder and harder into her, hooking her knee and urging it up onto the counter to get as deep as he could, bottoming out.

Drawing her arms behind her back, he looped his arm through hers. Pistoning into her, he grunted with each thrust, his orgasm coming faster than he wanted.

“God, look at those fucking tits bouncing for me. You’re unreal.” He growled, spearing up into her. Her whines echoed off the walls, desperate and broken as Max brought her back to the edge. “That’s it, baby, let everybody hear what I do to you.”

His hips stuttered and he bit down on the nape of her neck. With a few wild thrusts, her legs buckled, body melting into his grasp as she screamed out his name. She pulsed around him and he roared out, spilling into her, slamming a hand on the wall to steady them.

He rocked into her a few final times, releasing her arms so he could wrap both of his firmly around her. Peppering kisses over her neck and shoulder, he eased her leg back to the ground. He squeezed tight around her as he pulled out, burying his face in her hair. She turned in his arms, resting her hands on his chest and slowly letting her eyes pan up to meet his. Her mouth opened then closed, struggling to know what to say now.

“Well shit, doll. That’s one hell of a way to win a bet.” He cupped her cheek, stroking a thumb over her. She blinked back at him, waiting for her brain to process the words coming out of his mouth.

“But…I…”

“Got laid at the wedding.” He finished her sentence and she shut her mouth, brows drawn. “Guess that means we’re staying put.” She wet her lips before a slow smile finally rose to her face. Her arm looped around his neck, dragging him in for a breathless kiss. He yanked her closer with his hands on her hips.

He finally pulled back, taking a half step away, and tugged her dress back up into place. Smoothing down her hair, he gave her one final brief kiss.

“So…since you apparently know better than me…tell me, where do we go from here?” She gave him a crooked smile and he pursed his lips, pretending to think hard.

“We…go back to your house.” The corner of his lip quirked up and she rolled her eyes. “I’m dying to find out what it takes to make my girl tap out.”

“Your girl, huh?” Her lips curled up, raising a brow. Max used a hand on the small of her back to yank her in.

“Yeah. My girl.” He confirmed, ego fully in place. “Got an issue with that, brat?” She wet her lips before tugging at her lower lip with her teeth.

“You’re not gonna be able to get me to tap.” She prodded and he cocked his head with a grin.

“You wanna bet?”

Breaking free from his grasp, she entwined her fingers with his, pulling him after her. He scrambled to grab his jacket and sling it over his shoulder.

“If you win, I’m all yours.”

[darkorderaf]

Could I request “you are, without a doubt, the most annoying person i’ve ever crossed paths with. and don’t even get me started on the sound of your voice” For MJF? Maybe the reader is trying to comfort him after his promo last night bc she likes him?

Of course! Here’s some angsty and angry but a little soft MJF. I hope it’s alright that I combined it with another prompt! Please enjoy and sorry for the wait. <3

Pairing: MJF x OFC. Prompts: “You are, without a doubt, the most annoying person I’ve ever crossed paths with. And don’t even get me started on the sound of your voice”. + Hiding their face in the other’s neck. Rating: T. Warnings/Content: Minor angst/fluff. Word Count: 737.

Tag List (asked to be added/removed!): @alyhull @boutmachines @chrisdickinson @lghockey @rubyred1980 @sillynilly27 @simoneinside

(I don’t own gif; all credit to codymania!)

Anyone backstage could hear a pin drop with how silent it was. It took everything in her to not whittle her fingernails down to stubs as she watched one of the monitors. Watched the way that MJF’s face held that pinched, pained look for longer than anyone anticipated as he stalked back up the ramp. Away from his childhood hero, cheeks wet.

Everyone gave him a wide berth and she watched as no one made an attempt to talk to him. They eyed him as he went by, speaking behind their hands in low whispers. It was a vulnerable thing that he did and no one knew Maxwell Jacob Friedman to be vulnerable of all things. Prickly, venomous, sometimes even monstrous.

But she got him to laugh, smile even, in a way that didn’t bite once or twice. More times than he would ever admit. And that was the thought she held onto as she took in a breath and followed after him. She opened the door to one of the stairwells and She could hear his ragged, rattled breaths. Like he was trying to control it but it was too much. He sat on the second step, dark sleeves rolled up and his head slightly bowed.

“Maxwell?”

He didn’t look up at her and loosely wound his hands together. Cleared his throat to try to steady his breath but it didn’t work. She paused in the stairwell doorway, considered him for a moment, then stepped forward. He tched under his breath.

“Max? Are you okay?”

He scoffed and he slowly raised his head to look at her. His narrowed eyes fixed on her and his tongue pressed hard against the inside of his cheek.

“Are you okay? Are you serious?”

His voice dripped with that familiar malice and she blinked at him, measured and controlled as she waited him out. He stood up and halfheartedly sneered at her.

“It’s always you, huh? Fucking 'course it is. God, you're...”

His voice was strained, trying to get back that level tone of his but it was clear he was struggling. Max was only inches away from her and he ducked his head to meet her eyes.

“You…You are, without a doubt, the most annoying person I’ve ever crossed paths with,” he said. He worked his jaw and whether he knew it or not, the anger in his voice became tired the longer he talked. “And don’t even get me started on the sound of your voice. Always asking if I’m okay or how I’m fucking feeling. You wanna know if I’m okay? You wanna know how I’m feeling?”

He was almost nose to nose, chest to chest, with her and she felt every heavy, unsteady breath of his as he nearly crowded her back against the wall. One hand against it, just above her head as he looked at her. Max waited. Watched her intently with red-rimmed eyes, soft with tears. Then he couldn’t help but sniffle softly, another drop down his cheek, and she gently smiled at him.

“I do,” she said to him. Smoothed his slightly rumpled shirt with her hand and he let her. Felt him slightly brace under her touch. “So, Max, are you? Okay?”

Max stared at her, the hard edge of his jaw slightly softening and then the sharp stone of him collapsed against her. His head fell to the curve of her shoulder and his hand dropped, made a path down her arm. Fingertips brushed against hers but didn’t stay long and he pressed closer to her. His nose nudged against her skin as he turned into her and his breaths kissed along her neck, featherlight. Carefully, she settled a hand on the back of his head. Gently massaged the skin with slow circles.

“This doesn’t…” he murmured against her neck, a low vibration that made her hum. Quiet tears wet her skin but she didn’t mind it as he all but rested his entire body against hers. Sought out something he didn’t often look for or find. “I still think you’re annoying.”

She huffed a quiet laugh through her nose and she felt the curve of his smile against her neck. Their quiet and unspoken yet strange softness between each other settled unsteady waters. He breathed easier against her and she shut her eyes, welcomed him and told him without words that it was alright.

“Of course you do, Max.”

[lancearcherinrippedjeans]

Masterlist

(Updated as of January 2022)

All the fics written by yours truly, some of these are old and bad, but some are newer and improved! <3

Rules of Requesting

Emoji Anon List

A - Angst

F - Fluff

S - Smut

S  - Implied Smut

Eternity

Veronica, Sawyer and Nova were just a couple friends with a dream to make it big. When Tony Khan sees them in person, will their dream come true or will it all come crashing down?

Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Eternity One-Shots

- If You Seek Amy (Kenny Omega x Veronica Rodriguez)

Kenny drags Veronica away from the bar and her friends, where did he take her? What happens at said place? (Read after chapter 2)

- The First Date (Ricky Starks x Nova Jay)

It's finally the day that Ricky has been waiting for, and the night that Nova didn't want to end.

A Day at a Time

Kelani Williams and Jasmine Scott. Polar opposites, but best friends. Jasmine faces struggles in her relationship, while Kelani struggles being in a relationship at all. But they’ll figure it out, a day at a time.

Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2

One-Shots

“Hangman” Adam Page

Let’s Play Hangman F/S

Adam Page x OFC/Reader

You and your roommate play hangman, but with a twist.

Brendan Vink/Duke Hudson

The Tale of Two Aussies...and a Ride Along...and a Love Triangle A/F

Shane Thorne x Reader/Brendan Vink x Reader

A ride along with Shane Thorne and Brendan Vink, but something seems...off.

Leads to old blog, but it’s one of my favorites, and it’s one of my best works

Cash Wheeler/Dash Wilder

Moving On A/FCash Wheeler x Reader/Kenny Omega x Reader

Y/N gets cheated on, so she tries to move on

Finn Balor

A Little Help F

heel!Finn Balor x Reader

Finn helps you in a match

Kenny Omega

Sick Day F/C

Kenny Omega x Reader

You take care of Kenny while he’s sick, but when you get sick, it’s the other way around.

Moving On A/F

Cash Wheeler x Reader/ Kenny Omega x Reader

Y/N gets cheated on, so she tries to move on

Maxwell Jacob Friedman

The Real You A/F

MJF x Reader

The MJF character starts to get to Maxwell’s head. He doesn’t realize he’s slowly losing the love of his life

Shane Thorne

The Tale of Two Aussies...and a Ride Along...and a Love Triangle A/F

Shane Thorne x Reader/Brendan Vink x Reader

A ride along with Shane Thorne and Brendan Vink, but something seems...off.

Leads to old blog, but it’s one of my favorites, and it’s one of my best works

Wardlow

Kiss the Ring? Or the Bodyguard? F/C

Wardlow x Reader

You’re at ringside with Orange Cassidy against MJF. But to cause a distraction, you do the first thing that comes to mind.

Dating the Bodyguard? F/C

Wardlow x Reader

The tables turn, Wardlow distracts you in a match. The whole night he tries to ask you something but there’s always an interruption.

✞ 𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢 ✞

ICBeing The Elite

ICBeing The Elite Masterlist

[doedreamss]

howdy miss co-vice mayor ma'am.... i'm here to humbly request.... mayhaps some mjf fic 👀👀👀 i was thinking. and i don't want to write this myself bc i know it'll never be good enough but i love your writing more than i love anything else. but just. Hate Fucking ? with mjf? bc let's be real. that'd be.... PHEW chile. that'd be good. ofc u don't have to!!! feel free to delete this if u want i swear i won't be mad!!!

my dearest and most wonderful dirt, i do hope this shows you how much i truly love you and how serious i was when i told you i did.  also this isn’t exactly hate fucking like I think you had in mind, so hopefully you still like it?  

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * *

SAY THANK YOU

Ship: MJF x Nameless Female OC

Summary: MJF catches a nameless female character backstage after a show and forces her to cave to the fact that she’s sexually attracted to him, even though she hates how egotistically cocky he is.

Rating: Explicit (very descriptive smut)

!!! WARNINGS !!! : Name-calling degradation, pressured to have sex, public sex, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, slapping, facial (the naughty kind)

Length: 2,647 words

“Whythe fuck would I ever want to sleep with you?” She arched a perfectly shaped brow and let her eyes fall down thethick-figured man standing in front of her.  

He stood in front of her withhis wide palms framing his hips, head tilted, and arrogant expression carved sonaturally across his face it seemed it was always meant to wearit. He was smiling, and it was that same smile he always had,faintly touched with boyish arrogance worn on a man large enough to winthe fight when push came to shove.

And there’d been one time,when no one had been in the room but him that she’d stopped in the doorwayand watched his broad, bare back to her.  He’d been holding his phone, mutteringsomething under his breath, voice softer than the hard edge he often worethat dripped with haughtiness.  She’d blinked and stilled, watchinghim, unsure why it felt like she’d stumbled on something private.  Heathad risen gently into her cheeks, but he was still wearing his pants,between dressing into his trunks from his suit.  The carve ofhis muscles beneath his skin, the width of his arms, were enough tomake her mouth dry.  Her weight shifted, pressing the fat of herthighs together as the muscles between her legs clenched with want.

She remembered that the soleof her boots had made a gentle scraping noise.  He’d turned and she’dscurried, ducking behind the half-closed door so he wouldn’t haveseen she was watching him.  He’d blinked at the empty space where she’d beenbut seemed to have decided he must’ve heard something and glanced back at hisphone again.  Her heart had been pounding in her chest, pulsejumping in her throat.  She’d managed not to get caught watching him.

Now, hanging out backstageafter a show, he’d approached her, cornered her in a hallway and asked herwhen she was finally going to get the courage to admit she wanted to spenda night with the salt of the earth.

He laughed as though they hadan audience, but it was just the two of them and the empty equipment caseswaiting for the show props to be broken down and packed back away.   

“Baby, honey, please.”  One of those hands left his hipto touch her shoulder.  A breath through his nose that was more like alaugh.  He squeezed, just teasing how tight his grip could be, and thenreleased.  His fingers gently stroked across her skin and she had toclench her teeth to keep from reacting.  She didn’t want to give himthe satisfaction.

“I’m Maxwell Jacob Friedman,” hesaid, as if he were naming a king.  His other hand lifted toher other shoulder and he held her and pulled her body in a little closer. “And you’re a fucking skank who’s dying to get on the maximum ride.”

“Shut the fuck up!” She snapped, reaching to smack at his thickforearm with the intent to push her away from him.

His fingers tightened theirhold instead so she wouldn’t break it.  Her heart pounded alittle harder.  There was a hard sort of edge against his thinlips as he smiled, jutting his chin upward and staring down his broad noseat her.  He looked at her like he knew for absolute fact any denialof her attraction of him was a lie.  For a minute it made her questionherself, wondering if she’d ever drunkenly confessed to someone thatsometimes, when she watched MJF backstage, her eyes lingered just a littlelonger than normal.

No, she’d never toldanyone.  He was too much of a dick.  She had enoughself-worth to keep herself from ever going down that road.  MJF was themost disrespectful person she’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. 

“Let go of me rightnow.”  She kept her voice level and forced herself to meet his eyes,pulling on her hatred for the corner he was backing her into rather thanhow her body reacted to him.  She wanted to sound serious.

“Or what?”  Heasked and pinched his brows together, so prominent worry lines creased hisforehead and those sad eyes looked even more so. His lips pursedmockingly in a pout. He leaned in, the tips of their noses gently brushing. His next words were a hot whisper on her lips, to which his eyes hadfallen to, watching them instead of her.  “Why don’t you do what your bodyis beggingyou to do, be a good girl, and get yourself that kiss you’ve beendaydreamingabout for so long?”

She hated him more than she’dhated anyone else in her entire fucking life.

With one quick motion sheshoved his hand off her shoulder, leaned back and smacked the flat of herpalm as hard as she could against his stubbled cheek.  The smackresounded around them, bouncing off the cement walls of the hallway. Her hand stung.  There was a red mark on his skin.

His eyes flashed dangerouslyback to her.  They were dark.  He reached up to gently touch whereshe’d slapped him.

The seconds that passedbetween them felt like they drug on for hours.

She threw her body at his,knowing she’d only knock into him, but not knock them over.  Herarms came around his neck and she pushed herself on the tips of her toes,rubbing her body up his and smearing her lips against his.  He pressedback immediately hard, no pause of shock or surprise, and drove her intothe wall with enough force to knock the air out of her lungs.  Hedidn’t letup, mouth still holding her lips and tongue pressing and wrapping around hers.

He pulled her arms away fromhis shoulders and down between their bodies. With one hand he could hold herwrists, and he pinned them, squeezing just tight enough to make them ache. She jerked them upward, trying to free them from his hold, but heonly held tighter.  She pulled her mouth off his and the back of herhead pressed on the hard cement wall he’d flattened her on.

“I fucking hate you,Maxwell.”  Every breath off her tongue tasted like him.  “You’re sucha piece of shit.”

“How wet are you rightnow?” He whispered back with a breathy laugh.

“You’re disgusting!”

The hand not trapping herwrists reached, fingers greedily pushing at the fat between her thighs. Sheopened her legs for him, and he grinned.  Her stomach rolled and thentightened.  He reached up beneath her skirt, slipped under theelastic of her panties and between her lips with precision.

“Judging by how drenched youare, I’d say you don’t find me disgusting at all,” he whispered, thumbcircling her clit and inspiring a rush of electricity down between herlegs.  “How much do you moan my name at night when you’re lonely in bed,fucking yourself and wishing it was me?”

“Shut the fuck-” she groundout through clenched teeth and he flicked his thumb hard back and forthover her clit, making her moan and her thighs shake before she could stopherself “-Up!”

He pressed his lips againsther jaw, down her neck.  His teeth pinched her skin hard.  Two of histhick fingers sank up inside her, and his thumb kept teasing thatsensitive little button.  She moaned to feel the way his fingers pressed andstretched at her insides, mimicking how his cock would fill her.  Shamewashed hot over her body.  They were out in the open, backstage at a show. Someone was bound to come by any minute and find MJF pinning heragainst a wall, fingering her into delirium.

Before she could cum, hisfingers slipped back out and he stopped touching her clit.  He left heraching and needy.  Holding his fingers up beside their faces, he pulledthe two apart that’d so rudely filled her.  Her wet was sticky and bridgedbetween them.  He smiled when their eyes moved from it, to eachother’s gazes.

“Go on,” he beckoned,mockingly sweet, “tell me what you want.”

She clenched her jaw,squirming under that all-too-knowing look.

“Tell me,” he said, with alittle more force in his voice, pulling her wrists down a little andgiving them a squeeze.

“Fuck me.”

The triumph of his grinturned her on and made her hate him even more.  He released herwrists and tugged up her skirt.

“Not here!” She hissed, eyes widening in a panic as she glanced down either endof the hallway.

But his thighs were pressinghers into the wall and he’d bunched her skirt up between their hips,pinning it there with their bodies.  Both his hands were undoing thebutton on his slacks and reaching beneath the elastic of his underwear topull his thick, hard, leaking cock free.

“Maxwell, anyone can see us!”

His knee smacked hers,impatiently moving her legs apart.  Though her words said shewas going to deny him, her legs spread wider with the haste he demanded. She wasn’t pushing him away – her hands had gone to his bare biceps,holding the thick, firm muscle underneath.  He drove his hips up, and hisgirthy cock spread between her wet lips, the fat head flicking herswollen, already layed with clit.  She bit back her moan,trying not to let the sound spread down the halls.  He dippedhis hips and drove them up again, this time pushing himself up inside her,and not stopping until she couldn’t take any more.

“No,” she tried to say, butshe moaned and whined when he pulled out and shoved up again, shifting thefat of her ass against the cement wall.  “You’re a fucking – nngghh – dick, Maxwell.” Her fingers dug into his arms.  “I hate you.”

“Oh yeah?”  Heasked in a hot breath against her ear.  “Seems to me – aughh mmmff – you can’t deny howbadly you want me.”

He leaned so his hand couldsqueeze between their bodies, thumb beginning to flick her clit as hiscock pumped raw in and out of her pussy.  

“You’re going to cum, aren’tyou, you stupid slut?” He asked, mocking the pleasure he was inspiring andrubbing her clit a little harder, syncing the shove of his cock up insideher with it.

“Fuck you,” she spat.

Maxwell took his fingers fromher clit and gave it a hard, quick slap.  She half screamed, halfgroaned behind clenched teeth, tingles shooting down between herlegs.  Another slap.  Her eyes rolled.  He startedflicking her raised, surely red clit again, and shoved his cock hard up insideher.

Despite wanting to hold offso she could laugh at him and call him a failure for not making her cum,she couldn’t deny the precision with which he touched her, or how good hiscock felt spreading her muscles around it.  She hated it.  Shehated him.  She hated knowing from now on, every time he caught herlooking at him, they’d have this memory to play back in their head. The day her body betrayed her while he fucked her up against thewall backstage, like some pathetic slut.  She hated every time she walkeda spot backstage like this one was, she’d remember when she let MJF push her upand fuck her against the wall.

Her breathing was coming inneedier, sharper gasps.  Her moans were spilling one into the other. She was shaking.

“Cum,” he demanded, and her thighs wanted to clap together, butcouldn’t, spread around him as they were.  They squeezed either side ofhis hip instead.  She jerked forward, forehead pressed against hisbare chest, and came.  The muscles of her cunt squeezed and pulled athis raw cock shoved up inside her.   Her lips were stuck wide open and shemoaned long and low, quivering and twitching around him.

He chuckled and gingerlypushed her back by her shoulder to flatten her against the wall again. His fingers caught her chin and he brought her eyes to his. They were dizzy with satisfaction, a fog of pleasure laid over them.  Hishand was still between her legs, but he spared her sensitive, twitchingparts from his touch.  She blinked, trying to clear her vision and refocuson the face of the man who’d forced her to orgasm on his cock.

“Say thank you,” he demanded,arching that brow again.

“What?” She blinked.  

“Say thank you.”  Hesighed as if he were disappointed that he needed to repeat himself.

“Fuck you,” she said, thoughher voice was weak.

The hand that’d been betweenher legs reached up and slapped her across the face.  Lightly. More lightly than when she’d smacked him, though still firm enough tosting.  To shock.  Some of her wet cum that’d been on hisfingers as he played with her stuck against her cheek.

“Try again.”  He said,voice dangerously low, and shifted his hips to push more of his cockinside her.  She whined, uncomfortably tight and forced to take more ofhim than her cunt had room for.

The hand that’d slapped herrested around her neck.  He tilted his head and arched a brow and histhumb stroked down her skin.

“Thank you.” Her voice was small.  Shame curled in her gut.

Maxwell’s mouth spread into asmile and he took his hand off her throat and pulled his still hard,throbbing cock from her cunt.

“On your knees,” he demanded,and placed a palm on her shoulder, shoving her down whether she wanted togo or not.  His fingers wrapped around his cock, which was stillimpressive, even held by a hand as large as his.  It was wet with her cum,and his hand slid up and down, pumping in a mimic of the way he’d beenfucking her a minute ago.  He was trying to hurry, to cum fast incase someone came down the hallway. He groaned and grunted above her.

His other hand shot to theback of her head, fingers curling tight in her hair and holding her still,right under the head of his leaking cock.  The back of her skull throbbedwith how hard he held her there.  It wasn’t necessary, but just a flex ofhis power.  He could have her however and wherever he wanted.

“MMmngggfuuuck,” hemoaned, and the muscles of his thighs seemed carved of stone right before heerupted in ribbon after ribbon of hot cum, cloaking her face without care. His ass squeezed as he emptied his balls on her, then dropped themeat of his cock against her skin and smeared it a little bitmore over her face.  Satisfied, panting, he stepped back, pulled hisfingers from her hair and gently pushed her face away before quickly shovinghis messy cock back into his underwear andzipping his pants up.

She pressed her palm on thewall, trying to get herself up, blinking through cum stuck on her lashesand smeared into her hair.

“I think this is theprettiest I’ve ever seen you,” he said, though his voice was a little bitmore winded, and he couldn’t catch his breath enough to laugh.

“You’re such a fucking dick,”she spat, wiping his cum from her eyes and looking around for something toclean up with before someone sawher.

“Let’s do this again soonsweetheart,” he replied, and reached to slap her ass as she turned, havingseen a towel laying nearby and wanting to grab it.  She jumped at thesting of contact and spun around to smack him, but he was already walkingaway, only throwing a quick wink and another grin at her before he turneda corner and disappeared.

[majesticwren]

fallingforyou (MJF x OFC)

following this post this concept is now a fic, sorry not sorry. I'm struggling trust me. (help me)

Trigger Warning/s: slow burn (?) but is it, childhood friends to lovers, depiction of toxic relationships, intimacy and commitment problems, childhood traumas, jealousy, possessiveness, physical and verbal abuse (in the third scene things gets a bit heavy), bullying, hints of anti-semitism, everyone is a walking red flag, angst, fluff, smut.

Masterlist Playlist

Part I | Part II | Part IV

Chapter 3.

Six Years Ago.

“Time’s up, kitten,”

Stella chose to ignore him.

She stayed perfectly still, curled up under his arm, pressed by his side. Her arms wrapped around his waist; face nuzzled in his chest. They both knew better and still, they both didn’t let go. Even when he was the one who tried reminding her they had responsibilities waiting for them, he was easily tempted to forget the world.

Max pressed a soft kiss on her forehead before leaning his chin on her head, squeezing her even tighter.

“I don’t want to go,” she started, feeling tears gathering again and pressing behind her eyes.

“I know.” He lulled, cradling her slowly. “Me either.”

Stella didn’t hint to move even an inch.

She had graduated from college just before the Summer. And now, she was about to hop on a plane to California. Stella had been admitted to Stanford, enrolling in their four years of law course. And she perfectly knew that was her path. Her future wouldn’t have had any better chances than that. Stanford law was the endgame.

But she also knew everything would have been different now.

It was selfish. Maybe even stupid. But thinking of being on the other side of the country, at times even the other side of the world, compared to Max, made her chest ache.

She knew it wasn’t a goodbye. But it sure felt like one.

“Promise me,” she sniffled, looking up at him, not even trying to hide her tears, “You promise me we won’t lose touch, okay?”

“Oh, baby,” seeing he was just as moved as she was made her crumble.

“Promise me, Friedman.” She needed to hear it. “We’ll keep in touch every day. And we’ll visit each other no matter what.”

Max cupped his big hands around her face and made sure she looked straight into his dark eyes. “You know I will.”

She sighed, releasing some of her sadness and finding solace in that closeness. Stella wrapped her hands around his wrists, trying to hold onto him, and pressed her cheek into his surprisingly soft, warm palm.

“I can’t be without you. So, don’t think that California is far enough, fuck, anywhere wouldn’t be far enough.” He continued.

Stella melted into a smile.

It was so easy for her to just dive and drown in his gaze. There was a type of warmth and affection he didn’t allow anyone else to receive. It was only hers, and it was intoxicating. Max was like the worst drug to her. She had accepted to be only friends, forever starved of her desires, forever blind to her real feelings, only to keep receiving her dose.

“Right, I should probably go.” She sighed sadly.

“Yeah, you should.”

And yet, she didn’t hint at moving away from him. If possible, she moved closer.

Stella left her hold on his wrists only to raise her hands to his neck. The brush of her fingertips on his skin was soft, it was as if she was pulling him into a hug, although her move was way greedier than that. Something that would have granted her high now, and that would have revealed itself to be tragically toxic later. She knew it. Stella was well aware. And chose to pretend there was nothing abnormal in their behaviour.

Max didn’t oppose her. He was selfish too. The most selfish of them all, in truth. But Stella would have never held that against him. He knew exactly what she was looking for and was ready to deliver the only way he knew how.

He propped her face up, pressing a thumb under her chin and met her lips in a soft kiss.

Everything had disappeared around them. It was easy for her to forget she was standing by the gate of her flight and the queue to embark was running out. The attendants had been called to boarding already twice. And yet, that was all so unimportant now.

Their kiss was only a brush of the lips. Nothing more. Nothing less. Stella was naïve enough to think that until there was no tongue, then she could pretend them kissing on the lips was a normal occurrence between friends.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened. Max and she had kissed before, just like that. Softly and quietly, they collectively had decided to keep pretending it didn’t also mean their hearts were touching.

It started off like a joke, in a bar. Their friends had challenged them to prove they were only friends and kiss. They were all drunk and better decisions could have been made, that night, but better judgment had escaped them. So, they kissed. And then Stella had to pretend in front of everyone that it felt like kissing her brother.

It didn’t take long before Max and her found each other alone and decided to try again. It wasn’t like kissing her brother. Not in the slightest. That second time, she had to fight against herself not to let her dormant desire awake. And she knew Max was of the same idea. If he had thought it to be as disgusting as kissing his sister, then why keep kissing her?

It became a habit of theirs. Not for the day-to-day, but some occasions may require a kiss on the lips every now and then. But it always stayed vanilla between them. She had never pushed herself any further than holding onto him, maybe daring to push just her fingertips through his curly hair, but never more than that. And Max had never hinted to wishing to go any further than that either.

So, that was it. A kiss. Honest and mostly sad.

Stella pulled back, releasing a soft sigh, but Max didn’t let her go, not yet. He kept her close and pressed his forehead on hers.

“I love you,” he whispered softly.

She let his words sink in, doing her best to not let him rip her apart. And failing. “I love you too.” Oh, if only he had known. “Goodbye, Maxwell.”

Present Day.

Driving back to Manhattan was taking the best part of an hour, but Stella didn’t mind it at all. Being stuck in a sea of traffic and lights, with the Big Apple's beautiful skyline on the horizon wasn’t at all bad. Part of her was almost dreaming of getting stuck in a traffic jam only to be home late and have an excuse to cancel her plans with Greg.

She could have lied and cancelled her plans regardless, but where was the fun in that? Where was her integrity? There were still things they needed to resolve, like his hectic behaviour of that afternoon and how she expected an apology for all the words he had said and the names he had called her.

But also, there was a dark side of her, that just craved the chaos and the pain.

It was something Stella didn’t like to face all that often. It liked her to find herself in miserable situations. There was a broken side of her that had found a way to cope with the way things always went in her life. If her anger and hate could be directed to a specific, tangible cause, she had no reason to focus on the real reasons why she was so unhappy, unfulfilled and always disappointed.

It was a coping mechanism like any other. A version of self-destruction.

And now the thing she had chosen to hate and the miserable situation she had decided to bask in was Greg. He gave her all the ammo she needed to fire at her disheartened without her having to face reality.

“That poor man. Stella, you are driving him insane.” Anissa chuckled from the other side of the line.

After what she had to go through that afternoon and knowing what was expected of her that evening, Stella needed nothing more but a good chat with her best friend. Anissa and she had met at Stanford some years ago and had been friends ever since. They didn’t always see eye to eye on many things, and yet, they had never argued for longer than a couple of days.

“Me!? Don’t blame me! He’s the one acting crazy! He knew I was with my sister this afternoon and still proceeded to send me hundreds of angry messages!”

“Sorry, I phrased that wrong. He is totally abusive and you should drop him.”

“Thank you very much. I don’t even know if I want to see him tonight.”

“And the fact that you must watch Max on tv, and Greg loses his shit when that happens has nothing to do with this last statement, yes?”

“Nothing at all.”

Anissa giggled. “I do not get why you keep dating him. You don’t even like him and you two definitely aren’t a match. He’s too… What’s the word?”

“Stiff? Grey? Bland?”

“Precisely! Plus, he’s a psycho.”

“Yeah,” Stella sighed, knowing she was right. The best decision for herself was to break up with Greg. Especially since she didn’t feel anything for the guy.

“Then why? Does he fuck you so well that is impossible to let him go!?”

“God, no.” Stella let go without even thinking about the truth of her words. More than that, her defeated tone meant it all.

They had sex only once. Recently. She had thought that maybe her emotions would have defrosted if she had let passion creep through. But she should have known better. She should have listened to her body. And yet, she didn’t and ended up feeling stone cold, looking at the ceiling over his shoulder, just waiting for him to finish. She didn’t even try to make it pleasant for him. She didn’t waste any energy faking. She wanted Greg to know she wasn’t with him at that moment.

She had decided that the lack of desire and pleasure she felt was his fault and wanted to hurt him.

God, only thinking about it made her shrink. She had been cruel and she was aware.

That too was something Stella hadn’t told anyone, not even Max. Too ashamed to reveal her true colours.

“Poor girl, I think you need some good dick. That would solve many of your current problems,”

“Anissa!”

“What? It’s true! When was the last time you got fucked good?”

The fact that Stella had to think about it confirmed Anissa's words.

“We are no charity cases, girl. We are empowered, strong women. You need to get with a guy that knows how to fuck you properly.”

Stella blushed violently, hiding behind a nervous laughter. “Anissa stop,” but she wasn’t done with the wisdom. “I am serious, girl. If you found yourself some good dick and a guy that actually feeds into your desperate need for adventure, then you might be able to forget all the shit between you and Max.”

“Don’t bring Max into this, please.”

“No? Don’t pretend even for a second we both don’t know exactly what I am talking about. You can’t spend the rest of your life withering away, never getting what you want.”

“I don’t want Max. Not in that way. He’s my friend.”

“And I am the Queen of England.”

“Shall I start referring to you as your Highness, then?”

“Bitch, don’t even start with me. Have you answered even one of Greg's texts this afternoon?”

“I did just before getting in the car so I could tell him to calm the fuck down and that I would have seen him later. I was busy I told you!”

“But you had time to have a snuggly chat with Max and to send him live updates about your sister’s dress choices and to flirt about fucking bride dresses, uh?”

“We weren’t flirting.”

“Who the fuck dares to ask you which dress you would have picked if not to see you in it.”

“It’s not like that, he was joking.”

“Joking my ass. This is my problem with the guy, right? You two are a couple except for some reason you aren’t admitting to it and keep bringing other people into this toxic situationship you got going on. And then you both get fucking surprised when your partners get upset!?”

“Ok, except we are not a couple, Anissa.” Stella was really trying not to get angry and protective about her business, but she was failing.

The truth was she knew exactly what Anissa was talking about. But she didn’t want to hear it. And she didn’t want to argue with, yet again, another person.

“No? What about the copy of the key you got to his place? And let’s all remember he gave it to you during a fancy date? Speaking of dates, are you going to tell me that’s not what you do when you take each other out all the time? Or what about the fact that he got a drawer full of his own clothes in your bedroom? And don’t even get me started on the way you behave around each other.”

“And what would that be, let’s hear it.” Stella tapped her fingers on the wheel, “please don’t stop there, Anissa. You are very opinionated, I wanna hear it.”

“Ok, you want to be like that? Fine. It’s unbearable to watch you around each other and I don’t even date you, guess what the person you date would think seeing you all up against another man!”

“I-”

“Don’t you even try to contradict me because I swear to God Stella I will hang up.” Stella had to bite her tongue and her silence was perceived by Anissa as a free-to-go pass. And she took it. “You two are so physical and you know that.”

“Ok. Say we are. So, what?” 

Anissa grumbled. “You kiss each other on the lips for fuck’s sake! How stupid can you fucking be!?”

“We don’t kiss like that.”

“What? No tongue so it makes it any better? Please, girl. Wake up.”

“Ok.” Stella felt backed into a corner and didn’t know what to do or to say.

There was nothing to say, Anissa was right about it all. She knew how her relationship with Max looked, but she was too used to brushing it all off as normality. It was a toxic habit that became a comfort. To just diminish what she had with Max was easier than facing it.

The last thing she wanted to admit, even to herself, was how her heart ached every time she remembered how they almost had something, but it was never enough.

“Can we get back to how Greg called me a whore in the first place!? Why aren’t we grilling him?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll get to him in a minute.” Anissa chuckled aggressively, “But I am trying to make you see my point here.”

“And what is your point?” Stella sighed. She rested her arm on the side door edge, letting her forehead fall into her hand. She was exhausted.

“Maxwell is using you and your fascination with him to feed his own massive ego. And you are just totally submissive to it. That is what drives me insane.”

“Have you ever thought about the fact that I might be the one using Max?” Stella lashed out. “Maybe I like being treated like he treats me. And maybe I like the way he makes me feel. And we are friends. It’s always been this way.”

“I do not doubt about that. Please, Stella, don’t take my words the wrong way. It cannot go on like this forever. It’s already been what? Fifteen years?”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen,” Anissa chuckled again, “exactly what I am saying! Wake up, the man you want isn’t Greg. Or the guy that came before him. Or any of them. The guy you want is Max.”

“Damn it, Anissa, I can’t do this right now.” Her breath was shaking as she was trying to fight against the tears that burned through her eyes.

Stella felt her heart rolling out of her torn-open chest.

It was true. It was all true. No man would have made her feel complete because she had already found the one. And she could never have him. Maxwell wasn’t the type to ever get there. So, they were to be stuck forever in that situationship.

She knew him well enough to know intimately the kind of problems he was tangled in, and she would have never done anything to jeopardize his wellbeing. Daring to try and change their friendship would have been catastrophic for them, she knew it. And she would have ripped one of her arms off before even thinking to risk losing him.

“Girl, I am sorry. I just can’t see you keep doing this to yourself-”

“I said I can’t do this. Bye Anissa.” As she hung up the phone call, panic started to grow inside of her as anxiety swirled free through her nerves, across her chest and under her skin, making her hands shake.

She thought the decision to break the conversation with Anissa would be the best way to escape the realisation of all of her implications, but she quickly realised her mistake the moment she was left alone inside her car.

The silence surrounding her was pressing and loud.

She started crying, doing her best to keep it as quiet and still as she could. However the more she tried to control her emotions, the more these would fight back, burning wildly through her chest and stomach.

One moment she lied to herself thinking everything would have been fine, and the next she just couldn’t do it anymore. Stella hit the wheel repeatedly, letting out the desperation she had been trying to hide from everyone for years.

When tiredness took over her, washing over her wilder painful emotions, Stella was left feeling empty and cold. She let go of the wheel and dropped heavily on the back of the seat, releasing a small sigh. Then, she did what she knew how to do best, wiping her tears off.

Just now getting back to reality, Stella found herself even more grateful for the slow pace of the traffic she was stuck in. If it had been any other way, she could have risked crashing, losing her mind like that and all.

Another sigh left her chest, making her feel emptier and lonelier than before. Floating above her own emotions and not letting herself feel any of it.

Wiping away another tear escaping her eye, Stella tapped on the radio screen of her car, accessing her phone contacts list. She desperately needed to find a way to cope and escape what was happening. It was so ironic that said way would incidentally be the very reason why she was in that position in the first place.

Selecting Max’s number and starting the call made her nerves calm. She felt like an addict getting through the toxic bliss of a dose after the worst part of her withdrawal symptoms. The familiar noise of the line ringing made her feel stable enough to take a deep breath and relax.

“Babe?” His voice alone made her feel like she was wrapped up in a tight, warm hug.

“Max?” God, her voice sounded shaky. She should have cleared her throat and gathered herself, before calling him.

“Are you ok?” His concern brushed over her skin, making her heart flutter. Everything had already started to feel better. Only now Stella had the certainty she could make it.

“I-” It sounded like he was in a crowded place. “Sorry, I should have texted.”

“Nonsense,” the loud chattering surrounding him suddenly became muffled and distant, “I’m here. What happened? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I am ok.”

“Are you crying?”

“N-no.” She tried to hide away as if she stood right in front of him, wiping her face once more to the best of her abilities. And then, as she caught herself doing it, she felt ridiculous.

“Tell me what can I do, kitten? What’s happening?”

She sighed. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” And I am dying to hear you say how much you love me. She wouldn’t say that. Only thinking about it made her feel guilty and wrong and desperate. Stella cleared her throat. “So? Tell me something.”

“Uh- sorry, you caught me off guard.” Max paused, “I can’t think, I need to know you are ok.”

“Define ok. If that implies that I must have had a pleasant Saturday afternoon and now I must be heading home to spend a lovely evening relaxing to top the beautiful week I just had, then that’s not it. Far from it.” Stella rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I was happy to be stuck in traffic.” She hoped Max would say something, but he didn’t, he was waiting for her to express whatever was on her mind. “Do you know what it means to be happy to be stuck in traffic for twenty minutes in order to have an excuse to be late tonight and possibly cancel my date?”

“Why don’t you just cancel then?”

“I can’t just cancel on Greg this late. He’ll lose his mind.”

“You can. Fuck him. It’s clear you don’t want to see him. Am I wrong?”

“Ok, so, why even bother dating a guy I don’t want to see?”

“You tell me.”

“Max- I’m drowning here, I- I am serious. I can’t do it.”

He sighed on the other side of the line. “Damn it, baby, I wish I was there.”

“I wish that too.”

“Why don’t you take the evening to yourself? Fuck them all. Go to my place and spend the weekend.”

A smile popped on her lips as she drifted away into the idea of hiding away in Maxwell’s apartment.

She could already picture herself taking a long bath in his massive bathtub. Or cooking a nice meal and dancing to some blasting music. Or just lazing on the sofa with his cat.

It wasn’t something new. She often did it in all honesty. There was a reason if she had the key to his place and he wasn’t bothered at all about her coming and going as she pleased. And she just knew she would have enjoyed the quietness of his home. There wasn’t a place that made her feel safer, ever. Even when they had been kids she often found refuge in his family home. But she suspected that feeling she now craved didn’t come from a place, but from the person that lived in it.

“I should be back by tomorrow night and then I can take you out to dinner and we can try and turn your weekend around.” He continued, trying to persuade her.

“I don’t want to be alone, Maxwell.” She confessed with a sad, soft huff.

“You won’t be. Piper is there, she can look after you. And I am pretty sure she could use the company; she doesn’t like her carer all that much.”

“She doesn’t like anyone that’s not you, babe.”

“Ah, but she likes you. Great judge of character that cat, let me tell you.”

Stella tapped her fingers on the wheel nervously as her eyes drifted into the sea of cars in front of her. The traffic had sped up now and she started to feel the pressure of what was expected of her as soon as she got home.

“That’s not what I mean, though. I’d of course love to spend some time with Piper, but I want to see you.” 

“Then come here. Come to me, kitten.”

“Where? To Philly, are you insane?”

“No. Deadly serious. I can have you on a helicopter in a couple of hours and that should get you here just in time.”

“You are insane.” She still giggled, “How do you know all of that?”

“I am always prepared.”

“Maxwell Jacob Friedman, what am I gonna do with you? I can’t just run away from my problems.”

“Why?”

“Because! That’s irresponsible. They’ll still be there when I come back.”

“Yeah, but you’d still be able to get a break from that shitshow. Think about it, you can get here, enjoy the show, then we can go out with the guys and then tomorrow you can leisure in my fancy hotel. SPA, room service, no-limit shopping, whatever you wish it’s yours. I don’t know what made you tick this way but whatever it is I need to make sure you are ok.”

“If only-” she whispered distractedly, more to herself than to him. She needed much less than a trip to Philadelphia and the promise of living at no expense for a day and being treated like a princess. She knew Max would do it. She wasn’t new to the ways he liked to spoil her, but none of those things would have satisfied what she craved, nor they would have brought peace to her heart.  

She was still so mad at Anissa for what she had said. And more. She was mad because Anissa was truly and fundamentally right.

What she had going on with Maxwell wasn’t normal between just friends. And yet, that’s what they were.

“And what if I tell you I wanted to see you? Then would you come?” His tone was soft and tempting. He could be a devil without even trying sometimes.

Just knowing that was his genuine desire made her choke on her breath. Adrenaline started to flow through her veins, fluttering her heart and igniting her nerves. He wanted to see her, and she was ready to drop everything to run to him.

“Maxwell,”

“I mean it.”

“Ok, say I do that. I get home, pack quickly and fly over. Then what?”

“I told you what we’d do if you get here. I got you baby; I’ll take care of you, and you can spend at least a day without shit happening.”

“And we’d play couple.” Her tone was harsher than she wished it to be.

The second she spoke her heart jumped into her throat and regret washed over her. Maybe she should have thought about saying something like that. Maybe she should have counted to ten before speaking. It escaped her tongue, ignited by her tumultuous emotions and desires and now it was out there, floating between them.

But she also knew it was the truth. It was like Anissa had said. They went on dates, they made each other presents, and they had a spare key to each other home. They kissed on the lips. Not for a second, she had ever doubted Maxwell’s intentions. She knew she meant to him more than any other woman he ever had just as much as she knew what tied them was real. And yet it also wasn’t.

A heavy curtain of silence fell between them.

“What are you saying, Stella?” His tone was now deadly serious. As cold and detached as she knew Maxwell could be. He had never been like that with her directly. Until now.

“You know what I am talking about,” a sour smile popped on her lips as she distractedly kept driving, “It’s our game, is it not? We play boyfriend and girlfriend for a bit, but we never go all the way.”

“Stella,” he choked, but she cruelly ignored it.

“And then we just keep living our usual life,” she continued, “pretending this thing between us it’s fine.” A chuckle left her chest, making her second guessing being totally sane at that particular moment. “We aren’t friends.”

“I-”

“Friends don’t behave like we do.” She wasn’t done. “We are the toxic ones, have you ever considered it? We are the ones that are hurting other people because of this thing.”

“I cannot have this conversation with you right now. I need to go.”

“Fine. Go. Get back to me when you are ready to talk about it. So, I am assuming this is a goodbye.”

“Stella,”

“What? Am I wrong!?”

He released a heavy sigh. “Go to my place.” He was angry now. And somehow, knowing she rattled him made her both feel guilty and excited. “Spend the night. At least I’ll know you are safe there.”

Something dark took over her. The idea that her words had power over him was getting to her head, like the rush of adrenaline, making her dizzy. She wanted him angry. She wanted him to lose it. Maybe that was the way to get a reaction out of him.

Consequences? She didn’t want to know the meaning of it. Not then. Not when she was so drunk on the courage and clarity she never had before.

“Why would I do that? I am not your girlfriend, am I?”

“For fuck’s sake.” His frustration made her heart flutter, “No, you are not my girlfriend, and? I still want to make sure you are ok.”

“I am not okay, Maxwell. Nothing about this conversation is okay. Nothing about us is OK! You know what will happen if I go to your place tonight?”

He huffed tiredly, “what?”

“I’ll get there, and I’ll be surrounded by your things, in your space, and I’ll play pretend.” He mumbled something but she ignored him. “I could walk around naked. But more likely I’ll wear something of yours just to smell you on me. And I will miss you more than ever because I’d know how out of place I am. And then I’ll snuggle in that massive empty bed, and I’ll pretend you’d be there.”

He hissed on the other side of the line, but again, Stella ignored him. “And that’s how you like me, uh? That’s what you like. You want me in your space. You like me around. Just never entirely.”

He chuckled dangerously. “Stella, I swear to God, I’m losing it right now,” and then she heard a thud like he had hit something.

A shiver crossed her spine to the idea he was losing control. She was high on that feeling, it made her feel like she could achieve anything. She could lift the entire world if she wanted. And it may have been only an illusion, but she felt like she had him in the palm of her hand.

“Yeah? And what will you do about it? You are in Philadelphia. And I am here.”

“Stop being difficult. Jesus, what got into you!?”

“Nothing. I am just saying out loud something I should have said years ago. I am done playing pretend, Maxwell.”

“Fine, you want to be like that? Be like that."

"Fine."

"Goddammit, Stella,"

As her high started to wear off, Stella started to realise there was nothing but pain gnawing at her bones.

"I'm sorry," her tone was shaking, "but I mean it. Come and get me, otherwise, I think we should be done."

"Don't do this," he pleaded, "please,"

Max's words ripped a gasp out of her chest.

"Too late." Stella looked right in front of her. She was squeezing the wheel so tight the knuckles went white. "I love you. And it's not enough anymore."

"I need to go." He still hesitated, staying a moment longer on the line before hanging up.

When silence surrounded her once more, Stella felt like she was choking on her own breath. Her chest was compressed shut. Heartbroken.

She tried to wrap her head around what just happened and nothing made sense. Yet, it felt like there was nothing else that could have happened.

For the first time in her life, she had been honest. With herself. With Max. She loved him. And whatever that was giving her wasn’t enough. She needed more and what she truly needed she knew Max would never be ready to give. And the world was spinning so fast around her and didn’t hint to stop.

She had lost control completely. And, incidentally, she had never felt so free.

A smile grew on her lips as tears started falling across her reddened cheeks again. She welcomed the pain with solace, like an old friend. It was consuming and at the same time, it was tranquil.

But she wasn’t done. The emotional starvation that spiralled through her quickly became a hunger for more truths. She needed more chaos. Suddenly, Stella felt the desperate need to see her entire world crumble and go up in flames. And maybe she was acting erratic, spiralling towards complete madness, but she didn’t care.

She hadn’t cared for consequences all that time; she wouldn’t have started then.

Taking advantage of another stop through the traffic, Stella picked her phone up from the charging station and opened Greg’s chat, ignoring the sequence of texts he had sent in the past half an hour.

“I am sorry to do this through a text. I wish I was a better person. I won’t make it tonight. And this isn’t working. You deserve better. Best of luck out there.”

Sent.

Stella wondered if she was supposed to trust her decision-making a moment too late. Everything had been set in motion now. It was late for regrets.

She dropped her phone on the passenger seat and then quickly tapped on the car screen, hitting redial.

Stella tapped her fingers impatiently on the wheel as the line rang and realised she was holding her breath in only when the call got finally picked up on the other side.

“I want you to know that I was considering ignoring you.”

“I am sorry,” Stella blurted out, “I shouldn’t have reacted that way, shutting you out.”

“Girl,” Anissa sighed, “no, you shouldn’t have, but I understand. I shouldn’t have insisted-”

“You were right.” Stella cut through Anissa’s words before she could make even more of a fool out of herself. She had been clowning for seventeen years, after all, it was about time to be done with it. “Max is not just a friend to me. I am sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“No, I am. I’ve been horrible to so many people because of it. I’ve hurt people,”

“You hurt yourself more than anyone, Stella. What’s done is done, let the past go.” Anissa grumbled softly, “Fine, you have been shitty with a few of your exes but, in all honesty, they were the stupid ones if they didn’t see it coming.”

“I need you to be real now, not to be my loyal best friend.”

“I am always both, girl. Listen, what are you going to do now?”

“Nothing. I’ve already done it. I think me and Max are done.”

“What!?”

A wall of pain hit her. She felt it on her skin and into her flesh, like swimming through fine glass. It was tangible and suffocating, making it hard to breathe.

But Stella held a brave face, drying her tears with a quick brush of her fingertips.

“I- I told him how I feel. What I want. And, I do not think he is ready. I don’t think he ever will. So, yeah. This is it. And I just broke up with Greg too.”

Anissa cheered from the other side of the phone, “On fire! Girl, what got into you!?”

“Question of the day,” Stella shook her head and then sighed, “Anyway, now it’s your turn to get toasted. How’s LA?”

Stella kept her eyes pointed in front of her, not that she was paying attention to the traffic, but it was better than risking looking at the screen of her radio and seeing the pop-ups of all the messages coming from Greg.

“Usual. Sunny. Why? Feel like visiting?”

Stella chuckled, “You know what? Doesn’t sound too bad. I might, after my sister’s wedding.”

Right. The wedding. She didn’t even want to think about it. Not now. Not when it would have been her kiss of death.

Anissa burst into laughter. “Bitch you sure will need a holiday. What’s your plan now?”

“Gonna get home and have a long shower. Maybe cry? Then I’ll order myself some takeout and then, I plan to pass out on the sofa eating ice cream.”

“Sounds fucking amazing if you ask me.”

“You know me. Keeping up living the dream.”

Stella wrapped her wet hair into a towel and then, she gave a good look at herself in the mirror.

God, she looked so tired.

She had tried to cancel the traces of misery off her skin with her serums, oils and creams, but it didn’t seem to do the trick. Not to her eyes anyways. Not when she could so clearly see the traces of pain and guilt smudging her expression. Not when she knew the extent of the violent sobs that took over her as soon as she stepped into her house and felt completely naked and alone.

Maybe she should have avoided mirrors for the next few days. Only to give herself some time to recover. Just until Monday. Then, with the start of a new week, there was also the hope of her being able to look at herself. Maybe.

Walking around barefoot, Stella didn’t much care for how cold the wooden floor of her small apartment was. She wasn't really there after all, she was floating, trying to ignore the despair gnawing at her insides. She was only wearing the top half of a pyjama and was ready to settle in on the sofa, which looked perfectly welcoming with its nest of pillows and blankets.

Her TV was tuned on TBS.

She may have known it would have been better not to tempt her pain. Just thinking about watching Max live on screen made her so painfully aware of the empty space carved into her chest. Just like his silence.

Max hadn’t reached out. However, she had taken the decision to actively ignore it because just thinking about it made her spiral into the void of fearing he would never reach out ever again. And how could she ever deal with that level of mourning?

And yet she couldn’t keep away. It was her guilty pleasure.

No one needed to know. No one needed to see how small and desperate she could become only to feel connected to him, even if in such a fleeting way. Even if that made her pathetic.

Though, despite it all, there was peace settling into her, now.

That was at least until her door was shaken by three firm knocks.

Stella flinched and froze, looking over at the thin wooden panel.

Her heart started to beat faster and faster. As adrenaline buzzed through her nerves, she felt her skin warming up for the first time in hours. Her eyes were suddenly brightened and even a smile grew on her lips.

It couldn’t be.

But what if it was?

What if-

She threw herself at the door, opening it up with all the outburst of expectations to find, on the other side, a Max that had dropped everything just to get to her. In her head, she was already picturing how sweet it would have been to be finally swooped into his arms with no remorse, no pain, and no more fear.

Though reality was quickly slapping her in the face.

“Greg?” Her smile died out.

“Expecting someone else?” He wondered dryly.

He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot. He wore a creased shirt that seemed to be missing a tie. Maybe even a suit jacket. His breath reeked of booze. He held himself up on the door frame, just as if he feared he would stumble if he stood up straight. But worse, was the look he had. Crazed and unstable. Somewhat dangerous.

A cold shiver crossed her back. All of a sudden, Stella didn’t feel safe. It was an unexplained feeling that gathered behind her neck. Everything inside of her shouted to run.

She acted without thinking clearly. Stella checked the corridor around Greg before looking back up at him. Before she could say anything, or even try to pretend to be welcoming to maybe put him at ease, she instinctively hid herself behind the door.

What a mistake.

Greg acted immediately and pushed the door open. “Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me I’m not welcomed all of a sudden, uh!?”

“I-”

Before she could even try to say anything, he was inside her house. Greg gave her a harsh push hurling her in the middle of the room, far enough for him to have access to the door and lock it.

Stella's fear grew. She felt her blood pound into her ears. She didn’t even try to fight him but took advantage of the time he took to fiddle with the lock to move across the room and around the small kitchen table.

“Let’s talk about this,” She tried to appease him, as she looked around, desperately trying to find anything that could be used against him. Though the moment he turned towards her, Stella raised her hands into a peaceful gesture, now her entire attention was on him. “How can I help you?” She continued, deciding that maybe she needed to act casual.

“How can you help me?” Greg chuckled. “Maybe picking up your fucking phone!?” He shouted startling her. “You always run like a fucking bitch to pick it up for him but the moment it’s me, your actual boyfriend, you don’t even bother.”

Stella had to bite her tongue not to correct him in any way. It wasn’t the time to remind him they had never gone official.

“I’m sorry,” she was trying her best not to succumb to her need to run. She had a feeling if she did, it would have prompted him to catch her. And she didn’t want him to put his hands on her. “You are right; I should have picked it up.”

“Am I right?” Greg chuckled again, pinching at the root of his nose. “Of course, I am fucking right! You dumped me through a shitty text and then didn’t even have the decency to pay me the respect or even the care of an explanation!”

He was out of his mind. And she hated that she had to make herself small in order not to get a violent reaction out of him. But she knew the situation would have only gotten worse if she had said what she truly thought.

“I am sorry,” she started, deciding to be brave - or maybe stupid – Stella left her safe spot behind the table and moved closer to him. She knew it only had the appearance of being safe, if Greg had snapped, he could have easily flung it out of the way. Keeping her hands well risen not to appear threatening, Stella approached him. She only needed to calm him down to give her enough of a chance to get out of there. “You are right, I have wronged you. I wish I could justify it with having a bad day, but it still wasn’t fair on you.” Greg didn’t react, which prompted her to place a shaky hand on his chest. Since he still didn’t move, she cupped the other around his jaw, looking straight into his eyes. “I had wronged you so much.”

It was still dangerous. And he still looked completely out of it. She wasn’t safe there, but at least her plan seemed to work.

Greg crumbled in her hold and shrank on her, pressing his face into her shoulder and she did the only thing she could think was right. Taking advantage of his distraction once more, she looked around the room.

He blocked her way to the door, plus it was locked and taking the time to open it would have ruined her chances. She already knew her best way out, if she didn't manage to get him out of her apartment of his own accord, was the fire escape running on the side of the building by her bedroom window.

At least that gave her an out. She would have thought about the rest later.

She still needed to put on clothes. Some sort of pants at least. New York was crazy, but it didn't mean she was willing to get out in the streets in underwear.

Her bag. She needed her bag. That she knew was on the counter behind her.

Her phone? God, where did she put her phone?

She started to panic, looking around. Her heart was beating so quickly that she started feeling light-headed. Trying to keep Greg calm and oblivious, cradling him slowly, was nerve-wracking. He could have switched at any minute. And if he did, she was right under his grasp. If he did, she would have had to fight her way out of there.

The TV in the background chattered. She wasn’t paying too much attention; she was too concentrated on Greg's every tiny movement to listen to Tony Schiavone and Jim Ross talking along one of the matches.

The second the fleeting thought she had it and could make it was the moment Stella regretted every choice she had taken that day.

It happened in a second. One moment Greg appeared harmless as he bent into his insecurities, letting her hold him. And the next, he violently snapped, leaving her no way out.

Greg grabbed her arms and gave her a strong squeeze. Firmly holding her, he pushed her harshly through the kitchen, willingly railing her through the table and against the counter. Stella lost her breath. She had barely time to assess the hit, as a shot of pain exploded through her back and right leg. It seemed unimportant to think about the bruises she would have probably shown in a few hours, and yet, part of her brain escaped there, already at the after.

“You fucking whore,” Greg snarled in her face, “tell me the truth. You are fucking him, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Stella pleaded, trying to push him off her without success. She kicked and wiggled, but he was unmovable. His entire body weight pressed on her.

“No?” He hesitated a moment, only to get back in her face. “Liar!” He shouted.

A split second later, Greg punched her right in the face. She didn’t have any time to react, nor to see it coming and at least try to defend herself. Her head cocked back, hitting the hardwood of the cabinets and hot pain gushed through her skull, making her squeal. Her vision went black. At first, she got disoriented. Her thoughts suddenly light. Her fear was unimportant. Then she felt her blood pumping into her head and she started to fear to be bleeding.

Trying her best to recover her focus, Stella barely had a second to gather herself. Greg wasn’t done. “If I can’t have you. Nobody can.” By then he was manic. “Not even him.” He pushed her against the cabinets once more, just to hurt her and cruelly smiled at her whimpers. “What do you think he’d do once he found out you had been ruined? He wouldn’t want you anymore if you weren’t so pretty and delicate,” he smiled cruelly and a shiver of pure terror crossed her.

He wanted to seriously hurt her.

Greg clutched at her throat squeezing the breath out of her lungs. This time he didn’t contain himself like he did earlier. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her neck, pressing against her jugular.

Stella needed to react. Fast. She would have fainted in a handful of seconds if she didn’t. And the last thing she wanted was to be unconscious around him.

The fear that froze her caught fire, possibly prompted by the adrenaline that raged through her veins. At first, Stella grabbed Greg’s wrist, digging ferociously her nails into his skin, trying to make him loosen his grip. Then, as soon as she noticed she wouldn’t have much success, she moved to his face.

Stella scratched his cheeks causing him to yell. The moment she realised her main thought at the moment was to gather as much of his DNA under her nails as she could, was the moment she decided it wasn’t the time to play safe anymore. She went full-on fight mode and shoved both her thumbs into his eye sockets, pressing vigorously on his eyes until he let go of her.

She didn’t even care about the extent of his possible injuries.

As Greg was destabilised, crying out loud, she took advantage of his loss of balance and gave him a strong push with both arms and legs. Enough to give her a small opening to bolt towards her bedroom.

Stella jumped through the door, remembering to grab her bag on the way, and then locked the door behind her back, taking only a second to rest on the wooden panel and catch her breath. She needed to get out of there. It was about the only thing she remembered clearly. Everything else was so fuzzy. She still felt her head on fire. Her lower back was hurting. The entire left side of her face was numb.

She needed to call the police. But her phone was lost.

A shot of clarity made her remember she had thrown it distractedly on the sofa, which meant it was impossible for her to reach it now.

And then her second of peace to gather her thoughts was gone. Greg hit the door once. Then again. “Don’t be like that, sweety. What you just did wasn’t nice.”

Stella didn’t let herself freeze again. Even if she just wanted to curl into a ball and cry until she would have disappeared, she fought again. Now against herself.

Greg hit the door again. This time he was pounding it down with his shoulder, trying to cave his way through it. “You got nowhere to go. I will catch you. And then you will pay for how you had humiliated me.”

He was out of his mind. And that door may have had perfectly good hinges, but she suspected he would have found a way in, sooner or later.

Losing time was out of the question.

She so wanted to shout at him all the ways she would have made him regret what he had just done to her. She wanted to scare and hurt him just as much as he dared to try and do to her. But she had to swallow her pride and accept that that battle wasn’t to be won there and then. She needed to be alive and well to win anything.

Stella ran across the room and grabbed the first thing she found to cover herself. She hurried to wear a random pair of joggers she didn’t even see the colour of, and then she threw on an uncoordinated cardigan, just to keep warm. Quickly looking underneath her bed, she pulled out a box containing an old pair of shoes she bought on a whim and never wore because they were too pretty and too expensive. They were heels. It didn’t matter.

Holding them firmly, together with her purse, Stella slid out the window and down the set of steep metal stairs of the fire escape. As soon as she hit the ground, she started running literally for her life.

[majesticwren]

fallingforyou (MJF x OFC)

following this post this concept is now a fic, sorry not sorry. I'm struggling trust me. (help me)

Trigger Warning/s: slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, depiction of toxic relationships, intimacy and commitment problems, childhood traumas, jealousy, possessiveness, hints of physical and verbal abuse, bullying, hints of anti-semitism, everyone is a walking red flag, angst, fluff, smut.

Masterlist Playlist

Part I | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Chapter 2.

Ten Years Ago

Stella was dancing to one of Ke$ha's songs, enjoying having a night like any other teenager. It was part of her prerogatives: enjoy the party like any seventeen-year-old, get drunk and forget about her life.

She wasn't even supposed to be out but escaping from her house right under her parents' noses was the easiest thing in the world. Sometimes she wondered if they even cared at all or if they purposely made it easy for her. Maybe they just didn't like her to be around. Not when they could focus all their attention and affection on their golden child, her sister. Why waste energy on the black sheep of the family?

Fuck them, she thought. Fuck them all. She wouldn't have wasted time in that town for long anyway.

Only that thought made her giggle. And then she giggled some more realising that the alcohol was finally making her feel silly and light, as if she was floating above her problems. It was also making her feel dizzy and slightly nauseous, but that was part of the game.

She stumbled on her own feet as she danced and losing balance made her stop, as she was suddenly aware of being extremely uncoordinated. The booze was definitely going to her head quickly. Maybe that was the risk everyone always talked about.

As she tried to focus on her surroundings, Stella spotted an opened window in the back of the room facing the back garden. Nice, she thought, maybe she needed some air. Another giggle escaped her mouth.

Only when she stepped out of the crowded house, did she realise how hot and unbreathable the air was in that concentrated room. She welcomed the crispy cold air with a twirl.

The partying was starting to take a toll on her. Or it could be the alcohol. Most definitely it was the alcohol. Either way, her feet were hurting in her uncomfortable high heels and her ears pounded with the echo of the loud music playing. One problem was easily taken care of since outside the music wasn’t so loud, whereas for the first, well, that was as easy as kicking her damn shoes off. Stella left them behind, enjoying the tickle of the wet grass on the sole of her feet. The ground felt solid, cold and so pleasant it made her want to breathe in the world.

She stumbled across the empty garden and almost tripped over a couple of times, not entirely able to focus very well in her scarcely lit surroundings as if the shots of tequila she downed like water didn't have anything to do with it. She giggled to herself, somehow finding that thought funny.

Stella found an empty sunbed by the pool and dropped heavily on it. She wondered briefly if the pool was still accessible but quickly reminded herself it was almost November. It couldn't be.

Stella raised her eyes into the night sky. A placid smile crossed her lips.

The stars were pretty.

She didn't even feel the cold seeping under her skin. She quite liked it actually.

Another giggle left her chest.

"Be careful not to fall in the water."

She gasped and sat up straight, feeling like she was just caught doing something wrong. “What?”

“The water. Must be cold.”

Focusing on the person’s shape stepping closer to her, it took her only a second longer to recognise him. A warm smile quickly spread on her lips. “Max!” She welcomed him gladly, raising a hand to him. As soon as the boy slid his fingers across her palm softly, Stella giggled and gave him a pull, just because she wanted to have him closer. “Come here,”

Max sat on the sunbed by her legs, not opposing her wish and not letting go of her hand. It was easy to forget how a direct contact like that made her feel. Her heart was fluttering, and adrenaline roared through her veins, igniting her nerves. His skin was always so warm sometimes it was impossible for her to stay away.

It must have been the booze though, surely.

“Give me your other hand,” he suggested softly, and Stella didn’t refuse him, doing what he asked without even thinking. He kept her hands safe, caging both in between his large palms. “Your hands are cold,” he began, raising their tangle of fingers to his mouth only to blow some warm air on her skin.

She giggled at the sensation, shaking her head. “Not anymore, silly.”

Max’s eyes slid across her body. “I don’t know how you manage to bear these temperatures in that minidress.”

“It is not that cold.”

“Stella, where are your shoes?”

She vaguely pointed to the door she came out of, not even bothering to make sure she mumbled the right words. She was all smiles and giggles the moment she caught Max looking at her, “This is a good little dress,”

“I’m sure it is.” His eyes floated on the high cut of her tight skirt, which Stella didn’t miss, even with her senses being blurry. She followed his eyes with her hands only to play with the helm of her skirt. Her decency was blurry too. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” his eyes shot back on her face, “me and about the entire school football team. The swimmers’ team. I suspect even the chess squad.”

Stella chuckled, giving him a soft push. “Stop it. Don’t tell me you are jealous.”

“I am.” Max leaned in, getting so close to her face that Stella thought he would kiss her. For only a moment she let herself hope for it to happen. How would have it felt to finally feel his lips? But that thought came and went as soon as she realised he was only being his usual, sarcastic self. “Everyone knows you are my girl.”

Her heart creaked but Stella had to compliment herself, she wasn’t showing any of her heartbreak even despite being tipsy.

She was his girl. But she wasn’t allowed to be his girl in the way she wanted to be. In a way that it was forbidden for her to wish to be. They did everything together and she was the guardian of his deepest secrets, fears, and confidences. But his girlfriend was someone else.

Her problems didn’t stop there though. Being his girl meant that all the boys in high school wouldn’t dare to get close to her. She hadn’t been on a real date with kids her age yet. Her parents had tried to set her up a couple of times, but she wouldn’t even consider those older men they tried to hook her up with. Those didn’t count.

“I am not your girl,” Stella giggled tapping her index on his nose, “you have a girlfriend, and she is inside.”

Max rolled his eyes and then he slipped out of his football jacket carrying the colours and crest of their high school, placing it over her legs. Just then, feeling the warmth trapped in the heavy material of his jacket touch her exposed legs, Stella had to admit she was, in fact, cold. She wouldn’t have said that out loud though. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“You are drunk.” He stated. He was serious but not angry or judgmental. But then again, Stella wouldn’t care in the slightest if he was. She lowered herself back to lay on the sunbed, slipping a hand off his hold just to hint with index and thumb that she was, in fact, a little drunk. The giggle that followed gave it away more than her signals though.

“I should take you home.”

“No, no,” she whined tugging at him to get closer, “I don’t want to go home just yet.”

“But it would be the responsible thing to do.”

Stella pouted and instead of paying attention to his words, she tried to get a grip on his t-shirt, just so she could pull him closer. Suddenly she was eager to feel his warmth, greedy to have him as close as she could.

Max gave in with a sigh, “Scootch over,” Stella happily did, leaving him some space to lay next to her and then she was happy to snuggle on his chest. Max welcomed her with no objection, and then they both lay there, looking at the stars. “Only five minutes, ok? Then we are going home.”

“I don’t want to go home. I don’t like it there.”

“Who said I’m taking you back to yours?” Max smirked, “You are coming home with me and then tomorrow morning you can convince my mother to make pancakes. She loves you too much to say no to you.”

“Deal,”

He chuckled in response distractedly ending up playing with a lock of her hair. Her head was spinning but she wasn't sure anymore it was only the booze. She liked being between Max's arms, but that was a secret she wouldn't allow herself to feel when she was sober. Another giggle escaped her lips.

“Wouldn’t your girlfriend hate you if you left the party earlier?” She was still grinning, nuzzling on his chest, as if she had something to prove.

“No more than how much she would hate seeing I’m with you.”

“Oh, yeah, right. We aren’t supposed to be talking, are we?”

“No.”

A sad sigh left her chest. She may have been drunk, but she knew what it meant to almost lose him for good. All thanks to his jealous, possessive, stupid, pretty girlfriend who couldn’t take the idea of him spending time with his best friend. Not that Stella could entirely say her worries weren’t justified, but it was still annoying.

“Why?” She wondered, her question dropping right out of her thoughts. Stella pinned herself up just enough to look at him in the eyes, falling right through those warm, brown irises.

“Why what?”

“Why can’t we just ignore all these stupid rules? It’s me and you after all. I don’t want to let boyfriends or girlfriends get in the middle of us.”

“I think it’s inevitable.”

“But why? Can’t we decide how we want it to work for us?”

“I suppose.”

She laid back down, nuzzling into his chest. “Me and you are more important.”

“Yes,” he hugged her and softly kissed her forehead, “I agree.”

“Promise me,” she mumbled against his chest.

“What?”

“Promise me no one will get between us.” She looked back up at him, “No girlfriends or boyfriends, no family or friends, no husbands nor wives, jobs or lives.”

Max smiled softly, “I pinkie promise.”

Present Day

“It’s going to be fine; I am sure of it.”

“Mh. I am not so sure. Plus, I really don’t want to go.” She pulled a pout, squeezing herself into the car seat.

Stella held her phone to her chest, hugging it like she wished she could have done with the man on the other side of the line. Hiding between Maxwell’s arms would have been much nicer than the cold, empty alternative.

“Sit there and whine about it won’t make it go away, babe.”

“Thanks, Friedman, that’s exactly the motivation I needed.”

“Sorry,” Max’s hoarse giggle spread from the phone straight under her skin and to her stomach. It was a sound extremely familiar and generally encouraging. Though now she fought against its calming effects. “I thought you wanted to see your sister,” he continued.

“I do.” Stella paused sighing, “It’s her stupid friends I don’t want to see.”

“Ah, fuck them. They are just envious; you know how it is.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well,” she briefly fiddled with the edge of her long scarf, “I don’t like them, and they sure don’t like me. Did I tell you about how ancient they made me feel the last time I had to go to one of these things? I couldn’t understand half of the words they used.”

“Yes, you mentioned it bestie.”

Stella ignored the way Max’s voice suddenly ended up being a higher pitch, as he mocked the younger generations' lingo. She knew he was trying to lift the spirits but the only thing she could think about was how she dreaded the idea of having to spend the afternoon surrounded by a small hoard of twenty-year-old bridesmaids assisting an extremely young bride-to-be to her dress fitting.

“And let’s hope my sister didn’t invite Mother to come along again. The way that woman can always manage to make me feel a complete failure without even trying very hard. The way she looks down on me it’s enough.” Stella rolled her eyes, “So, Stella,” she started mocking things that had been said to her on previous occasions pushing out a lower-pitched voice pretending to be as posh as possible, “how does it feel to watch your younger sister getting married before you? You know what they say, the clock is ticking.”

Max huffed on the other side of the phone. “And I suppose the fact that you have a degree, a career, sit on a fat pile of money and figured it all out on your own, differently from them who has daddy’s money, doesn’t count?”

“Oh, Friedman, what are you even talking about? What’s a career compared to being a trophy wife staying at home mum shooting out babies?”

“You’d be a lovely trophy wife.”

“I am smacking your shmuck face, Maxwell.”

He giggled again. “Fine, c’mon, what else? Get it out of your system now so then you can wear your big-girl pants and go do your maid of honour job.”

Stella immediately switched back to her twenty-years-old persona “Oh, is that your dress for the ceremony? You should get your season palette checked out.”

“What the fuck is a season palette?”

“Uh,” Stella leaned against the side of the door, sighing. Her day wasn't even halfway done, and she already felt exhausted. “There’s a theory for which certain colours fit your skin complexion more than others. So, it was a complicated way to say my dress is shit.”

“I’ve seen you in your dress, you are hot, forget them.”

“Just do me a favour, shoot me?”

“Sorry, can’t do that. I can try to get you out of it earlier if you like though?”

“No. Please, don’t worry. Don’t you have that thing shortly?”

“What? The interview? Please, I am MJF after all, I can make them wait if you want me to.”

“No, I don’t want you to. How about we all put our big pants on and go do this thing?”

“Fine, put the phone down then.”

“You put the phone down.”

They both just waited silently for a few minutes and as Stella listened to Maxwell's silence on the other line, a small smile grew on her lips.

“See? You can’t get enough of me.” He laughed.

“Shut up, Mr thing, I just don’t like hanging up.”

“Sure.” Stella just knew he was smiling in that extreme way that made his cheeks blush slightly. “Are you gonna watch me tonight?”

“Of course! I’d never miss it.” Her heart fluttered only thinking about it. But then a shadow covered her heart. “Greg will have to deal with it.”

Stella could have told Max about the accident in the park. He knew everything about her life after all, and yet her tongue was tied.

Greg’s voice still echoed in her ears. She heard it repeatedly. “You little whore”. It burned in her pride and made her blood bubble up violently, but at the same time, it just switched her off completely.

Max didn’t need to know such a thing. She knew him well enough by then to know he would have gone ballistic for something like that. Men that had disrespected her in the past had regretted it and she didn’t want that to happen between him a Greg. Not because she cared about Greg, but because she needed him around. And she also knew what advice Max would have given her. Advice she needed to remain deaf to, at least for now.

“Greg can suck my fat cock if he doesn’t agree with it.”

“Maxwell!”

“What? How does it happen that you date a guy that doesn’t like wrestling?”

“He doesn’t like you.”

“Same thing.”

Stella chuckled but before she could reply to Max, a knock on the window distracted her. She gasped, looking over. “Hold on,” she told Max as she lowered the automatic window to her sister’s friendly face.

Jenna was always full of smiles. She was a creature made of sweetness and everything good. No emotion could ever be hidden on her face and at that specific moment, she was glowing, as happy as ever. After all, that’s how a bride should look like a week before her wedding.

Stella would have died for her sister. She was grateful to be so close to her. Jenna was about the only member of her family that she kept in touch with and would have never pushed away. Stella was so proud of the woman she had become and all of her choices; and she liked her future husband enough to have never opposed the idea of her sister getting married at only twenty-one, despite how harsh her opinions on the matter might be.

“Hey, stranger!” Jenna chirped, offering the widest of smiles as she hooked her hands on the car window, “What are you doing? We have been waiting for you!”

“Tell me that we don’t include Mother and I’ll come without opposing.”

“You are in luck, she was kept.”

“Oh, thanks fuck,” Stella praised, causing her sister to giggle.

“What were you doing?”

“Sorry, sis. I was on the phone with Maxwell I hadn’t noticed the time.” It wasn’t true. She had noticed the time just as much as she had seen the group of bridesmaids gathering by the shop doors, but she had chosen to cosy up in her car and pretend to be late.

“Oh? Max? Is he still on the line? Hi Max!” 

“You are on speaker,” Stella suggested leaning closer to her phone.

“Oh, well then, hi Jenna! How are you?”

“Good, thank you, what about you?”

“Ah, you know, great but always busy.”

“Yeah, Stella mentioned these are busy weeks for you. Don’t overdo it and make sure you look after yourself!”

“I will do.”

“Oh, alright then.” She giggled not even trying to hide the blushing on her cheeks. “Next time you are in town you must drop by; I would love to see you.”

“Uh,” Max released a soft huff, “I will try my best but if not, I’m definitely looking forward to seeing you Friday.”

Stella froze and squeezed her phone against her chest as if she could stop Max from talking forward, but by that point, it was too late, Jenna was already freaking out.

“Oh, my God, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Oh. My. God!”

“Stella didn’t mention?”

“No,” Stella cut through their talks glaring dangerously at her phone screen just as she would if Max stood in front of her. “I hadn’t mentioned, bye Friedman.”

She coldly hung up not giving him the space to reply in any way. She knew it was harsh and her chest ached thinking about it, but she also knew she had to find a way to survive her sister’s hectic behaviour. She would have fixed things with Max later.

As soon as Stella slipped out of her car, her sister was by her side giggling and jumping around like crazy. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? Oh my god, I can’t believe it! Oh, I must tell John immediately.”

“Jenna, calm down.”

“I can’t calm down! Max is coming to the bachelorette party!”

“Only dropping by for a quick drink.”

Stella ignored her ecstatic squeaks to briefly check her phone as they walked to the shop.

She ignored the ten pressing messages Greg left on their chat, knowing she didn’t have the time or patience to pay attention to him.

They were supposed to meet that night for a dinner date since she had been so busy for the past week, but after what happened earlier that day she was tempted to cancel. He did call her a whore after all, she was supposed to be infuriated. Instead, Stella chose not to care. It could have gone either way and she would have survived. She went through enough breakups by then to know the drill. The only reason why she was keeping up with that prick was her personal vendetta at the wedding.

Fucking despicable even for her.

Instead of paying attention to Greg, she opened the just-arrived message Max sent. “Sorry kitten x”. A soft smile grew on her lips, and she quickly proceeded to type back. “You certainly aren’t. Good luck today, call me later? x”

“So, is he coming to the wedding as your plus one or-”

“Who’s the plus one?” By then they were close enough to the shop and the other bridesmaids had flocked by their side, picking at their conversation.

Feeling exposed, Stella rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “No one.” She turned towards Jenna, forcing her to stop on her feet. “Greg is my plus one for the weekend. Max is coming only to the ceremony because you invited him.” Somehow it was fundamental she specified that.

“I thought he would be busy with work next week.”

“Yeah, he was. There had been a last-minute change in the roster, so he now has the weekend off.”

“Why?”

“His partner got injured.”

“Not Adam!”

“I’m afraid so,” Stella shrugged, shaking her head, “he’s fine though, I promise.”

“Who are you talking about?” Wondered one of the three girls surrounding them.

All three of them were extremely beautiful girls, unafraid of showing it off, and so it was for their wealth and privilege. They were the kind of girls who would have a twice-weekly appointment with a beautician, keeping their nails, lashes, and make-up always in check. Trips to the hair salon happened on a regular basis, just as it would be with being treated at the SPA. They were slim as ever, wearing the latest trend style of clothing and fancy stylists' names, showing off how they were part of that inaccessible world made of big money, massive mansions and expensive cars.

A world so cruel and so cold Stella could only hope they would realise it before it was too late.

Stella hated the person she would become standing close to them. They were everything her family had once wished her to become. They were a reflection of the woman she was supposed to grow into. Therefore, she hated them with every fibre of her being. It wasn’t their fault. But looking at them triggered a hidden part inside of her, made of all the emotional trauma she had to survive ever since she was a child.

Rebelling to her parents' wishes and daring to find her own way had caused a fracture in her family. It was the reason why she wasn’t ever invited to family events. Her father hadn’t spoken to her once in ten years. There were no pictures of her around her parents’ house. Most people didn’t even know that there were two daughters as heiresses to their family empire. And the ones who knew also knew never to ask about their older daughter.

The only person that Stella didn’t condemn was Jenna. She managed to follow in her footsteps just enough to develop her own personality, but she didn’t rebel against her parents’ rules as much as Stella did. In a way, Jenna also got out, in the end. She was lucky enough to desperately fall in love with a decent man who respected her and who was wealthy enough to be accepted by her family.

Stella hadn’t been that lucky – but also, she didn’t want it any other way. It was history. She made it out. And she didn’t want anything to do with them. After spending the good part of the past ten years studying psychology at college and criminal law at Stanford, she was hired by one of the most prestigious firms in New York City. She had her own empire to look after now.

Not bad. She had often to remind herself her worth was self-made and that she deserved to walk around with pride.

That was her sad, pitiful story. If one wanted to dig into her intimacy issues, probably the way she was brought up and what she went through was the root of it all. But, at the same time, it wasn’t that deep or farfetched.

Being distracted a second, Stella didn’t have the time to hint to her sister to shut up that Jenna was already chattering away. “You know how Stella and I are friends with that big-shot wrestler I told you about?”

“Oh, yes! What’s his name again?” Said one.

“Urgh, wrestling is for losers,” added another, to which Stella promptly sent a dangerous glare.

“No, I think wrestling is hot! Most wrestlers are hot anyways with all those muscles,” said the last one, receiving an equally dangerous look from Stella.

She didn’t know if she rathered them thinking Max was hot or a loser. Either way, she rather them not think about him at all.

“His name is MJF, and wrestling is definitely hot, we grew up with it,” Jenna sent Stella a cheeky look, “did you know my sister trained for years too? She used to be a wrestler.”

“That was a long time ago, Jen.” It was a reminder both for her sister and for herself.

It had been almost ten years since that time. Since her almost-debut. And there hadn’t been a day that went by that she didn’t miss it desperately.

It was weird, she didn’t miss the drunken crowd or the small victories in the minor events she would get to wrestle. She missed the small things. Like how the squared circle of that place smelled like piss. Or the bruises. Or how the small gym smelled like burned tobacco because their first trainer was a bitter man who saw his career come to a stop because of a bad injury, and who was unable to be anything without a lit cigarette in his fingers.

Stella was quick to push aside those thoughts before guilt and regrets would take over and clutch at her chest.

It didn’t matter anyway. The other three weren’t listening to them, they were all looking at a shared phone screen, making gasping noises.

“Oh my god, your friend is hot!”

“Wouldn’t mind getting a piece of this loser.” Mumbled the same one who disliked wrestling.

“What did I say about wrestling being hot? Look at his muscles!”

All three giggled to each other.

“I just know I am ready to become such a slut next weekend,”

“Is he tall? He looks tall.”

Stella rolled her eyes, grumbling loudly. She didn’t like them talking that way about Max. Not because she was in any way prude or didn’t get exactly what they were on about, but because she was beyond protective with him. She was possessive. Even when she didn’t have any reason to be. Or right. “Are you all quite done? Can we go do what we came here to do?”

“Oh, fuck, what is it? Uncovered nerve or something?”

“I am just busy and on a schedule. Sorry to burst your bubble ladies, I need to be back in Manhattan by six tonight.”

“You aren’t staying for dinner with us?”

And get to witness how a normal evening went between a healthy, happy couple? She was ready to opt out without even thinking about it. Even when it was her little sister looking at her with her doe eyes. “Sorry sis, I’ve got plans with Greg.”

“Oh, ok, fair enough.” Then she leaned closer to her friends, “Girls, by the way, Max is out of bounds to all of you, alright?”

“What!? No way!”

One of them even stepped closer and posed. “Look at me, I am young and beautiful. I totally have a chance.”

“What? Ugh, I said no. I grew up with the guy.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you are related or anything.”

“What the bride says goes. And I said no, this is a rule, you guys stay away from Max.”

“But-”

“Ah-ah,” Jenna shook her head raising a finger into the unhappy faces of all her closest friends, “my word is law for the next seven days or so.”

It wasn’t just a friendly warning like any “my best friends are not allowed to date my big brother” kinda thing. It was a clear waving of all sorts of flags so they all would know that Maxwell was simply off limits. Or, at least, that’s how Stella perceived it.

No one questioned Jenna, even if Stella was ready to bet a leg they weren’t to be trusted. More than that, though, she wanted to make sure no one would have suspected what Jenna had said was actually aimed towards Stella’s best interest. None of the girls surrounding them seemed to catch what hid between the lines of her sister’s words though. But it was more than enough for Stella not to miss it.

Maxwell was off limits for anyone but Stella herself. And, at the same time, ironically, they were something that could never be.

She was so used to that thought to be able to ignore completely the ache carving deeply through her chest. Stella longed for something she had forbidden herself to desire or love for so long that she managed to become immune to it. Or at least, pretending that was the case came very easy.

“C’mon guys,” Stella started, hinting at the door, “why don’t we get this thing started? Let’s order a bottle of champagne as we enjoy my sister giving us a runway show, my treat.”

All the girls ecstatically howled, finally getting back on track and on with the plan.

Stella sat on a small booth in the corner of the spacious changing room. From the other side of the thick curtain, she could hear her sister’s friends giggling away as they waited to be shown Jenna's dresses drinking champagne, whereas she had the privilege of the exclusive.

"So," Jenna started hopping out of her clothes. "How’s things?” She distractedly stood in front of the mirror, checking herself out in her white lingerie, before starting to fix her hair. “We never get the chance to chat now you’re a big shot criminal lawyer!”

Stella didn’t miss the look her sister sent her through the mirror. She knew her sister didn’t mean it that way, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty. Had she been absent or distant? She sure hoped not.

"There's not much to say, you know? My life is pretty boring."

Jenna chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "You live in the Upper West Side and are basically a millionaire.”

Stella huffed, “I am not a millionaire,”

Jenna ignored her completely, “The other week you posted a story about casually being at a Valentino runway afterparty. And before then it was what? Some exclusive Broadway premiere? And your best friend is one of the most acclaimed wrestlers in the world." She paused briefly, a smile curling her lips, "You know what was the top of my week? Today is the top of my week. Tell me again how boring your life is?"

“Today is a pretty special day!” Stella tried her best to appear as convincing as she could even though she knew exactly what her sister was trying to say. “Some would say you’re going to take the most important decision of your life in this room.”

Jenna’s silence and the look she sent Stella through the mirror were enough of an answer. “C’mon sis, give me something! Tell me how exciting New York is!” She was changing over her earnings to a pair made of pearls and fine diamonds that matched the pins keeping her hair up. Stella assumed that was the look she would have had for the ceremony next Saturday.

A soft smile popped on Stella’s lips. “OK, first of all, I need you to know all those things you listed do not happen to me naturally. In a hundred per cent of the cases, if something out of the ordinary happens, it’s Max creating situations.” The silent look Jenna sent her through the mirror, accompanied by a little smartass smirk, was unbearable. It slid right under her skin and made her feel seen. She wasn’t stupid, she knew exactly what her sister was thinking.

Maxwell and she weren’t dating. Never had. And yet they were so used to going out together and seeing each other all the time. It wasn’t news how Max liked to spoil her either with things or experiences, more than he would do with a partner. Out of the ordinary for people who were supposed to be only friends. It had been the particular reason for a fracture in many relationships both Max and her had. But that’s just how things were between them and never once they considered their behaviour wrong. It was everyone else around them who had a problem with it being wrong.

And still, even when all was so obvious and she was fighting to make it seem as normal as possible, Stella still felt so uncomfortable she needed to change position on her booth and hide behind her champagne flute. “And anyways,” Stella cleared her voice doing her best to deflect the attention, “New York is only an hour away it’s not like you never go.”

“Oh? So, I shall come visit next week.” Jenna’s usual bubbly energy washed over her. She smiled to herself in the mirror, nodding like her decision had been already taken.

“What? Before Thursday?”

“Yeah!”

“Thursday the day we are all going to meet up for a long weekend of activities and celebrations for your wedding.” Stella was sarcastically pretending to be extremely ecstatic about it all.

Only thinking about spending three-something full days in Plainview, in direct contact with her family made her want to puke. Though Stella couldn’t back off. She would have never left her sister alone among those people.

She didn’t even want to know how much her sister had to fight against their parents to get Stella invited, which was exactly the reason why she would have never said no. Even for stupid stuff like the Thursday morning meeting brunch, or the Friday afternoon tea for the ladies and golf session for the boys.

Still, worth it to make her sister happy.

“Yes!” Jenna repeated chuckling.

“And then we are going to the big city for your bachelorette party on Friday night, right?” Stella pointed at her ironically as the two exchanged a look through the mirror.

“Yeah, dummy,” Jenna threw her arms to her sides, “what if I want to see you alone before I get married?”

“Ok, fine!” Stella gave up, “just tell me when you are free, and we’ll organise a dinner date or something.”

“You tell me! You are the busy one,”

“Right,” Stella pretended to look at her phone pushing out a posh tone, “my secretary will get back to you.” They both giggled.

Once Jenna had done fixing herself, she approached the curtain, hiding behind the corner. “I’m ready,” she hinted to the outside, to which point a woman entered the changing room carrying a rack full of filled-up dresscases.

“Hello to you darlings,” she didn’t sound from those parts. Her accent was still warm and charming. “My name is Sophia and I’ll be helping you today.”

Stella welcomed her with a polite smile, as they both watched her placing the dresses in the back of the room and then proceed to close the curtain.

“So,” she turned towards Jenna with a big smile on her red-tinted lips, “are you ready to see them?”

Jenna squeaked and nodded, barely containing her excitement and then they proceeded to start the fitting session.

“Ok, let’s continue our chat,” Jenna started while Sophia helped her get into the first dress, which was a typical princess-like dress with a wide skirt and a tighter corset that had about a thousand buttons on the back. “You don’t mind, right, if we talk? I never get to see my sister,” she wondered looking back at Sophia.

“Not at all, miss. You pretend I’m not here.”

Jenna smiled proudly, looking back at Stella. “Tell me about this new boy you’ve been seeing.”

“Ah, Greg,” the unenthusiastic sigh that left her chest should have been enough of a hint to what she thought about him.

You little whore. Those words still echoed in her ears, both making her blood roar and letting her feel more detached than ever.

She hadn’t fought him as much as he deserved for what he had said. Not only that. He deserved to be annihilated and surely didn’t deserve to receive any of her attention further on. But Stella brushed it off like it was nothing.

Come Sunday evening, just after her sister's wedding, Greg would have become nobody to her. She just needed to hold on until then.

Was it pathetic for her to think she rather have spent that absurdly long weekend next to a man she despised, than doing it alone?

“He’s ok I guess; you know? We are still very new.”

“What?” Jenna dropped her arms, sending her sister an inquisitive look, “Stella! Where are the fireworks and butterflies? That is not a suitable reaction! I don’t want to know this new guy you are seeing makes you feel so miserable!”

“What!? It’s not like that! I’m just getting used to things.”

“You should be over the moon already, boo.” Jenna started and the way she studied her sister’s features made Stella feel so uncomfortable in her own skin. “If that’s not the case why losing time?”

Stella choked.

She had decided. Why would she lose any time anymore? After Greg, she would have stayed on her own. To recover. To maybe put her priorities in order. To maybe get a long-ass vacation away from everyone and anyone. Maybe even Max.

She shrugged. “It is what it is. He’s a good guy.” She lied, only because she couldn’t phantom anything else to say that would explain why she decided to stay with a man that made her feel nothing.

“What does Max think about the guy, then?”

As soon as his name was mentioned a smile curled on Stella’s lips even before she could think about it. And Jenna didn’t miss it either. “He doesn’t like him,” Stella chuckled, shaking her head, “But then again, he never does.”

“There!” Jenna pointed at her, “That sweetness and warmth, the way your eyes tenderly moved away as you thought about Max, that should be how you feel for Greg!”

Stella knew Jenna didn’t mean to be judgmental. And probably wasn’t. But she still felt like she was completely exposed and had to justify herself. She felt like she had to pull her big lawyer pants and defend herself in front of the toughest jury ever.

Instead, only a tired sigh left her chest, “Jenna don’t start.”

“Why? Am I wrong? When are you two going to-”

“I said don’t start.” Stella shot her sister with a dangerous look. She didn’t want to be harsh but was too tired to deal with anything her sister had to say. “I don’t need your opinion on this, OK? I am with Greg. He’s going to be with me at the wedding and we are all going to be very happy. Understood?”

“I just don’t get why you would sabotage your own happiness,” Jenna ignored Stella’s warning look, “You clearly don’t like this Greg guy. Not as much as you like Max anyways.”

Stella downed her champagne, looking away. “Max and I are friends.”

“Sure you are.”

“Please, Jenna, I am asking you nicely, drop it, ok?”

The longer Jenna looked at her in the eye, trying to find the answer to her words into her eyes, the more Stella felt the need to put distance between them.

Running away from that entire conversation seemed so sweet. Maybe she could have run away from her life entirely. Maybe then questions and assumptions and all the reasons why her life was unfulfilled would have stopped getting her.

Sophia tapped on Jenna’s shoulder softly, “You are ready to go miss,” the woman pointed at the mirror so that Jenna could look at herself.

Just then, Stella's attention dropped on her dress.

She forgot about their conversation as soon as she realised her sister was, in fact, getting married. She wasn't a kid anymore.

A tender smile appeared on Stella's lips as she got up and walked closer to Jenna. "You look stunning,"

Jenna looked at herself in the mirror, running her hands on the big skirt of her dress, smiling at Stella through the reflection. "This was my favourite last time. It just needed to be fitted."

"I think you look gorgeous in it."

Jenna smiled and then rolled an arm around Stella, dragging her into a small hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

Stella leaned her head on her sister's shoulder, sighing. "I know. I wish you were wrong." Sadness clutched over her chest, but Stella was quick to silence it coldly. She could have pretended everything was fine and Jenna was, in fact, wrong, for a bit longer.

Max didn't make her happy. Not that way. She didn't need him. Everything was fine as it was.

"But please, let's not talk about it anymore."

"Ok,"

Stella looked up and they both smiled at each other, holding hands.

If there was someone she couldn't lie to, it was Jenna. She had grown to see how close she always was with Max, and it wasn't the first time such a conversation had popped up. But that didn't mean that Stella was ready to face any of it. Not now nor ever.

“Now, let’s show this dress to your girls.” Stella smiled, “They are going to lose their shit I tell you.”

Before anything could be done, Jenna pulled her in a hug. At first, Stella felt uncomfortable, hoping not to rumple her sister’s dress, but she only needed a second to relax against Jenna and hug her back with more intent.

And then their moment was shattered.

The curtain was abruptly opened as someone invaded the space in the fitting room.

“Ma’am,” Sophia moved immediately, trying to stop the invader. “This changing room is taken, ma’am, perhaps I could redirect you,”

“Please,” the woman who entered the changing room raised a hand into Sophia’s face with pure disdain. No care or politeness was offered. “I am her mother.”

Hers. Not theirs.

Before anyone could say anything, Jenna automatically moved in front of Stella, trying to deflect the attention. “Mom, I thought you wouldn’t be able to make it today!”

“Why? Disappointed?” The disgusted look she sent in response wasn’t directed to Jenna, obviously. “And you, shame you made it.”

The smile Stella reserved for her mother was detached. “Same to you, mother.” Calling that wasn’t at all out of affection. It wasn’t even because the woman standing in front of her was the one who gave birth to her. Stella did it out of spite knowing her mother hated her to call her in a way that would make them appear related.

The woman twitched. “You didn’t have anything better to do?”

“I wouldn’t have missed this moment for the world.”

“We’ll see,” She whipped out a sharp, cruel smile. Her mother's soft threat sounded as poisonous as ever.

If Stella had to endure being scrutinised under her mother’s cold gaze a minute longer, she felt like she would have screamed. She felt uncomfortable under her own skin like she needed to hide and fight at the same time. Unable to pick which. Unable to move. It had been not even five minutes, and she already needed a hot shower to get rid of the slimy sensation of all her childhood traumas being triggered.

She hated being there. She hated having to remember what it meant to be part of that family and where she came from. All the abuse. All the manipulation. All the attempts to fit her in a box too small for her spirit. And all her desperate fighting. But then, Stella looked over to her sister and remembered why it was worth it.

Jenna offered a peaceful, soft smile, mouthing sorry towards her, to which Stella quickly shook her head, trying to alleviate her guilt.

She could only hope this dress she picked would be the one.

“You look so beautiful,” Stella started, placing a hand on her sister’s shoulder, unafraid to show her affection to her even in front of her mother.

“I think the dress could be improved,” the woman started, sending Jenna a cold look as she studied her figure, “you should have got on that diet that I’ve suggested to lose a bit of weight.”

“Mother,” the gentleness Jenna had for her mother surprised Stella. If it had been her on the opposite side of that conversation, she would have bit her mother’s head off. “I won’t starve myself, plus now there’s nothing we can do, this is my size.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, honey” fake smile, “it looks really pretty, just not on you. I am wondering if maybe another one could-”

“It isn’t you getting married, Mother,” Stella snapped, “would you mind letting Jenna choose the dress that makes her happy the most?”

“Sometimes happiness is only a childish hollow hope. Duty, that is the real thing.”

“And you would know so much about duty, wouldn’t you, mother?”

“Stop it,” Jenna posed herself in between the two women, “both of you. I can’t stand this.”

Stella really wanted to be the bigger person. She really wanted to drop it and be able to rise above everything for her sister’s sake and yet there was something in Jenna’s behaviour that suddenly slashed through her. Hurt exploded through Stella’s chest and trying to keep it inside and controlled seemed impossible.

Maybe it was selfish of her, but Stella was suddenly angry at her sister. Why wouldn’t she ever pick her side, for once? Why would she hover in the middle between her and their parents without ever picking a side? And hers was the only right side since the ways she had been hurt. Why was that not a factor important enough for Jenna to just send their mother away in order to maintain her sister's well-being?

“You know what?” Stella started, shaking her head, “I will go.”

Jenna turned towards her. “Stella, no, please,”

“Let her go. It’s what she does best, after all.”

Stella rolled her eyes to the ceiling but didn’t grace her mother with a reply. She didn’t deserve it. Instead, she reached to grab one of Jenna’s hands, giving her a shake. “I am sorry. Truly. I will call you, ok? We’ll organise for next week, ok?”

“Stella, please stay.”

She was deaf to her sister’s plea. It was running away or risking having a crisis. And she had too many plates spinning at the moment to risk falling into a bad place.

Stella didn’t even know how she was supposed to survive an entire weekend around those people if five minutes had proven to be her max.

“Can’t.” Stella shrugged, “Sorry sis.”

Before she could dash, Jenna dragged her into a hug that Stella couldn’t refuse, even if Jenna herself was someone she wanted to run away from at the moment.

“But you look amazing.” Stella made sure to repeat the compliment to her sister, just to boost her confidence, God knew she needed it. “This is the one, trust me. Don’t listen to Mother.”

Jenna held her for a moment longer, before letting her go. “Call me later, ok?”

“Will do.”

Stella grabbed her bag and then faced her mother, who was standing right by the door. Behind them, in the central room, Stella could clearly see Jenna’s friends focusing on what was happening, trying to listen in.

She coldly looked back up at her mother, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to let me pass or are you trying to trap me in here?”

“You know that one day you won’t be able to run away anymore?”

“Why, do you actually want my company, Mother?” Stella raised her chin proudly, “Let me go and enjoy spending some time with your daughter.” Stella smiled sharply, “I can only hope one day she will realise what a monster you are. Then she will leave too.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, aren’t you quite done with the theatrics?”

“I’ll be done when you let me go,”

Her mother sighed and then moved to the side, crossing her arms to her chest. “Fine, keep avoiding your problems, Stella. But you can’t deny we are your family forever.”

Stella froze. A shiver crossed her back. She knew her mother didn’t mean any of it. Her only purpose was to kick her off the edge and send her spinning out of control.

“You haven’t been my family for a long time, mother.”

Stella sent a polite nod towards Sophia, who was still standing in the room. Good God, poor woman, Stella didn’t even want to know how horrible her mother would have been with her as soon as she was unleashed. And then she turned one last time towards Jenna, sending one last look over to her sister, a sad smile popped on her lips, “I love you, sis, I’ll see you later.”

[majesticwren]

fallingforyou (MJF x OFC)

following this post this concept is now a fic, sorry not sorry. I'm struggling trust me. (help me)

Trigger Warning/s: slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, depiction of toxic relationships, intimacy and commitment problems, childhood traumas, jealousy, possessiveness, hints of physical and verbal abuse, bullying, hints of anti-semitism, everyone is a walking red flag, angst, fluff, smut.

Masterlist Playlist

Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Chapter 1.

Seventeen Years Ago

At only eleven, Stella wasn’t a stranger to walking herself home from school and she already knew what it meant to pick the safest route and be weary of dangerous-looking alleys.

It happened often that she would decide to walk home alone after school. She liked the time she could spend alone, lost in her own thoughts, experiencing the world being no one.

It wasn’t because she despised the bus – well, she did a bit, just like any unpopular, weird kid who would be picked on. Nor it was because of her parents’ neglect. Actually, she had her own personal car and a designated driver taking her to and from school every day. But the fact was simple, she didn’t like that privilege, nor anything about the life she had and the way she was brought up.

Plus, running away gave her an adrenaline rush like no other and she was already addicted to it even when she was so young, and because she was so young, she didn’t care about the consequences.

It was then, in a late September afternoon, as she walked across the main street, that she felt something was out of place.

Just around the corner, into an alley that led to the back of one of the known quirky shops on one side and a bakery on the other, in the heart of town, she saw an abandoned, ripped-open blue backpack. A couple of books and a few sheets of paper were scattered all over the black, dirty pavement.

She could have kept walking. She should have, so it had been taught to her, to be detached and doubtful of anything she didn’t know or understand. She could so clearly hear her mother’s words echo in her mind.

But her curiosity won over her better judgement.

She looked around, to make sure nothing suspicious was happening anywhere else and then, once her surroundings were clear, she moved on tiptoes, as quiet as a cat, getting through the alley.

Inspecting the crime scene, she noticed a couple of broken pencils and ripped pieces of paper bearing the notes of what looked so clearly the messy handwriting of a young boy. And then she heard the noises. Suffocated sobs of one were overpowered by the aggressive groans and laughter of a group, mixed with other noises that sounded like feet dragging on the tarmac and irregular thuds.

Turning slowly to face the end of the alley, her curiosity won over her once more. Her heart was pounding in her chest and the familiar fizz of adrenaline burning through her veins made it impossible for her to backtrack.

Stella lowered herself and, siding a bin, she peaked into the small, deserted area in the back of the shop. There was a group of boys, they seemed older than her and they were kicking something. At first, she thought it was a garbage bag, only after she realised it was another boy.

“Look how the Jew cries,” laughed one of the boys, kicking the one curled up on the ground even harder, “he sure squeals like a pig.” His friends laughed cruelly following his example, calling the boy a pig. No one seemed willing to stop any time soon.

Stella was witnessing something horrendous and scary. Something dark and hateful that she would have never thought of knowing, and yet, even despite being shaking in her boots, she didn’t let her fear make her become indifferent.

She was only eleven and yet she knew already to be a fighter.

She stood up straight, her hand closing around a wooden plank left in the corner by a broken crate. Now branding a weapon, she charged the boys. She felt unafraid and free.

Stella hit the biggest one in the back once, “Stupid nazis,” she hissed in pure spite, not at all comprehending the full meaning of her own words. She hit the boy twice, and then she quickly turned towards the one who tried to stop her and hit him in the stomach.

As the group broke off their assault on the young boy, she stepped over him in a protective pose, ready to attack the moment one of the others got too close to her again.

“The Jew has a girlfriend!” They tried to scorn them, laughing like idiots would to a joke that didn’t make sense nor was funny.

“I will make you bleed,” she hissed, pointing her weapon towards them. Not that she knew what it meant but she had seen it in the movies.

That made them backtrack.

The biggest, clearly the leader of the group, pointed a finger at her. “You’ll regret crossing me. You better hope we won’t find you alone. And you, Jew,” he spat on the ground, “we won’t forget this,” he mocked the oink noise of a pig, “We’ll get you.”

She didn’t lower her weapon or her proud gaze until the group of bullies ran off.

Once alone, she finally moved, looking down. The boy on the ground stayed curled up in a ball, shaking but quiet. Her heart ached. “Hey,” even despite the soft tone of her voice, he still flinched. Stella didn’t let that persuade her to try her best to help the boy, “They’ve left, you are safe now.”

“S-safe?” He finally mumbled, “You must be joking.” He laughed nervously, “They’ll come back.” He got up from the ground doing his best to brush the dirt off his clothes. His hands were shaky. “Tomorrow they’ll catch me and they’ll hurt me more. They’ll hang me to a pole.”

“Better not be alone then.” She still smiled at him, offering him a friendly hand.

She meant it. A promise that would be true from that day onwards, even when both the kids couldn’t know the consequences of their choices made that day.

“I’m Stella.”

“Maxwell.”

Present Day

Stella sat on a bench in Central Park, just by the Bow Bridge. Her gaze crossed the dark lake and over, to the colourful spectacle of the yellow and orange leaves burning bright for her on the other side of the bridge in that grey day.

There was truly nothing like New York in the Fall and she loved to soak it up entirely. The weather getting crisp and the scenery changing. Thrifting clothes, buying used books, and abusing an insane amount of pumpkin spice lattes, candles, sweet cakes, and anything that went with that flavour made her happy. Watching warm and fuzzy old rom-coms, cosying up on the sofa. It was like the line of one of her favourites “Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies”. And Halloween. Was there truly anything else to say? Fall was her favourite season and there was nowhere in the entire world where it could be any prettier.

Her attention had drifted away for a while, as she enjoyed her time alone.

Stella scrunched the paper napkin she held in her hands and threw it in the salad box she just finished and then, she took one last coffee sip before starting to gather her things. However a moment before getting up from the bench, she was distracted by her phone ringing.

“Hello?” She answered distractedly.

“You should really post that selfie you just sent me on Instagram.”

A soft, warm smile spread on her lips as soon as she recognised that familiar voice. “Shall I now, Friedman?” Stella leaned back against the bench, immediately dropping all her plans only to chat with him. “And you called me just to say that?”

“Well, I texted, but you weren’t replying.”

“You are making it sound like a crime, Maxwell.” She chuckled, shaking her head.

“It is a crime! Post it. You look like that nineties hottie that did shit loads of romantic comedies. It’s a crime not sharing it.”

“You gotta be more specific here. C’mon, I want to get the entire compliment,”

“Ok, hold on,” he was quiet for a moment, before gasping victorious. “Meg Ryan! There she is. You look like her.”

Stella gasped, “I was just thinking about her a moment ago!”

“See?”

“I don’t look like Meg Ryan! You are ridiculous!” She giggled shaking her head.

“I say you do. I know a thing or two about hot babes.”

Stella rolled her eyes, gently shaking her head. “Thank you, you know what? I’ll take it, I need it today.”

“Oh yeah? Bad day?”

“Not yet. I’m going to get on my way to drive down to Long Island in a minute.”

“Meeting your sister, right?”

“Yeah-” Stella released a soft, tired sigh. “Don’t get me wrong I want to see Jenna, it’s just-”

“Yeah,” somehow the gentleness of his tone made it sound like he was so much closer to her, instead of on the other line of a phone call. Oh, how she wished it. “Family time. I understand.”

“What about you?” She wondered trying to distract herself. She surely didn’t want to think about her family. “How’s Philly? What are you doing?”

“Just arrived. I’m going to get myself all pretty for my interview.”

Stella smiled, “That won’t take long then.”

“Oh, stop it. You know how I get with compliments,” he chuckled. “By the way, I like the new haircut, it suits you.”

Stella smiled, trying to hide her cheeks blushing as if Max stood right in front of her. “Yeah, you think?”

“Do I ever lie?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, fair enough,” he paused, “But I’m not lying to you.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, to the more pressing matter, how is it that you’re all alone? Weren’t you supposed to meet that loser?”

“Max please, play nice.” And yet, even despite her best efforts, the spite in his voice still made her heart flatter. She didn’t want to, but a selfish smile popped on her lips.

Max never liked any of her partners, and she dreaded the moment that it would change.

She was, in fact, supposed to meet for a quick lunch date with the new guy she had been seeing for the past few weeks, but it turned out he was late. Shame that she got to enjoy having some time to herself. Which, Stella thought, suited her better than the alternative.

She liked being alone. When she was alone, she felt free.

Maybe she should have started to consider the idea of being on her own for a while since her dating life was just miserable. She wondered why she did that to herself. It was always her fault, it’s not like she could be upset at her luck or the heavens, she was quite literally the problem. She would meet someone new, date for a few weeks, and quickly realise she wasn’t interested enough – or she would choose a guy who was as far as possible from her type on purpose, and it would always consequentially end up badly.

“Greg’s late,” she explained, “but I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do. I don’t like to know you’re alone.”

“Max, I’m ok, I promise.”

“That lack of disappointment and annoyance surprises me. You should be kicking off and complaining when it’s me that makes you wait-”

“You never do.”

“But, if I did, I wouldn’t hear the end of it,” he paused shortly, and she could picture him so well, in front of her, trying to read through her words, “You didn’t want to see him, did you?”

She huffed, there was nothing she could hide from him, ever. Unless it was something Max didn’t want to see. “Not entirely.” She cleared her voice, “we argued.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t news even if they started dating only a few weeks ago. It already happened enough times she knew there was nothing much to salvage in that situationship. And yet, it wasn’t time to break up with him.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.” There weren’t words that could explain in detail how Greg just wasn’t the man for her. And the fact that she knew it was the problem. Yet she chose to stick with him because she liked to argue. It made her feel something. But not about Greg.

A tranquil silence fell between her and Max as they both just took a moment to enjoy each other company. It was easy to imagine he was sitting just next to her with an arm stretched over her shoulders enjoying the same view she was seeing.

“Stella!”

She gasped and her fantasy shattered as soon as she recognised being called from a short distance. Turning slowly, she saw Greg approaching her and a sad sigh left her chest. She didn’t want to spend time with him. Not really. She wanted to spend some time with the man on the other side of the phone. Though as soon as she realised the kind of thought she just had, Stella stuffed it away, deep inside her chest. “Hold on, Max.” She pushed out a smile. “Hi!”

“I am so sorry! I tried to get here as soon as I could.”

“It’s ok, don’t worry so much.”

“I do! You ate alone. Sorry.”

“Yeah, and,” she got up on her feet, “I will need to make a move in a minute.” Stella held her phone to her ear hooking it up with her shoulder and, although she freed her hands only to grab the trash she left behind on the bench, Greg took it as a hint to get close to her and steal an awkward kiss from her.

Nothing. She felt absolutely nothing as their lips brushed. Trapped between the soft grasp of his hands, as he tried desperately to get on an intimate level with her, Stella was just frozen.

He was an attractive enough guy, just not for her.

Greg’s charm did nothing to her. The way he smiled didn’t make her heart flatter. His scent didn’t drive her insane. She barely wanted to have his attention on her. And she found most of the things he had to say uninteresting. They had almost nothing in common. He often judged her interests, and she didn’t even care if he did it in a mean way or not. It didn’t matter. It was better that way. That’s the way she liked her relationships to be, so she could always be in control and keep people as far away as possible.

If there was nothing to like, she wouldn’t risk falling for them, right?

He was exactly the kind of guy her family would have approved of. And in all honesty, she didn’t even know what twisted thought process got her to the decision of giving him a chance when she was aware to hated everything about him just as much as she hated everything about her family and the world they both so clearly came from. Still, incidentally, that was the reason she didn’t let go. Her sister’s wedding was in a week, and she wanted to show up accompanied by someone she could have rubbed proudly in her parents' faces.

She wanted to think Greg didn’t deserve to be used like that and she knew she was supposed to feel horrible – but part of her wasn’t sure he was entirely a good guy. He was a bit of an ass at times. And he didn’t like Maxwell, so her guilt wasn’t at all scratched by her selfishness.

As to confirm her thoughts, Greg softly brushed his fingers on the edges of her freshly cut nineties-style bob. “I know it’s late to say it now, but you should definitely grow your hair back. This does nothing for you.”

Again, he could have told her the sky was grey and her reaction would have been the same.

The annoyed huff that came from the other side of the line, though, did make her feel something. “Prick.” Maxwell hissed. “I swear to God, I’ll fuck him up.” A small shiver crossed her back, as she realised Max was listening and probably wasn’t too happy about any of it.

“Sorry, one second,” she raised a hand in front of Greg’s face as if she was hinting at him to hold and then she took her phone back into her other hand, “Hey, Max, sorry babes, I need to go, Greg is here.”

“Sure thing, kitten. Call me later?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“You look hot. Don’t listen to him.”

“I won’t. Bye?”

“Bye, baby. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

As she hung up, the small smile she had printed on her lips was immediately wiped off by Greg’s expression. “Max?”

“Yeah,” she frowned investigating his crossed expression. “Why?”

“Didn’t you literally see him this morning?”

A sad sigh left her chest. She did, they met for breakfast just before his departure and her hair appointment, and she already missed him so much.

“I did. Is that a problem?”

“I don’t like that guy.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Get over it, Greg.”

As she turned to grab her stuff, Greg grabbed her arm, giving her a strong pull so she would look back at him, “I don’t like that you call another man babe, or that you say you love him.”

Guess how he would lose his mind if only he knew about everything else she shared with Max.

“You are hurting me,” she glared at him, pulling herself off his clutch without much success. Her eyes became dangerous as she lifted her chin proudly. “And I do love him.” It was very important for her to specify it. As if it wasn’t already well known how important Maxwell was to her.

Greg’s expression suddenly became harder than ever. He too sent her a dangerous look, shaking his head. “I do not like sharing. If we go official, you will drop him.”

It was an order.

Funny how the longer she dated him the more similarities she found between him and her family. They too never liked Maxwell, not that anyone ever managed to separate them.

Stella stood there for a moment, at first, she seemed to take his words seriously, but then a soft chuckle crossed her lips, and then it became a full-fledged burst of laughter in his face.

Her behaviour seemed to anger Greg even further, but she ignored it. Stella gave him a strong push, freeing herself from his grasp and, not even giving it too much importance, she proceeded to grab her bag and approached the trashcan so she could throw away the empty containers of her lunch.

“Ok, let’s clear two things,” she began, “first, Maxwell is my family, so I’ll drop you before I could ever drop him. You better get acquainted with it because he will always be part of my life.” She smiled dangerously, “Second, I don’t have time for your jealousy right now. Gotta go to be a bridesmaid.”

Before she could move, Greg grabbed her again, this time his hands clutched around both her shoulders as he squeezed her. “I don’t like your attitude.”

“And I don’t like yours,” Stella knew she was challenging him, and clearly Greg didn’t like to be crossed. But she still did it. She was too proud to worry about the consequences.

One of his hands moved to her throat, where he clutched her strongly enough to take her breath away.

Just then Stella got scared.

"When you'll be mine, I won't let him be between us." He made her lift her face to look at him, "I will train you. You will learn."

“Let me go.” She hissed, but Greg was deaf to her words. When his hold on her became tighter, causing her to start choking, pure adrenaline lashed through her veins, bringing her to act out of pure instinct.

She raised a hand to his face and gave him a strong push. Just when her nails pierced through his skin, Greg finally moved, letting her go.

"You little whore," he began, but by then she had already turned and was walking away, fastening her pace.

"Goodbye, Greg."

[majesticwren]

:')

I said what I said

but I'm a 🤡

there's now 5k on one of my docs backing this entire concept up

I've got a problem

being in love with MJF headcanons:

✨friends to lovers✨ dynamic - may you be aware of it or completely oblivious just as Max is, this thing would be going on from and for forever. slow burning, pining and bittersweet. you'd possibly be childhood friends. the kind of friends that met by chance, maybe during a class assignment or at a b-day party, and just stuck together. but you might as well have met recently, the bond between the two of you would be the same.

you'd be the kind of friends that finish each other sentences as you speak.

you'd order each other food just because you know exactly each other taste.

one of you would message or call at the same time as the other is checking their phone only because you tend to think about the other, or miss them, at the same time.

no one ever wants to play the mr & mrs game with you because you two are annoyingly unbeatable. and you always team up. like always. even when you are with someone else.

you rock at giving each other the best presents. birthdays, christmas/hanukkah, random events, they are perfect every time. there's no competition. if you had been involved with someone else at the time, this particular event had caused problems in the relationship. no partner likes to be outshined by the person who is supposed to be "just a friend".

on this note, in his private life, Max is absolutely terrible at remembering dates, events or even appointments. unless it involves you. not that he had been involved much, but when he had been, something like this would never be easily forgotten or ignored by his partners.

you spend so much time together. like an impossible amount of time. you are so used to it that you move around each other's houses like it's your own. not only that, in each other house you've got a spare toothbrush, phone charger, some clothes and your favourite pillow - just in case. you've got each other spare key and the freedom to drop unattended.

you are so used to spending time together being apart for more than a few days is painful.

and with Maxwell's job happens often.

but you get invited to follow him as often as possible.

you are his number one supporter, of course, always. and you must enjoy wrestling just as much as Max does. you have to be careful saying you've got other favourite wrestlers though, especially if they are Max's colleagues in AEW because he can be jealous.

he is jealous regardless.

never once he liked one of your partners and every time it wouldn't work out he would arrogantly say "I told you so", offering one of his cocky smiles, never realising no relationship ever worked for either of you because you were basically involved with each other.

see the thing is, Max is completely emotionally unavailable. He is totally terrified of getting attached to people, which makes him a prime example of the avoidant type - which makes him a walking red flag.

he stuck with you though.

your friends don't like him. they know your relationship with the guy isn't healthy but trying to get you away from Max is impossible.

his friends, instead, adore you just cause they can tell what you mean to him. but getting him to realise as well is impossible - he's just dumb and blind.

and it goes without saying you are basically part of each other's families.

it's tradition for you to spend the holidays with Max's family and more often than not, whenever there's a family gathering, you are also invited.

he has definitely brought you as his plus one at more than one wedding or bar mitzvah.

ever since you danced to fallingforyou, by the 1975, that has become your song. you both listen to it thinking about each other. but you're just friends.

everyone knows you are completely and desperately in love with each other, but you got so good at pretending you were only friends you had no ears for any of it. both of you.

you'd be the kind of friends that are actually a couple in everything but the sexual aspect of things.

he is that kind of guy. he likes to fuck around without getting involved. that's the way he likes it. every relationship he had has been brief and without strings.

that's the way he feels safe and in control.

you know well about all of his conquests and are extremely good at hiding how much it hurts that his choice, in the end, is never you. you are only friends after all.

he doesn't consider the possibility of being attracted to you. not because he is totally unaware of the fact that deep down he is, but because getting there with you would possibly mean ruining what you have.

as already noted, he is big, dumb and blind.

he'd never admit what he feels for you because the fear of being rejected petrifies him.

and you wouldn't do anything to change it either because of a similar fear. to lose him would mean to lose your sun.

you are the kind of friends that hold hands and cuddles, even in public. Max often has his arm around your shoulders and you, naturally, have your hand in the back pocket of his pants. in crowded places, where sits run low, you sit on his lap with ease and zero embarrassments.

you are even used to kissing each other on the lips. not so regularly to be something you are used to, but it is not uncommon either.

you had never fully made out though, that falls into sexual stuff.

you don't do it often. it's generally more of a goodbye thing you do when you know you won't see each other for a long time - just in case.

it all started as a bet someone had thrown and both of you were so stubborn to prove to be just friends you did, in fact, kiss.

And then you kept doing it. softly though, like keeping a secret.

deep down you both know it means something. it leaves behind an undertone of guilt and desire that you both can't shake.

but you are just friends.

a/n1: these headcanons are g/n and can suit anyone. it is absolutely compatible with mjfxadam cole if you like. because it's so totally canon you can't tell me otherwise but i've decided to focus on mjfxyou in general.

a/n2: i've dreamed about mjf and this dynamic last night and couldn't take it out my fucking mind all day. had to write it down. I can't afford to fall into another fanfic - even when this could totally be one and I am cheeky and I've left out all the best parts - but I also do not have time to throw myself into another project and I'm notorious for struggling finishing fics :')

a/n3: don't ask me what this brainrot is. I do not know. don't hold me accountable. sorry about the typos. as I said my brain is rotting away. bye ✨

[mjfsupremacy]

So I'm thinking of writing a oneshot AU with Max and an OFC/reader based on the irl lowkey enemies to lovers thing I have going on with a over the phone consultant at work because it legit feels straight out of a romance novel. Would anyone read a long distance office AU for MJF?

[darkorderaf]

Omg, that mjf imagine had me so smiley. Can I request a part two with kiss prompt 19 (but they actually get caught by the inner circle)?

Hell yeah you can. I’m so glad you liked that one. ;_; Thank you so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy its sequel! I sat on this one a lot because I got nervous lol but I hope you like it!

Part 1 here!

Pairing: MJF x OFC. Prompt: “If we get caught kissing we’re dead but let’s risk it”. Rating: A spicy T. Warnings/Content: Heavy makeouts. Word Count: 1616.

Tag List (send an ask to be added/removed): @alyhull @beingthelite @simoneinside @sillynilly27

(I don’t own gif; credit to archbishop-of-maxlow!)

Max walked her the rest of the way to the hotel. Through the lobby to the elevator. Right up to the Inner Circle’s penthouse suite and through the door. His hand stayed wound with hers and she wasn’t sure whether to let go. He wasn’t either as they stood together in the open doorway. She turned to face him, tilted her head up to look at him. His tongue prodded the inside of his cheek, a furrow in his brow.

“They’re going to wonder where you are,” she said. She swallowed thickly. “You...You should probably go back.”

“Do you want me to?”

He met her eyes, his low tone laced with sincerity and a little shaky with something else. Not once had she ever heard Maxwell Jacob Friedman sound like that.

“Not really,” she said. Her voice was quiet and he stepped closer to her to hear her. She didn’t want him to leave because what if when he walked away, that was it? Was it a game to him? The thoughts racing through her head were difficult to grapple with, the whirlwind of the night leaving her unsteady on her feet. It was easier with him there and fuck, she didn’t know what to think about that. Subconsciously, her hand tightened around his. “No. I don’t.”

He pushed the door shut behind them and didn’t look away from her once. His fingertips lingered against the wood of the door. Her breath caught in her throat but he didn’t press forward into her. He waited for her to move first and she wondered if his stomach fluttered like hers did. Damn this infuriating man, she thought, as she untangled her hand from his and gently laid her hands against the lapels of his suit jacket.

“You like me?”

It felt like a silly question to ask but she needed to know. His eyes fell to her parted lips and traced back up to her eyes. A slow breath left through Max’s nose and he nodded.

She liked him too, a curious and raw feeling that lingered in her fingertips. He could be a complete bastard, she didn’t question that, but he had her heart racing completely. Rather than putting it to words, she pulled him down to kiss her and he made a sound like relief against her mouth when he slotted his against hers.

The thought crossed her mind that if the Inner Circle walked through that door, they would never hear the end of it. She absolutely wouldn’t. But right then, she didn’t care. The way Max held her against him, kissed her like she hadn’t been kissed in a long time, was worth it.

It wasn’t hard for them to pick back up where they had started in that alleyway. His hands latched onto her hips again and didn’t dare to go any further. She let go of his lapel to grab his hand and guide it to her ass. He huffed against her, a smirk on his face. That nervous, unsure energy of theirs melted in the heat of the moment and she molded herself against him. He guided her away from the door and lifted her up. Even though his grip on her was tight and his mouth insistent against hers, he took extreme care of her as they walked through the suite. He found the kitchen and lifted her up onto the counter, her arms around his neck.

Max’s hands kneaded the muscle of her thighs, her ass. His fingertips skimmed along where the hem of her dress hit mid-thigh. He never dared to slip under. With every move he made, he surprised her. In a good way. He pulled away from her and mouthed against her neck, his tongue a wet heat against her pulse. She sighed and shut her eyes, her fingers in his hair. His hands settled back on her hips, his grip softer. He breathed against her wet skin. There was a smile in his tone.

“Does this mean you like me too?”

She couldn’t help but snort.

“I think so, Friedman.”

He gently nipped at her skin and she hissed. Tightened her grip on his hair. Did he just whine?

“Yes, Max, it does.”

He found her lips again with his and kissed her with a renewed, frantic passion. She met his energy, her calves pulling him against her as much as she could with her on the counter. She undid the first button of his shirt. His fingers slid higher up on her thigh and he looked at her, a question in his eyes that he couldn’t put to words with how hard he was panting. His fingers hit the weight of her phone in her dress pocket and she froze.

“Max,” she said as she dropped her hands and fumbled with her pocket. “Hold on. Let me, shit, let me text Sammy and let him know, so they don’t--”

The door to the suite shut and echoed. Her phone clattered to the floor. Max’s eyes froze on hers and she closed hers with a wince.

“Let Sammy know what?”

Fuck. She couldn’t think and that precious five seconds lost was all Sammy and Ortiz needed to find them in the kitchen. Max’s hands on her waist, his broad torso keeping her a secret for the time being. Ortiz covered Sammy’s eyes and the younger man yelled in protest, his arms flailing. Ortiz spoke first.

“Woah, what the fuck!? What the fuck, Max, you can’t just bring people in here. Where is she? Did you just leave her somewhere, you asshole?”

The warmth in Max’s eyes that was there when he looked at her drained away and cold took its place. The look he got when he was facing someone across the ring. His jaw tightened and she slowly peered from around his shoulder. Locked eyes with Sammy and Ortiz. Sammy blinked at her, eyes comically large. She gave him a tight smile.

Ortiz’s voice went up in pitch like a scandalized mother.

“Is--Is this what you didn’t want to tell us?!”

“I need bleach,” Sammy gasped out. “I need to bleach my fuckin’ eyeballs, dude. Where’s the Everclear? The fuck even...”

Sammy threw his hands to his sides and exited as dramatically as he could. Ortiz lingered, a look of pain on his face. Max leered at the wall behind her before he pulled away to fix the other man with a look that might have destroyed a small planet. She smoothed her dress down.

“We didn’t hear from you so…” Ortiz started. “So, yeah. I’m just going to go back to the bar and drink like I never saw this.”

“That sounds like a good plan, buddy,” Max said, his voice tight. His fists curled at his sides. “Take Guevara with you, huh?”

The suite door crashed open again and she blanched at the sound of a riotous Jericho and Santana. She even heard the low rumble of a laugh she knew to be Wardlow’s.

“Hey, where’s the bubb--What’s going on? Why’s it so quiet?”

Jericho’s words slurred as he blinked at her on the counter and she took that moment to make a hasty exit. Max smothered the nasty look on his face and laughed loudly to draw their attention away from her. Ortiz shot her a wide-eyed look as she grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and vanished down the hallway. Although Max talked and laughed with Jericho, clinked glasses with the boys like he planned to, his eyes kept going towards the door he knew was hers. When they checked out in the morning, he didn’t want that to be where they left it.

He limited how much he drank and kept an eye on when the others tapped out. After he assured Wardlow that he was fine, the big man wandered off and found somewhere to call it a night. Max slipped off his suit jacket and left it on one of the love seats as he approached her door. Guevara was out in the fountain, Jericho was with...Elvis apparently, and the others were snoring elsewhere. Good enough. He knocked quietly against her door and she opened it slowly. While they were acting like idiots, she had showered and slipped on her pajamas. She looked so warm, so comfortable, that he went to her immediately and she pulled him into her.

Whatever they were, whatever it all meant, she didn’t want the weekend to be the last time she saw him. Really saw him. And he saw her. Really saw her. What she wanted to be, what she could be. They kissed slowly, committed the feeling to memory, and she led him back to her bed. He sat back on it heavily and tilted his head up to look at her.

The fear she had when the Inner Circle caught them had left her in the couple hours since they had seen each other and she looked like someone renewed. She didn’t care that Sammy and Ortiz had caught them. Some part of her wanted them to. Max seemed to read that in her expression as she looked down at him, his hands braced by his sides to keep him upright. His chest heaved as, slowly, she set her knees on either side of his hips. His hands settled against her thighs as they looked at each other, the air between them heavy. His breath spread fire along her neck as he nudged his nose against it.

“You’re fucking beautiful.”

Like her, Max sure as shit hoped it wasn’t true what they said about Vegas. He, of all the awful things to feel, hoped she did too.

[darkorderaf]

Prompts 72 and 59 seem like they were made for mjf😭

I completely agree! Apologies for the wait on this. After getting back from my trip, I immediately moved into a new apartment! So it has been a very busy time that's finally starting to wind down. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: MJF x OFC Rating: G. Prompt(s): “How do I even put up with you?” “You’re competitive and so am I, and it’s going to lead to a fight.” Warnings/Content: None! Word Count: 575

(gif is not mine; credit to hotyeehawman)

It had started out with small things. Little things like who could drink their water the fastest or who could jump the farthest. It was during this where she found out that Maxwell Jacob Friedman wasn’t above tearing his suits in order to win nor was she above ruining a pair of her favorite pants just to go the extra distance.

As much of an outright prick and asshole he could be most anywhere else, Maxwell was all laughs and juvenile insults with her. He shot her a smug look as he looked her in the eyes, both of them at eye level. The competition of the hour was who could hold a squat the longest and with the ring unoccupied for the next few hours, that was their chosen battleground. He had suggested it and she couldn’t say no. She scowled back and swiped her arm across her perspiring forehead before extending her arms in front of her again. Maxwell playfully swatted at her fingers.

“Did your knees just pop, grandma? I hope you put batteries in your Life Alert because your ass is going to need it.”

She flipped him off and settled deeper. It burned and her legs shook but damn it, she couldn’t let him win this. She made a point to look like she was just getting comfortable. His face took on that cute, petulant pout and her stomach fluttered. She smiled back and he waved it off with a puff of air before he spoke.

“How do I even put up with you?”

Her smile went crooked into a smirk as she looked over his shoulder. She couldn’t see his eyes but she was sure that there was a devil’s gleam to them as Joey Janela crept down the entrance ramp. Right on time. Maxwell didn’t broadcast it but when he got scared, he could get a little...jumpy. Very few people knew that important detail and she was one of them. Just when she felt herself start to buckle, Joey let out the loudest mix of a hyena laugh and a scream. The look on Max’s face was priceless as the top of his head nearly hit the ceiling of the arena. His ass hit the mat and his eyes burned down the ramp as Joey fled in a streak of neon.

“You son of a bitch! JANELA!”

On shaky legs, she stood and laughed until her stomach hurt. Max’s face and neck flushed red as he frowned at her. She extended a hand to him, a shit-eating and contest-winning grin on her face.

“You need help, grandpa?”

He grabbed her hand but stood up on his own. Max pulled her in close and smirked down at her, his chest rising and falling fast from adrenaline.

“You cheated. You really just used Janela to cheat,” he said matter-of-factly. His hand tightened around hers and his voice lowered a touch. “You’re competitive and so am I, and I tell you what, it’s going to lead to a fight.”

She squared her shoulders back and looked up at him. He was cute when he got serious about the small things but she wouldn’t tell him that. She would never live it down. She squeezed his hand back then let it go to put some distance between them. She made a show of spreading her arms out and gesturing to the ring.

“Whenever you want to ring that bell, Maxwell, I’m game.”