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toiletclown · 6 months ago

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breathless.

spencer agnew x gn!reader

mostly fluff, a little angst.

summary: you've had feelings for your best friend, spencer, almost as long as you have known him. it isn't getting any easier, and you need to tell him soon, whether he feels the same or not. your friends are pushing you, the fans already ship you, and after courtney and shayne's success, you just couldn’t bare to keep lying anymore. to yourself, or to him.

word count: 2028

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It’s been two years since you graduated from Smosh crew member to Smosh cast member. You weren’t the first, and are unlikely to be the last, but it’s still a bit nerve-wracking. You were moved to cast not long after Spencer made his switch to cast, but that was exactly your problem, wasn’t it? When you were both on crew, it was easier. Small smiles, hidden glances, a blush forming under your mask. Once or twice, Brennan had swiveled his camera to the crew to get their reactions and you couldn’t duck fast enough to dodge the shot.

You both shared moments without fear of judgment, knowing everyone at Smosh knew how close you were. Some more than others. But once you were both on camera more often, those moments dwindled to near nothingness. You couldn’t make eyes at him, he couldn’t flirt with you. Plenty of the cast flirted with each other on and off camera, of course, but it was different somehow. The office flirting became private hangout flirting, which then became no flirting at all.

He didn’t get jealous anymore when Amanda or Angela flirted with you, and you did your best not to get jealous when he flirted with Tommy or Shayne. It was like your friendship was entirely platonic again. And while that was all it had ever been – platonic – it hurt a little. It was like something happened overnight, and the flirting wasn’t cool anymore.

The last time something happened before your promotion to cast, Spencer, Angela, and Chanse were doing Who Meme’d It with Shayne, and someone had sent in a meme about you always looking at Spencer. As soon as it popped up, everyone was laughing, and Brennan promptly turned his camera to get your face. You were smart enough to expect it, and you managed to push out a laugh and shrug to the camera. All in good fun, it seemed. But really, it was a little bit upsetting to realize you were so obvious about your affection for Spencer. You thought that you were fairly secretive and weren’t too over the top, but apparently not so much.

“Okay, ‘Y/N pretending they weren’t just staring at Spencer’! Spencer, any thoughts?” Shayne said through giggles.

Spencer made eye contact with you, and you did your best to hold it. “Gotta be honest, Shayne, I wasn’t even aware they stared at me. Guess they’re sneakier than I thought!” Everyone was laughing again, and you joined in. Instead of making a joke about him staring at you, or a joke about you two flirting in your pod, he went with a PR answer. You could barely admit to yourself how bad it had stung. And sure, most people got roasted in Who Meme’d It, especially with the lack of funeral roasts, but it didn’t really feel good to have your private crush on Spencer blasted to not only cast and crew, but whoever ends up watching this video. And his comment was making it seem more one-sided than you liked.

After the laughter settled down, Shayne got back to hosting. “Alright, who meme’d it! Was it Erin Dougal? Courtney? Or Y/N themselves?” You made a silly face when Brennan panned to you, channeling your best mad scientist look. Your face dropped immediately after. No one saw it.

The cast members debated for a second before writing down their answers. It was Courtney across the board. “Alright, so we all think Courtney made this meme. Angela, what makes you think it was Courtney?”

“Shayne, that’s a great question, thank you so much for being here with me today. I said Court because I have seen them having little whisper sessions with Y/N and I simply don’t trust like that!” Angela laughed, a bright smile on her face. She winked at you once the camera had moved away from her face. She was actually your go-to confidant, and you were sure she knew that. She was your best friend, behind Spencer, after all.

After a dramatic pause, it was revealed that Erin Dougal was the one who made the meme. You could have called that from a mile away, but that was because Erin was constantly telling you to ask Spencer out. You shot her down every time, knowing it was safer and easier to suffer in silence with your feelings rather than to possibly fuck everything up with your best friend. Besides, suffering in silence was what you were best at.

And now, a few months later, you were the one in front of the camera for a Who Meme’d It. It was your first time actually competing, although you’ve sent your fair share of memes in. Spencer and Angela were the only two people to continuously guess you correctly, which in the grand scheme of things made the most sense as they were your closest friends at Smosh. However, you were now competing against both of them, and your competitive side didn’t have a concept of “friendship”, unfortunately.

“Okay! Welcome back to Who Meme’d It! Today we have Angela, Y/N, and Spencer competing. And Y/N is quite competitive so let’s hope they still have their best friends after this!” Shayne introduced you all, smiling at you to ease your anxiety.

“Lest we forget what happened when they were on Don’t Win Mario Party and nearly killed me,” Spencer said, turning towards you with his hands folded on the table. His eyes were smiling, but he was trying his best to keep a serious face.

You turned to face him, mirroring his expression and hands. “Lest we forget you deserved that attack because you fucked with my controller mid-lap so that you could get seventh.”

“Okay, are we doing Who Meme’d It or the Newlywed Game?” Angela joked, and you and Spencer returned to your normal positions, excited to play.

After the shoot, Spencer caught up with you in the kitchen. “You got your first Who Meme’d It win, how’s it feel?” You had indeed won, but only by two points. Spencer was right behind you and Angela frankly tanked it this episode. Usually she wasn’t too bad, but perhaps she knew how competitive you were going to be and decided to focus more on having fun instead of winning. Especially considering there was content being made that needed to be entertaining.

“Eh, I feel like my competitiveness isn’t very fun on camera. I’m hoping we don’t have to scrap the ep simply because I was too locked in.” You grabbed some fruit from the fridge and prepared to make your way to a table so you could sit and destress before your next shoot. You weren’t needed on set for over an hour so you were ready to mindlessly doomscroll while you snacked on your peaches.

Spencer chuckled at your comment, which made your heart flutter a bit. Suddenly, you had the urge to touch him. You put your hand on his shoulder, mostly unconsciously, not actively making the decision but simply just doing it. His giggling stopped instantly, and he looked at your hand cryptically, his expression unreadable. All too suddenly, it felt too serious, too personal, so you instantly pivoted. “But at least you didn’t win, right?” You smiled, patting his shoulder and turning to head to your seat.

You were hoping, for the first time ever if you were being honest, that he wouldn’t follow you. Things had been weird between you two for a few weeks now, and you almost wanted some space to deal with the pain of your best friend seeming to lose interest in your friendship. And once again, Erin had submitted a meme that made you a little upset. You knew it was unreasonable to be upset with her, as it was all in good fun and she wasn’t actually trying to hurt your feelings. You should probably try to talk to her about that, since you knew she wouldn’t take your upset personally.

This one was arguably worse than the first one though, because instead of it being at your expense, it was technically at Spencer’s. The meme wasn’t mean in any regard, but it was making fun of Spencer for consistently getting “lost in his thoughts” whenever you were on a shoot together. Of course, Erin alluded to those thoughts being romantic in nature, which earned a few oohs and aahs from the crew and cast alike. You had felt your face get warm and tried to remind yourself you were on camera and it was all in good fun.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Courtney approaching you. “Y/N, Spence! Just the two people I wanted to see. I have a question for you guys.”

Clearly, Spencer had intended on following you, since Courtney had greeted you both. You sighed as quietly as possible, before asking Court if you could sit down before you all got to talking. Your castmates followed you to a table, and you popped a piece of fruit in your mouth. “Okay, what's up?”

“Well, we wanted to do a Guitar Hero stream next week. I know you haven't been on any of the livestreams, so I figured I’d ask if you wanted to be in this one. You don't have to play but if you sit and make commentary I’m sure that'll be enough! But of course you can play if you want to.” Courtney was always so thoughtful, and you made a mental note to thank her for always being so considerate.

“Oh hell yeah, I finally get to show off my guitar skills. It’s been a minute since I’ve played, but if Y/N’s down, I’m down!” Spencer’s eyes lit up. He had been trying to figure out a way to impress you and gauge your reaction before he finally took the leap and asked you on a date.

Everyone had been encouraging him to do so for months at this point, but he still wasn’t so sure about it. Yeah, you blushed whenever he mentioned you on camera and you blushed a lot during the shoot today when Erin’s meme came up. But some part of him felt like that had less to do with reciprocating a crush and more to do with embarrassment.

You thought for a minute, munching on your peach slice. “Sure, that sounds fun. Spencer, maybe you could teach me how to play?”

Spencer broke out in a grin, “Of course I can. Although I’m surprised you’ve never played it before, it’s an iconic franchise.”

Courtney worked out a few more details with the two of you before making their way back to their pod. When she had left, Spencer turned his attention back to you. “Have you seriously never played Guitar Hero before?” He genuinely was having trouble believing that.

Truthfully, you had played before. Many times. And you were actually quite skilled at it. But it’s been quite some time since you picked up and played it, and you knew you would be rusty. Plus, you were mentally hatching a plan. Have Spence “teach” you the game, play extremely badly the whole time, then on stream you can kick his ass on Expert mode. Perfect plan.

“I have not. I might have played once or twice as a kid but I don’t really remember the controls or, like, speed, since I know some of the songs are really fast.”

“Okay, do you wanna come by my place tonight after work? I have a bunch of the Guitar Hero games but I also have Clone Hero which will probably be what we use on the stream anyway.”

Oh, right. Not-so-perfect plan. If you were to be taught, you needed to be taught before the livestream. Which means you had to hang out with Spencer outside of work. You can survive one night alone with him, right? You’ve done it so many times before. Sure, it’s been a few weeks since you guys hung out, and with your increasing feelings for him you were sure to be awkward. But it was Spencer! Your best friend in the whole world! It would be just fine. Right?

#spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #smosh x reader #the way i'm nervous to post this lol if this flops u will not be hearing from me.#richie writes

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bonefall · 4 months ago

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speaking of the erins, you hear kate cary is stepping down?

I did! Honestly, I'll have to be real with you, I have no strong feelings about it.

While I've criticized certain statements of hers in the past (that bit about Tom the Wifebeater was a doozy), I don't know her personally. I also don't even know how much control she had, functionally. I don't feel like I have enough information to have a well-based opinion, here.

What sticks out most to be is the fact that... well, with Kate and Vicky gone, only Cherith remains and we've lost any small window we did have into the writing process.

It's been a long time since we'd just get casual information drops on places like Facebook or authorial chats, but with this, it feels like that era truly is dead. We will never again get another Su Susann's Missing Kits drop, or a letter to a fan that tosses up a name like "Skunkpaw," or the writers sharing their good and bad takes. Or anything else like that.

Dgmw it's understandable, and I can guess why that era ended (probably the Spottedleaf's Heart controversy, and the ukraine windclan thing). WC is charted by an unknown collective team, now, who generally keeps their anonymity well-guarded. It's probably for the best.

So... on the subject of Kate Cary stepping down, I thank her for the work she's done and hope her future pursuits are fulfilling! Without her, WC might not be here today. For all the yowling and growling I do, I wouldn't be putting so much effort into my various projects if I didn't profoundly love the series she helped to form.

#Tbh I try to avoid getting parasocial with the creators of series I enjoy #I Don't Know Her.#I hope she's stepping down because she feels like she's done everything she wanted to #And that writing for this series has been a rewarding thing for her #Like I hope for everyone who works a job #I hope she has a pension and other union related benefits #Kate Cary

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erinwantstowrite · 9 months ago

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Hi Erin! I absolutely adore your fic, Leap of Faith (Catch me if you can). It consumes my thoughts and checking for updates has become a part of my morning routine 😅

I’m not great at drawing or anything, but I did throw together some faux book covers! I hope you like them!

Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful writing, you’re honestly an inspiration because writing 300k words in less than a year is crazy and I aspire to reach that level. 🫡

DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDEEE!??!?!?!?!?!? THESE ARE GORGEOUS???????? "THROW TOGETHER" YOU MEAN CREATE MASTERPIECES???? I'm in SHOCK these are so beautiful!!????? I would 100000000000%%%% use these as real covers!! Please look into becoming a cover artist for authors, these are so so so amazing!! I immediately had to show my people, and they agree!!!

#literally HOW is everyone so TALENTED #i keep getting amazing by y'all #erinwantstowrite #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #leap of faith ao3 #leap of faith catch me if you can #leap of faith #leap of faith (catch me if you can)#leap of faith fanart #leap of faith cover #!!!!#like holy shit!!#these are going on my lock screen!!

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pixiesfz · 10 months ago

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sorry I haven’t been posting much guys I have been MAJOR busy

first meet n.c x reader

plot: how you first met your girlfriend

warning: none

Niamh sighed as she sat down next to Emma, bored out of her mind.

Just one more interview she told herself as she got comfortable in her seat.

She hated interviews with Emma, they always just asked her questions and it left her with nothing to do but just look around.

Plus Jessie had left recently and she was still trying to get used to it.

Sure she still had Z but she’s usually on the other side of the field.

The interview started and Niamh gave her fake smiles to the men and women around her before Emma started off.

She started answering questions about transfers and Sams injury and how it might cost the team but Niamh wasn’t really paying attention.

It wasn’t until you called her name.

“This question is actually for Niamh” you raised your voice whilst Niamh was looking at her microphone, her head snapping up at the sound of her name, only to be met by the most beautiful girl she had ever seen.

“Oh” she said out of realisation that everyone had been looking at her, causing a genuine laugh out of Emma.

“Tik Tok will love this” she joked lightly, gathering a chuckle out of the room as Niamh still looked at you.

She shook her head to shake any thoughts away before she smiled “uhm ask away”

You smiled before asking “How do you feel about the media’s response of the recent departure of a good friend of yours Jessie Fleming?”

Niamh could answer the question in her sleep but with your eyes staring at her she found herself stuttering “I uhm- I find that the media is correct in the way that I uhm- that I will miss one of my very good friends but I wish her the absolute best in Portland and now we share a number so uhm- that’s uhm- good”.

Niamh was blushing bright red by the time she finished her answer, she wasn’t even sure if it made any sense. Emma, next to her was trying hard not to laugh at one of her players and the fact that it was very obvious that she was nervous by you.

“thank you Niamh” you smiled and wrote down in your notepad

“Thank you” Niamh repeated before realising her mistake “I mean you’re welcome” she quickly corrected herself and decided she wanted to swallow herself whole as she saw you laugh.

“I think that’s enough” a man said from the back and Niamh had never been so grateful for that man in her entire life as she got out of her seat quickly and walked out.

Getting the answers you needed you tucked your notebook away and stood up yourself to leave, a small blush on your face as you looked back onto your interaction.

Emma wasn’t wrong when she said that Tik Tok would love the interview as screenshots were taken and Niamh’s nervous answer became popular on many platforms.

And very popular in the changing rooms.

“I have never seen you stutter so much” Guro laughed at her as Erin recreated it “You don’t get it” Niamh responded as she thought back to it.

“Caught lacking” Same yelled from the other end of the room

“I’ve heard enough from Jessie” she said, throwing her head back as she remembered her Canadian friend going through the trouble to make the video into a gif and constantly sending it to her as a meme.

“Did you at least get her number?” Aggie asked, now interested in the conversation

“What?” Niamh said “no I was so embarrassed I went straight home”

Guro dropped her mouth open “You didn’t get her number!”

Niamh winced “no…should I have?”

A loud chorus’s of “yes” followed.

“Oh”

The next time you appeared was after the national break and you had been chosen to interview on the pitch this time for one on one time with the players.

As Chelsea won on their home ground with their opponents having to wear their own socks it was a very lovely stadium, filled with Chelsea blue.

When you walked onto the pitch with a microphone and a camera man behind you Niamh’s mouth dropped.

“You’re catching fly’s Charles” Sam laughed at her friend before she followed her eyesight “who is it?”

“That’s- girl- girl interview”

“Holy shit!” Sam realised, somehow getting her friends horrid sentence “go ask for her number!”

Niamh looked at her friend in horror “no!”

“yes!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Sam laughed at her victory as Niamh groaned “she’s coming over anyway” Sam pointed out and the English player immediately went red.

“Hi, do you mind if we do an interview with the captain?” You asked and Sam nodded “absolutely”. and walked off.

“Nice to now have an actual conversation” you started as your camera man set up “uhm yeah”

You started your interview quickly after as Niamh took her time answering, having to stop herself from just looking at you the entire time which she failed at

When the camera turned off you smiled at Niamh who stood still, fidgeting with her hands as she looked up at you with her blue eyes.

You weren’t an idiot, you had seen Niamh in interviews and she had been a lot less fidgety and a lot more better with her words, and also her Scottish teammate had dm’d you a video of her gushing about a ‘pretty journalist’.

So you blushed before opening your mouth.

“Do you have something you want to ask me?”

#woso #woso soccer #woso community #woso x reader #sam kerr #niamh charles #Niamh Charles x reader #chelsea women x reader #chelsea wfc

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daily-whistlebreeze · 3 months ago

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daily whistlebreeze until whis becomes PoV whisversary part twenty four

Life of a Whis

Four years... Daily Whis has been running for four years now and I genuinely can't thank all of you enough!

I know this endeavor started as a silly thing I wanted to do because I was inspired by daily-squilf, but I never expected this blog to grow so much and become such an important part of my life. Whistlepaw, no. Whistlebreeze has grown so much in the past four years and so have I alongside whis. This blog genuinely means so much to me. It's gotten me through horrendous times and I also got to bring my joy to it too. Whis means so much to me, I draw her all the time in class or when I lack inspiration. I can draw that face with those fluffs anywhere.

And none of this would've happened without your support either. All the loving comments and reactions to my drawings is what kept me motivated to draw for so long, and today you all proved again why Daily Whis couldn't be a solo mission. Thanks to you I still got to do the yearly celebration of posting one drawing per hour every hour ignoring the fact that this post gets 20 drawings technically, I'll share all the separate frames in a reblog. Thank you so much to every single one of you for participating in this, or supporting this blog for the past four years, you are all so incredibly amazing

To celebrate the four years of this blog, I think we need a name change. Whis got her full name, so from now on this blog will be daily-whistlebreeze to match that change. I'm not planning on stopping soon either, I will keep going until the Erins finally cave and make that damned book or the series stops. So now, I hope you all enjoyed the fourth anniversary of Daily-Whistlebreeze, I'll be back tomorrow with another day of Whis and her antics

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dronarryfest · 7 days ago

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Dronarry Fest 2025 | Week Two Roundup

Week two done! Remember to give our wonderful creators love with your kudos and comments ❤️ We'll be back on Monday!

PODFIC

🚲 Bike Dream by @dodgerkedavra | E | @cailynwrites

Draco’s going to learn to ride a bike if it’s the last thing he does.

I’ve been listening to this on my commute to and from work and it’s been delightful! Love your narration and how you voice all the characters. Just beautiful! - @erin-orolin

I’m only on chapter two but your voice is clear and wonderful, and the life and love you have brought to this story are audible. Can’t wait to listen to the rest! ❤️🎉 - @chiquita-3

FIC

🎇 the lonesome crowded west | E | @garagepaperback

A western romance featuring: a magical rodeo, sunsets in Utah, a dragon named Pill-bug, stolen beer and paper plate dinners, pining, Ron Weasley as a barebacking cowboy, a constantly shoe-less Draco Malfoy, and a too-much, two-palms-full sort of love.

this was a little sun kissed masterpiece. how did you even do this? the tension of harry’s want—felt it in every beat. deserts, heat, dragons bucking, FIREWORKS— big gay monuments of desire just making it all so enormous. and an incredible crescendo followed by such a balm of peace and calm. i loved this so much! - @twnkwlf-writes

ohh I loved this, absolute perfection! The tension between them 🫠 and your writing is always so vivid. So good! - @erin-orolin

🍻 One More Round | E | @erin-orolin

Draco last saw Potter three years ago, when he disappeared off to New York with Draco’s crushed heart in hand. Potter’s back—but things in London are different now. Draco and Ron quit the Aurors, opened a pub together, and basically became each other’s new best friend. Draco’s determined to keep his head this time. No falling for Potter’s friendliness, or his tactile nature, and definitely no flirting. Absolutely no sex… honestly.

Love this so much! ❤️ It was just the perfect thing to re-read when my jetlag woke me up at three am lol They're so soft and sweet with each other and you know Ron's and Draco's friendship in this is just one of my absolute favourite things! - @willowingscribe

Aaahhhh 😩 I’ll never get over your fics. Doesn’t matter the pairing, the tropes, the content, I’m always addicted and left amazed. This was so cozy and hot and everyone’s characterizations were stunning. - SweetheartAurora

🖋️ Reach Out And Touch Faith | M | @the_prettiest_w0lf_star

Where did this book come from? Did my mother send this to me? She said before returning to Hogwarts that I should start writing a journal and that it might help me. I don't know how this works exactly and I'm pretty sure I like to do this, but if I don't get it out soon, I'll scream. So here goes nothing.

Aah I loved this!! Such an original way to show the relationship between these three! And it was so fun too, I loved their banter, the intermissions with the letters, AND THAT ENDING WAS PERFECT OMG I was laughing and squealing what a delight, thank you for sharing !! - @galaxostars

oi! this was an absolutely delightful story! I am a sucker for the banter, for the romance of it all, the way that they're very them throughout it - shewritesmaybe

🧖‍♂️ Uncovering the myth | E | @galaxostars

Draco has heard the rumours: Ron is packing one down there. He's obsessed with finding out the truth, Harry never hears the end of it. But will Draco succeed in his investigations? And how?

Oh my god. That… was horny. Horniest fic award and also horny jail for you 😂😂 this was full of hot shenanigans, delicious pining, juicy drama, and an oral fixation kink I hope Draco never kicks. Sheesh! Also shout out to both Harry and Draco sitting on Ron’s thighs. After this fest, I’m going to need that as a Dronarry staple because it’s so good! Amazing writing and storytelling, you’ve absolutely nailed your prompt (pun intended) - @schmem14

This is kind of the best thing I’ve read all year… AND ITS STILL MARCH!! The way you write them is so *chefs kiss* so so in love with all three of them in your writing! May have ignited something in me related to Draco’s fixation… can’t get it out of my mind! Love it so much - princewolfgang

go to the dronarry fest 2025 collection

#dronarry fest #dronarry fest 2025 #week 1 roundup #draco malfoy #ron weasley #harry potter #hp rare pairs #dronarry #dron #drarry

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bluehairedspidey · 8 months ago

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Sprinkles still needs help with his vet bills!

We have currently raised $290 / $2,817 but can still use some more help!

I know not everyone can afford to chip in, but there's a lot of us here on tumblr! If everyone who sees this could donate just $5 or even $1, it would make a huge difference! And if you can't spare any cash right now, reblogging or sharing the GoFundMe elsewhere is always appreciated

Thank you so much to everyone who's donated so far! <3

#animals #cats #mutual aid #gofundme #blog

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skipper1331 · 2 years ago

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Hard to get // Guro Reiten

Guro had a massive crush on you. The moment she saw you, she knew. It was the way you smiled that made her heart race, the sound of your laugh that made her stomach flip, the kindness you shared.

The two of you went on a few dates already but nothing more than that happened. After every date Guro wouldn‘t answer your messages for at least two days. It annoyed you. She was a lovely girl and going out with her was amazing, she treated you right but her behaviour afterwards? You didn‘t like it at all. It sent mixed signals. Did she want you or not?

Unknown to you Sam Kerr and Erin Cuthbert, her Chelsea teammates, told her to act tough, hard to get. She didn‘t know why but her experience with dating someone wasn‘t the greatest so she just listened and did so. It was a strategy that should make her more interesting, more likable for you.

But you had enough. You wanted to know if it was something serious because in your eyes it was. So you made up a plan. Maybe it was unnecessary, maybe even childish but two can play a game.

Guro 💞

I‘ll pick you up at six;)

That was it. Guro always sent messages like that and it was perfect for your plan. She didn‘t respond to your previous message so you didn‘t respond to hers.

Exactly at 6 pm, your door bell rang. You made yourself pretty, dressed up. You had the perfect date outfit but just not for her. Opening the door, you saw the norse standing there with a smile "Hey, pretty lady" she grinned as she shamlessly checked you out. You tried to hide it but your cheeks were burning red. Anyways, "You have 30 seconds to apologize" you stated, looking at your watch.

"What for?"

"I‘m not stupid, darling", you smiled, secretly enjoying the way 'darling' rolled over the tip of your tongue. "I know you‘re playing hard to get" her whole face fell. "I- i… you-.. um" she was a stuttering mess "ding ding ding, 30 seconds are over" you stepped beside her and started walking towards the road where a woman was waiting at her car. The woman smiled brightly the same as you did. Guro could only watch. The winger had to watch you hug someone else all dressed up while she was standing at your door like a lost puppy.

As soon as you were out of sight (driving away with the woman) Guro texted her friends.

Guro

you shitheads.

Sam

Erin

When Guro didn‘t reply Sam started a group call "you okay?" Erin started "aren‘t you supposed to be on a date?" Sam chipped in. "Yes but thanks to you guys she just drove away with another woman" they heard how the norse inhaled sharply "play hard to get. Don‘t reply to her" she mimicked their voices. "Wanna start from the beginning?" and that‘s what she did. She told them everything from the moment the door was opened "Damn" - "Wow"

"We need to fix this"

The next day, Guro was standing in front of your house with her hands full of flowers. She stood in front of the door for about 10 minutes before she finally rang the bell. She felt many things; excitement, tension, nervousness. "Hello?" You weren't expecting anyone when you opened the door, thinking it was the mail man. "H-hi, my pretty lady" the winger said shyly. "Can we talk?" you stepped aside, giving her the hint that she can step into your home. As she went in, she looked around. She‘s never been in your home before and was amazed. It was so much like you. "These are for you" smiling, she gave you the flowers. You nodded as a thank you. "I‘m sorry.. for being an ass" she began as you searched for a vase. "I‘ve never done something like- like us. Some friends told me to play hard to get. Not reply to your texts and that stuff." you hummed as responds. "I like you," she looked down, not meeting your eyes "and if you let me, i‘ll reply to every text from you as soon as i can. I’ll show you that i want you"

When you didn‘t answer, she had her answer. Her heart hurt as she realized she messed up being with you. "You like that woman, don‘t you?"

"I do"

Peng, ouch that hurt.

You took a step towards her, cupping her cheeks "but as a sister because she is" within a second the wingers head snapped up "that was your sister?"

"Yes" you grinned, playing with her baby hair which made her melt. "Thank God"

"I like you, too"

While her hands went around your waist she looked deeply in your eyes. You always got lost in the beauty of her orbs.

And just like that the world around stopped. It was only the two of you. Looking down at her lips you asked for consent. You wanted to kiss her since the first date but it was never the right time. Well, maybe it was - you couldn’t tell because you also were inexperienced. As an answer she pressed her lips against yours. The kiss wasn‘t rushed, it was sweet and lovely, almost innocent.

Later that evening, she sent a quick text in the group chat.

Guro

Got the girl.

—————————

#guro reiten #woso x reader #woso fanfics #chelsea wfc #woso #guro reiten x reader #sam kerr #erin cuthbert #chelsea x reader #norwnt x reader #norwnt

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something-tofightfor · 10 months ago

Text

On Deck Part 1: Hot Corner

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Female Reader Baseball AU

Word Count: 8,117

Rating: M (language, general adult thoughts, etc.)

Summary: Taking your best friend's little brother to a minor leage game to see his favorite player just might lead to a lot of changes in your life.

And you're ready.

Author’s notes:

This story has been in progress for more than two years. I've written about Baseball Jack many times before ... but only the "after". It's time to see how - and where - it all began.

(On Deck universe masterlist for all the extras!)

Thank you to everyone that convinced me to work on this and to keep this pairing going / to flesh them out more. I have had so much fun with this because I have such a love for the MLB (and the men who play in the league) - and I'm so excited to share it.

While there are a lot of baseball references within this story, you only need to know the basics to enjoy it and understand them - we're not getting overrly technical here.

As always, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out. I hope you enjoy this as much as I am.

Third base is often called the ‘hot corner’ due to the prevalence of right handed hitters - and subsequent on-field action - in the league. The third baseman is typically the infield position player closest to the batter, so to excel in this position, players need to display quick reaction times and exceptional hand-eye coordination.

“We’re going to be late.” He stood next to you, arms crossed over his chest. “We still have to walk to the stadium.”

“Caleb.” You sighed, closing and then locking the car door before sticking your keys into the small bag you’d bought specifically for games. “We’re here. We’re parked. The stadium is right there.” Pointing with one finger, you raised a brow and grinned. “The parking lot is only half full, and we’ve already got seats, so -”

“Yeah, but we’re going to miss warm ups and the pregame.” He rolled his eyes, turning away from you and heading toward the ballpark. “And those are the best parts.”

You agreed, but for a very different reason than the twelve year old you were with.

You’d been to games with him and Erin before. You and your friend sat a few rows back while the pre-teen hurried down to field level, a baseball and a pen clutched in one hand, hoping to meet at least one of the players after they’d finished warming up and stretching.

From your vantage point, the two of you had been free to whisper about the players - pointing out the way their uniforms fit, discussing whether or not their asses were in mid-season form yet, or even commenting on the stretches they chose to warm up with before the game. Typically, you didn’t have a thing for men in uniform - but baseball pants were a different story.

You loved the game, and had been visiting The Distillery - your local team’s home park - since you were a child, attending games with your family and friends and even dates as the years passed. Baseball games were the perfect summer activity no matter who you were with, and that was even true when your company was the younger brother of your best friend… and the game wasn’t a Major League competition.

“She’s got the tickets.” He made the announcement when you reached the gates, the boy pointing back over his shoulder at you. “Two of them.” You smiled at the attendant, sliding your unzipped bag across the table so she could search it, and then returned your eyes to Caleb. He’d already removed his ballcap and the wallet he carried, pushing them forward and stepping through the metal detector.

“He’s excited, hmm?”

“Yeah.” Letting her scan the ticket barcodes, you laughed. “He really is.” Caleb waited for you to follow him through the turnstiles, his hat flipped backwards on his head, and you could see the impatience on his face. “Caleb, do you want to get something to eat before we -”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not yet. Before the game starts, but …” He glanced over his shoulder and you looked down at the field, where the grounds crew were still getting everything ready. “Can we go down there? I want to try and meet him. He’s playing today. They said it on the news.”

“Go.” Your smile widened, head moving up and down in a nod. “I’m right behind you, kid.”

Caleb took off running toward the stairs that led down toward the third base line, and you followed him slowly, taking your time and eyeing the seating situation. There were people already waiting; a handful of kids and their parents, along with a few women that looked to be your age or a little younger, but there were still plenty of seats open adjacent to the field.

You sat closer than you normally would have, deciding to take a seat in the row directly behind the boy. Just in case. For the next ten minutes, you paid no attention to the field, instead scrolling through social media and waiting, the music pumping through the speakers fading to background noise as you mindlessly browsed and clicked ‘like’ on a few posts.

You also let Erin know that you’d made it to the game, and that Caleb was exactly where he wanted to be. But when you glanced up, ready to take a picture to send to her, you were distracted by the sight of the team taking the field. Caleb was too, the boy bouncing up and down in place as he leaned forward, resting his hands on the low wall in front of him.

You watched for a few minutes - eyeing the players as they did their sprints and stretches, your lips twisting into a small smile at the sight of some of them utilizing their trainers for extra resistance during a few of the exercises. “He’s not here.” Caleb turned back to look at you, disappointment on his face. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Maybe he’ll come out late.” You shrugged, still looking at the field. “You never know, kiddo. You said he’s in the lineup, right?”

“Yeah.” He turned back to the field, leaning forward. “They talked on the radio about how he was coming back today, because they want him to back in Louisville by the end of next week, and -” Caleb stopped mid sentence, straightening up. “There he is!”

You couldn’t help it, your attention snapping in the direction that he was pointing. Sure enough, Jack Daniels and one of the trainers - a woman with short, dark hair and glasses - were taking the field to a low chorus of cheers, many of them coming from the section you were sitting in. There he is.

Despite yourself, you leaned forward to watch him, staring as Jack began his warm up. He started with a few stretches - knee hugs and focusing on his quads, carefully extending and testing his arms, and then bent forward at the waist, the man almost able to press his palms flat against the ground without bending his knees.

You didn’t take your eyes off of him, because like Caleb, one of the reasons you liked going to the Statesman games was looking at Jack Daniels. And there’s so much to look at.

The trainer watched him closely as he continued to warm up, speeding up his movements and then doing a series of static stretches. But when Jack started to do lunges, you actively fought back a groan, settling against the backrest of your seat and chewing on your lower lip. That’s hot as fuck.

He looked healthy, and you were happy to see it, because the truth was that the Statesman needed him to be. “He didn’t warm up yesterday.” You turned your head toward the voice, watching as another woman next to you stared at Jack, her smile wide. “He stretched a little, and took batting practice, but he didn’t warm up.”

“Oh, you were here yesterday, too?” She nodded, and when you glanced back at the field, you saw that Jack and the trainer had switched to more arm exercises, warming up the muscles of his upper body.

“He pinch hit late in the game.” She leaned forward, her smile widening as she watched Jack start arm circles, the trainer standing a few feet away from him with her arms crossed. “So I knew he’d play today. And that’s why I’m here.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Gonna shoot my shot when he comes over here to sign for the kids. Why not, right? We both know he goes for it sometimes.”

The girl was pretty - and definitely dressed to get his attention. She wore one of his t-shirts artfully slashed to show off her cleavage and had her legs on display in a pair of cutoff denim shorts. Good for her. “Yeah, why not.” You smiled, turning your head away from where the players were sprinting into the outfield and back to give her your full attention. “Even if he’ll be back in Louisville pretty soon, you might as well. See what happens.”

“It’s only 40 minutes away.” She shrugged, looking out and pointing at where the man was laying on the field, one knee bent and his other ankle resting against the top of it. The trainer was applying extra resistance, and you hummed in approval as you watched. I wish I was that trainer. “I’d drive there if I needed to.”

Her eagerness didn’t surprise you. Jack was a notably eligible bachelor, and one of the most desirable men on the team. Unlike the others, though, he didn’t often publicly date. But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hook up. And … You returned your attention to the field, watching as he stopped to talk to the woman, pointing at the front of his left shoulder and grinning. And I’m sure he’s got his pick in every city he visits.

“Oh, I think they’re coming over now.”

She adjusted her shirt and you watched her posture change, the woman’s shoulders straightening and her smile widening. Instead of staring at Jack’s strut toward the seats, you looked at Caleb. The boy was buzzing with excitement as he turned toward where the man was headed - about ten people to your left, where a small crowd had gathered. “Do you think he’ll come over?” Caleb said your name, frowning. “There’s not much time, and -”

“He will.” You leaned in, reaching out to touch his arm. “You’re wearing one of his shirts, right? He’s gotta stop for you.” Caleb grinned, turning back toward the field, though he kept his head turned to the left.

You watched Jack then, smiling as he interacted with the fans. He signed autographs and posed for a few pictures, his smile genuine. But you noticed that he was really only focused on the kids and teenagers, spending more than a few seconds with them instead of moving along as quickly as was politely possible the way he did with adults. He took pictures with a few women, the man leaning in but keeping both hands behind his back. He puts his hands on the kids’ shoulders, but doesn’t touch the women… interesting.

“Keep your phone out. I’m gonna need you to take a picture.” Caleb was excited, the boy happier than you ever remembered seeing him. You laughed but did as he asked, leaning to the right and angling the phone so that you could snap a picture of the two of them, though Jack was barely in the frame.

The girl next to you leaned forward when he was only a person or two away, and then seemed to second guess that decision. You bit back a laugh as she stood and climbed over the seats, standing next to Caleb and effectively blocking your view of the man on the field. Gee, thanks.

He finished with the little girl that he’d been speaking to, handing her back a signed baseball and a pen, and then took a step to the side and in front of the woman, saying hello.

Clearly hearing his voice in person shocked you - the man’s accent thick, even in the few words he spoke. You desperately wished that you could see him, but you didn’t want to shift in your seat and draw attention to yourself. I’ll see him when he talks to Caleb.

“I heard you were playing and had to come today.” She leaned forward, fingertips resting against the wall. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah?” He laughed, reaching up to pull his hat off and then set it back down on his head, taking a few seconds to think. You caught a glimpse of the bullseye tattoo on his hand, biting down on your lower lip at the sight. “Well thank you for comin’ out. It’s good to be back on the field.” The woman giggled and then held her phone up, tilting her head to the side.

“Can we get a picture? I’ll tag you in it on Instagram, and -”

“Sure.” You watched as the woman spun around and then leaned backwards, holding her phone up to take a selfie. “Hope it’s a good one.” He smiled, peering at the phone from over her shoulder, and you fought back a roll of your eyes at how wide and practiced her smile was - the woman’s head cocked to the side - and toward his.

When she straightened up, he took a half step toward Caleb, already tipping his head down and toward the boy. But the woman spoke up before he could fully move on, reaching out to touch his arm. “Thank you, Jack. You have no idea how much I -” He flinched - just barely, but you saw it, his shoulder jerking back slightly as her fingertips made contact.

“No problem. Thank you, and enjoy the game.” She stiffened, but you didn’t focus on that. You turned your attention to the boy in front of you - and in turn, Jack, whose face split into a grin, the man’s dimple on display, even beneath the shade from the brim of his hat. “Well hi there. I’m Jack, what’s your name?”

“Caleb.” He leaned forward and you opened your camera app again, your smile widening, too. Caleb’s going to be so excited later. “I had tickets to see you play in Louisville and then you got hurt and I didn’t know if you’d be back this season but then my mom bought me tickets for today after I found out you were going to play again, and so we drove all the way here -”

“Slow down there, big guy.” Jack laughed, giving you a glimpse of his teeth, and then gestured to Caleb’s hand, the boy holding a Sharpie tightly. “You want me to sign somethin’ for you?”

“Yeah. This ticket, please.” Caleb held the marker out, looking up at Jack. “And I’ve got your jersey, but it was too hot to wear it today, so I picked this t-shirt instead.”

“Of course I will.” He nodded, taking the Sharpie and the paper, scrawling his name across the front of it. “Turn around and I’ll sign real big on the number on the back.” Caleb spun around and you were thrilled to see that he was almost delirious with excitement, his eyes wide and his smile nearly splitting his face in two.

“Can I take a picture of you signing for him?” Jack glanced up at the sound of your voice, his smile faltering for a split second and a confused look passing over his features. “I didn’t want to just do it and have the flash go off, and…”

“Go right ahead.” He smiled again, giving you a nod. “Thank you for askin’.” It only took a few seconds for him to sign, but you took multiple pictures, and then as Jack capped the marker, you decided to speak up again, not wanting to make Caleb ask.

“And can I get one of the two of you looking at the camera before he turns around again?’

“You’ve already got your phone out.” Jack smirked at you, and then reached up to tilt the brim of his hat back, showing you more of his face. Holy shit, look at him. “I’m more’n happy to take a picture with my new buddy Caleb.”

You couldn’t help smiling at that, and when Jack settled his hand - the Sharpie poking out from between his fingers - against the boy’s shoulder and squeezed, it widened. “Got it.” You lowered the device, mouthing the words ‘thank you’ at Jack at the same time Caleb spoke them out loud, turning back to face the man.

There were only two more kids to the right of you waiting to talk to Jack, but before moving to them, he hesitated, looking between you and the boy. “Where are you and your mom sitting today, Caleb?” Mom? Do I really look like -

“She’s not my mom, she’s my sister’s friend. And we’re over there.” He pointed at the outfield. “Somewhere.” Why is he asking?

“The section right at the end of the dugout.” Jack pointed, but looked directly at you. “First row. Aisle seats, 23 and 24. They’re mine, and if you want ‘em, today they’re yours.”

“What? Jack, that -”

“I’ve gotta go.” He nodded, looking at Caleb and grinning, and then back at you, his smile softening. “Enjoy the game.” He didn’t say anything else before he stepped down the field and then stopped to talk to the other kids waiting. What the fuck just … “That was so cool!” Caleb spun back to look at you, his eyes wide. “He signed my shirt and took a picture with me and now we get to sit in his seats, and -”

“Caleb.” You took a breath, still trying to process what had happened in the previous few minutes. “I don’t -”

“We’re going to sit in them, right?” You didn’t know how to answer him. Should we? You sighed and then looked to your right, watching as Jack signed a baseball and handed it back to a little girl before laughing with an older man that was with her. “I mean he told us to, and -”

“I definitely would.” The girl next to you spoke up, and when you looked over, you saw that she was jealous, her eyes narrowed as they looked you over. “Do you know him? Is that -”

“I’ve never spoken to that man before just now.” You shrugged, unsure of what else to say. “I have no idea what … or why, or …” You would have been lying if you’d said that no part of you was a little smug at the fact that he’d offered the seats to you and not to her, but you didn’t want to be that woman. “He must have liked you, Caleb.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” She rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Whatever. I’ll just see him after the game at the players’ parking lot.” She stood then, but didn’t say anything else before she spun away from you and headed down the row and toward the aisle.

Caleb watched her go, his head tilted to one side.“What crawled up her butt?” You snorted at his question but there was no way you could give him an actual answer - so you gave him a partial one.

“She’s probably just sad that you get to have a great view of the game tonight, kiddo.” With a sigh, you stood up, sliding your phone back into your bag and zipping it. You looked at Jack, watching as he said goodbye to the last of the fans and then headed for the dugout.

But he didn’t go straight there - instead, he stopped and spoke to one of the security guards, pointing at the stands. Oh, he’s… And then you were stunned when both men looked back in your direction, Jack raising one arm to point at you while nodding. The security guard caught your eye and nodded too, and you then watched as Jack gently smacked him on the arm and smiled again, finally turning away to disappear back into the dugout.

“Can we go and see the seats? And can I get french fries? Will you send the picture to my mom? And Erin? And -” He was excited - and you couldn’t blame him - but you still laughed, gesturing for Caleb to follow you down the row and toward the opposite aisle, closer to your new seats.

“Yeah. We’ll do all that. Let’s go.”

There was plenty of room for the two of you to walk to where Jack had indicated, and when you got close, the same security guard that Jack had spoken to stepped forward, gesturing with one hand. “You’re right here tonight.”

You thanked him, letting Caleb choose which seat he wanted, and when you dropped into the remaining one, you pulled your phone out again as the boy leaned forward, resting his elbows on the back of the wall in front of him.

You had just enough time to send off a few quick texts to Erin - the pictures of Caleb and Jack, as well as one that you took from the seat and a message that said we got upgraded, I’ll explain later before the National Anthem started.

You rose to your feet again, keeping your eyes on the field. Once the music faded and the announcer began to give the starting lineups, you were excited, your smile just as wide as Caleb’s.

And when they announced Jack and the man trotted out onto the field to even more cheers from the crowd, you clapped along with them, pulse quickening. I love watching him play.

He and the shortstop tossed a ball back and forth a few times while the pitcher made his way from the bullpen, and the grin never left the dark haired man’s face. By the time the ump signaled the start of the game, he was settled in place and standing a little behind the bag, knees spread and both hands resting on his thighs.

It took a few batters for him to see any action, and when you heard the crack of the bat, Jack sprung into motion, moving toward second and bending over to scoop the ball off the infield before tossing it to first for the out.

You cheered just as loudly as Caleb did, clapping your hands without looking away from the field - but you weren’t expecting to catch Jack’s eye when he turned to move back into place at third… and you definitely weren’t expecting him to grin at the sight of you.

The moment was over quickly, and as the players ran off the field after the third out, you turned to Caleb, clearing your throat. “You said you wanted fries?”

—

You made it back to your seats just in time to watch the bottom of the second, both of you carrying a drink and a snack. Jack was batting 8th, so there was a good chance he wouldn’t hit until the next inning, giving you time to eat before he headed to the plate.

You also checked your messages, a series of exclamation points from Erin and a thumbs up from her mother the only two you had waiting. You showed Caleb, the boy laughing and then scrolling up to look at the picture of him and Jack, his smile so broad that you thought it must have hurt.

There were no seats in front of you, which meant that you had an unobstructed view when the man finally headed to the plate, the familiar sound of his walkup music - Hungry Like The Wolf - blaring through the stadium’s speakers. Here we go. C’mon, Jack.

He took a few practice swings and you were relieved to see that he didn’t wince or hesitate. His swing looked comfortable, and when you leaned forward, resting your hands on your knees, you nodded as he took another, pointing the bat outward before settling it on his shoulder and waiting.

He swung at the first two pitches, making contact on the second one and hitting a long foul down the first base line. But Jack ended up walking, taking his place on first and then getting into position as the catcher stepped to the plate.

You watched him closely - taking in the way the dark blue jersey fit him, the V of upper chest skin - and a peek of the gold chain he wore - visible thanks to two of the buttons being undone, his socks pulled high to accentuate his muscled calves. He always looks fucking great.

You knew it meant nothing that he’d offered you and Caleb his seats that day - that he’d just done it to be nice. But you would have been lying to yourself if you said that it didn’t make you feel good, Jack’s momentary attention a confidence boost, especially after the reception he’d given the woman next to you.

The batter hit a single, and when Jack advanced to second and stopped, you cheered again, the man clapping his hands and shouting something that you couldn’t hear at his teammate. But it was all for nothing, because the following player popped out, ending the inning.

Jack trotted across the field and toward the dugout, the disappointment on his face evident - but again, when he saw you he smiled, the expression only there briefly … though you certainly didn’t miss it.

As you settled back against the seat, halfway listening to Caleb as he recounted team stats, you wondered why Jack was making so much of an effort when nothing would come of it. You thought of the woman’s comment about the players lot, wondering just how likely it was that you’d be able to meet him if you went, too. But not with Caleb here.

The night would be a good memory at least - for both you and the boy, and that would have to be enough.

By the time Jack stepped to the plate, you were more than ready. The setting sun shaded the sky in hues of orange and purple, the stadium’s lights brightening up the field. Your eyes flicked from where Jack stood to the scoreboard, scanning over the information about him that was displayed there and lingering on the giant image of his smiling face.

But when you heard the groan of the crowd, your attention snapped back to home plate, where Jack was arguing with the umpire over the previous call, his head shaking back and forth. He stepped back into the box, but you could see his irritation, though it didn’t last for long.

He swung on the next pitch and made contact again, sending the ball straight through between first and second. It rolled halfway into the outfield before anyone got to it, and you got to your feet and cheered, the sound signaling that a run scored loud through the speakers. Not only had he gotten his first hit after the injury, but he’d batted someone in, giving the Cavalry the lead.

And when the next player swung hard, sending the ball up and out and over the center field wall, the stadium erupted - Jack raising his arm and pumping his fist as he rounded third, before stopping to wait for his teammate to make it home. They celebrated for a few seconds and then off the field, and you slung an arm around Caleb as both of you cheered, too.

They took a three run lead into the next inning, and then handled their business, setting the batters down 1-2-3 thanks to a double play that Jack initiated. You could see his confidence in every movement; his body remembering exactly what he needed to do to be successful on the field even after weeks away. And he’s good at it, too. That makes a difference.

Caleb left the seats to fill up his cup from the fountain at the top of your section, and by the time he came back the game had started again. It was a productive inning. You spent more of it on your feet than sitting, joining the crowd in cheering as the Cavalry scored three more runs. But when Jack’s turn to bat came, you realized what the celebration meant.

“They took him out.” You looked down at Caleb, watching as he frowned. “They’ve got such a lead, that it’s better to rest him, and …”

“That’s stupid.” Caleb crossed his arms, sighing. “He only batted twice.” You agreed, but you also weren’t the manager of a baseball team. You figured he had a better idea of what the right strategy was when it came to Jack’s rehab … even if it did disappoint you that you wouldn’t get to see him at the plate or on the field again.

The rest of the game went by quickly, and though they gave up a few runs, your team ended up winning handily. Caleb requested to stay and watch the on-field celebration after, and as the players lined up for high fives and handshakes before leaving for the locker room, you focused, too. Maybe he’ll come back out for a second.

It was stupid and you knew it, but the moment the field emptied, it meant that the night - and the experience in Jack’s seats - was over… and you didn’t want it to be.

He took his place in line - still wearing his uniform but without his hat - and you watched as he greeted the other players, smiling and laughing with them as they interacted. You couldn’t hear him, but you could tell he was happy, and that made you smile, too. Maybe he really will be back in Louisville by next week.

The handshakes ended, and when Jack headed back toward the dugout, he didn’t look in your direction again - until right before he made it to the top of the steps.

It was then that he stopped, eyeing the seats until he saw the two of you. You tried not to react, but Caleb didn’t hide his response; the boy raising his hand and waving wildly. Jack laughed at the sight of it, lifting one of his hands in a wave, too.

You thought that was it, but then his head turned just enough that he made direct eye contact with you.

Even from the distance, you could see one side of his mouth lift into a half smile as he nodded, raising one hand and touching the tips of his fingers to his temple before tipping them toward you. Your smile grew and you nodded in return, but before you could do anything else, Jack disappeared into the dugout, leaving the two of you standing in front of the seats.

Well that was something. Biting your lip and letting out a breath through your nose, you turned your attention toward Caleb, saying his name. “Alright, kiddo. We’re going to go to the bathroom before we head out, because I am not stopping twenty minutes into the drive to let you pee.”

—

You’d expected Caleb to talk your ear off the entire drive home. Instead, he fell asleep before you made it back to the highway, leaving you with your thoughts on the drive back.

And you would have been lying if you said that most of those thoughts weren’t of Jack.

The interaction with him had been limited, sure. But it had been meaningful in more than one way, for both you and Caleb. He had a cool story that he could tell his friends, and pictures that he could show them. You’d look back on the way his gaze on you had felt and remember the thrill of being on the receiving end of one of his bright smiles.

You didn’t know him any more than any other person that had ever seen him play or interacted with him briefly, but that didn’t matter. Even if you never spoke to him again, and never saw him in any capacity aside from on the field, you’d have that night as a memory. And a damn good one.

After dropping Caleb off and promising Erin a recap the following day, you drove the short distance to your house and parked in the driveway, turning the car off and enjoying the silence for a few seconds before unbuckling your seatbelt.

Your house was quiet and dark as you moved through it, leaving your shoes and bag by the front door and grabbing your phone before heading upstairs. You tossed that onto your bed and went into the bathroom, scrubbing your face and changing into your pajamas before staring at your reflection in the mirror.

You’d been single for six months, and though you’d talked to a few men through the same dating app Erin had used to meet Troy, none of the conversations had led anywhere past the first awkward meetings. It wasn’t that the men weren’t interested, it was you that was selective, opting not to waste your time with anyone that reminded you of the time you’d spent with your most recent ex.

You knew that you were being picky, but you were content with that knowledge, even if it meant a longer period of being on your own before you found the right person. And Jack couldn’t ever be the right person. You wrinkled your nose while you brushed your teeth, still watching yourself in the mirror. Because he’s been consistently single for his entire career.

Jack kept much of his personal life private, but Janie was the exception to that.

And after climbing into bed and plugging your phone in, you searched their names, refreshing your memory of the story that you’d become familiar with when The Statesman had first drafted Jack.

They’d been high school sweethearts, opting to go to college together. He was going to play ball and major in engineering, and her chosen field was communications. It was clear from all of the pictures of the two of them you found that though they were young, they were in love.

Everything had gone well for the first few months; Jack and Janie settled in on campus, started classes and began making friends. They’d come home together for Christmas, and Jack was set to begin baseball in January with the rest of the team.

But only a few weeks into the pre-season, the unthinkable happened: Janie stopped at a convenience store to buy coffee on her way to meet her study group off campus while Jack was at a team workout, and was caught in the middle of a robbery. She hadn’t even made it to the hospital, and Jack had considered quitting the team due to his grief.

Her parents had convinced him otherwise - reminding him that he’d worked hard for years to get to where he was, and that she wouldn’t have wanted him to give up on his dreams on her account. His parents had agreed, though there were interviews where they admitted that they would have understood if he’d chosen to take a break or even quit outright.

And Jack had taken a few weeks off, but was ready to go on opening day, dedicating his season to Janie and her family. He was a skilled player, there was no question about it, but the coverage of a D1 athlete losing his girlfriend in such a shocking manner helped draw attention to the man and his performance, and it hadn’t taken him long to grab the attention of scouts.

He’d had some attention in high school, too, though nothing had panned out - aside from the offer of a partial athletic scholarship. That all changed in his sophomore year when everyone really took notice of his exceptionally high fielding percentage and his infectious enthusiasm toward his teammates.

Jack declared for the draft that was to take place a month after finishing his junior year - only days after his 21st birthday, and The Statesman had taken him with the fourth overall pick in the first round.

The rest was history.

He’d played with The Cavalry for almost four seasons before getting his first call-up, and though it had been toward the end of the regular season, Jack had received an invite to Spring Training the following year … and he’d never gone back.

In his second season with The Statesman, he’d been named the starting shortstop, making a name for himself with both his agility and personality. His teammates loved him. The community loved him. The cameras loved him, and in the five seasons he’d played in his original position, he earned two gold gloves and got voted into the All-Star Game once.

But he was injury prone, and after careful consideration, they moved Jack from shortstop to third base. It was an adjustment period for everyone involved, though after a few years of playing the position, it seemed almost natural for him, and there were fewer injuries.

Until earlier that season, anyway, when Jack had misjudged a slide into second and jammed his shoulder, spraining a muscle and knocking him out of all baseball activities for weeks. He’d gone on the 60 day injured list, though you’d seen him at more than a few games in the dugout before he’d headed down to rehab with The Cavalry.

He was lucky he hadn’t needed surgery, and even luckier that there’d been no complications with his healing. According to the newest articles you read as you scrolled online that night, Caleb was correct and the team was aiming to have Jack re-activated by the following weekend so that he could finish the final 7 weeks of the season in the majors. Which is where he deserves to be.

You sighed and rolled onto your side, eyes still on the screen - and on a picture of Jack that had been taken a week or two earlier during a Statesman season ticket holder event. He was grinning from behind the bar, one hand holding a glass and the other pulling on a tap to pour someone a drink.

“Enough.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand. Doing a deep dive on Jack wasn’t going to change anything, even if it was keeping you occupied as you wound down for the night.

But before you put the phone down and rolled in the opposite direction, you couldn’t help opening his instagram page and checking his tagged photos, just to see if the woman from next to you had posted the picture like she said she would.

There were countless pictures of Jack in his uniform posted - everything from on-field screenshots to pictures of him with his teammates and family - but those were dotted with more personal ones; people tagging him in photos of themselves, edited photos, or photos of Jack alone that had been taken from other sources. You didn’t have far to scroll before you found the picture of Jack and the woman, tapping it with one finger to make it bigger.

She’d put more than one filter on it, smoothing out her features and his, and when you zoomed in on it, you wrinkled your nose. Why would you filter him? He doesn’t need it. Even with the filtering, you could see the bored look in Jack’s eyes, his smile small and tight. Not like it was with Caleb.

She’d captioned the picture with a black and a yellow heart bracketing the number 7, and it already had more than a few likes. She also had a story, and even though you knew that she’d be able to see who viewed it, you didn’t care, hesitating for only a second before tapping on it.

The girl - whose name was Brittany - had posted a few times throughout the game; pictures from in her seat, a video of Jack walking up to the plate, her grinning at the camera at the end of the game with the scoreboard behind her… but the final story post was clearly a picture of a parking lot with a tall fence around it, and what looked like a security guard in the corner. She went to the lot.

You sighed, backing out of the story - and her profile - and going back to Jack’s, eyes lingering on his account’s picture. You followed him, and had for years - liking and commenting on the pictures he posted as well as tagging him and the other players in the occasional ones you’d taken at games. He’d never replied or acknowledged them in any way, though.

And he won’t, you admitted to yourself as you closed out of the app and opened your alarm, making sure that it was set. “Good luck, Jack.” Closing your eyes after setting the device down on your bedside table, you rolled away from it and got comfortable. As you settled in, you let your thoughts wander back to earlier - to the way Jack’s eyes had warmed when he’d smiled at you, and the way his smile had widened when he saw you and Caleb sitting in his seats.

You would have been lying if you’d said that the memories didn’t make you feel good. It didn’t matter that he’d likely smiled at hundreds of others in the same way. He’d made the night special for you and for Caleb, and that was the important thing.

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep - and Jack followed you into your dreams… which you didn’t mind at all.

—

You didn’t have a meeting until 10:30 the following morning and so you slept in a little, taking a shower and getting dressed before you even checked your messages.

There were a few from Erin, asking for details, and you promised you’d reach out once you had a break. But before then, you needed to focus and settled in in front of your laptop, clicking open your first email of the day. Back at it.

You worked steadily until almost 1 PM, checking things off of your to-do list and scheduling a second consultation with the same client for the end of the following week. You typically worked virtually - and had since your uncle had hired you a few years prior - but there were occasional accounts that required your presence in person. And this one’s going to be one of them.

That wasn’t an issue. Their offices were located in New Orleans, and you were looking forward to potentially spending a few paid days in the city. But we’ll see.

While you waited for your lunch to heat, you called Erin, your friend picking up on the second ring and groaning into your ear. “Whatever happened yesterday must have been incredible because Caleb hasn’t shut up since he woke up this morning.”

“It was pretty great, Erin,” Taking a seat at your kitchen table, you laughed. “I sent him the pictures, did he -”

“He’s already set the one of him and Jack as his phone background. And he’s been bugging me to take him to get them printed.” You weren’t surprised; Caleb loved baseball, and the opportunity that he’d had at the game the previous night had likely meant the world to him. “So how did that happen? He just offered you the tickets?”

“Pretty much. He stopped to sign for Caleb, and just out of nowhere, asked where we were sitting.” You wet your lips, laughing. “And then once he knew we were in the outfield seats, he just … pointed at the dugout and told us that we could sit in his instead.”

“He offered them to Caleb? Or to -”

“Well… sort of.” You stood, looking out your back window. “He asked your brother where we were sitting but he was looking at me when he offered the tickets…” You pulled your food out of the microwave and set it down to cool. “And then when we were in the seats, he made eye contact with me a couple times, but -”

“How hot is he up close?” You snorted, but she continued. “Because that picture of him and Caleb? That man’s hand is -”

“Really hot.” Humming in agreement, you reached for a fork. “And he seemed really nice, too. Paid more attention to the kids than to the adults. There was this girl sitting next to us and she was clearly trying to catch his eye, but he barely looked at her.” You figured that he was a professional and wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize his reputation while on the field - and in front of younger fans. But still. She made it obvious. “He was polite, but he was just … going through the motions.”

She hummed again, the sound non-committal as you took your first bite. “But not with you. And not with Caleb.” No, I guess not. “You should post those pictures and tag him.”

“Erin, I’m not trying to -”

“No, just hear me out. Maybe he’ll see them. And maybe he’ll remember you. And maybe he’ll -”

“Erin, come on. That’s a fantasy. I’m sure he’s got a million people tagging him every day. He won’t even see it if I do.”

“You never know. It can’t hurt.” She said your name, the tone teasing. “And since Caleb’s account is private since he’s twelve, it makes sense you’d post ‘em for him. He really had a lot of fun with you. He’s already asking if you want to go to a game again.”

“Yeah. There’s still a little over a month left this season, so I’m sure we can figure out a weekend to see the Statesman. I’ll third wheel with you and Troy.” She laughed at that, agreeing. “I’m going to go, though. I need to eat. I have to run and analyze metrics for two campaigns this afternoon, and it’s going to take forever.”

You hung up soon after, but as you ate, you contemplated what she’d said about posting the pictures. It was really no different than any of the other games you’d been to or posted about. You’d taken pictures that weren’t of Jack, and those could go up, too. Why not post the one of him and Caleb? It’s a good picture.

After sending the final email for the day, you shut your laptop and changed into more comfortable clothes before stretching out on the couch. You needed to go to the store, but figured it could wait til later … and you had pictures to post.

You chose five of them - one of the field from the concourse, one of the scoreboard, a picture from the seats, and then two of Jack and Caleb - one while he was signing and the other of them looking at the camera, which you made the main image. Choosing a caption was harder than picking the pictures themselves, but you finally opted for something extremely neutral: First @The_Cavalry game of the season. Great game, even better seats, and @CalebOnBase got to meet his favorite player.

You tagged the picture - adding Jack and The Statesman’s accounts - and thought about adding one of Jack’s walk up songs to the post. No. That looks too desperate. So you posted it without, taking one final look at the images - and lingering on Jack’s smile - before you checked the Cavalry’s account to see if they’d posted that night’s lineup.��

Jack was starting again, but instead of being in at 3rd, he was the designated hitter. So he’ll get to bat, but can save his arm. It made sense, and you figured that if all went well, he’d only play in a game or two more before being called back up to the majors. And he’ll be back here. It made you smile, and the expression widened when you got a comment on the post from Caleb - four baseballs and the thumbs up emoji.

You’d done your part, and that was that. Caleb could see that you’d posted the photos, and if by chance Jack saw the tag, he’d also see that you appreciated the seats he’d allowed you to sit in. With one final look at the pictures, you nodded and then sat up, sighing.

“Alright. Grocery shopping’s not going to do itself.”

—

You were stunned the next afternoon when you got an alert that The Cavalry tagged you in a story, and didn’t even try to hold back your grin when you saw that they’d reposted your pictures. You got a comment from their account a few seconds later - Glad you had a great time, thanks for coming! - the words accompanied by a blue heart and a baseball.

After sending the link to Erin so that she could show her brother, you set your phone down, returning to the work you were doing. You stayed busy throughout the rest of the day, and even though your phone kept lighting up with new alerts - strangers liking the pictures and commenting on your post, it didn’t break your focus.

And by the following day, things were pretty much back to normal. The story was gone, strangers weren’t still finding your profile, and you’d opted to work for most of Saturday morning to get ahead, which meant that you could take Monday off. And I can take a nap. I haven’t been able to do that in weeks.

You pulled the drapes shut and then climbed into bed, the darkened room helping you to relax much faster than you anticipated. There was no need to set an alarm, and so you didn’t, figuring that you’d wake up on your own when you got hungry… which you did, just after 6 PM. Maybe I’ll order food. I don’t feel like cooking.

You stretched, pointing your toes, and then reached for your phone, mentally flipping through restaurant options. But you froze with the device in front of your face as the screen lit up, eyes zeroing in on the alert in the center of it.

Whiskey_Jack7 liked your post

---

#jack daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #agent whiskey x female reader #baseball jack #jack daniels baseball au #kingsman au #kingsman: tgs #kingsman the golden circle #jack daniels masterlist #pedro pascal masterlist #on deck #on deck masterlist

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qveerthe0ry · 6 months ago

Text

What Means to You, What Means to Me

Summary: Max Phillips changes everything. Written for @perotovar 's offering of Frith Word Count: 8,046 Pairing: Max Phillips Loki (The Trickster God of mischief and chaos) x afab! NB! Bisexual! Reader Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: smut, talks about gender non-conformity, talks about gender dysphoria as it relates to sex, GENERAL GENDER FUCKERY Beta: My sweet angel @for-a-longlongtime of course A/N: Under the cut

Author's Note: First of all, I just want to thank Erin for putting together this writing challenge and sharing SO much about Norse Paganism. The effort you put into this, from the moodboards to educational resources is incredible. And the fact that you've shared something so close to you with all of us made this writing challenge feel like getting a warm hug <3

Second, see the author's note I wrote at the end (as to not spoil the story) if you want to know the ways Loki ingrained himself in this fic.

You’ve heard of this queer club before, but you’ve never been inside. You’d thought the descriptors were exaggerations, but you find out quickly that you were wrong.

Security is tight at the door, and they ask you questions as they scan your ID that sound like small talk but are a bit more probing once you think about it. Your pockets are patted down and you walk through a metal detector before you even breach the front door.

You’re wondering if it’s even worth all this. You’re by yourself, no one’s meeting you here, and you don’t plan on going home with anyone.

Really, you’re just bored, in a fairly new city with no one familiar but your new co-workers to converse with; those are the last people you want to be around on a Friday night after a long work week.

So you’re here. Are there a dozen other queer bars you could have gone to on this rainbow-lined street? Yes. But none of them really feel right. So you’re here, finally in clothes that you feel comfortable in, around people who aren’t going to make you feel uncomfortable in them.

And its reputation precedes itself.

Gaudy. Over-the-top.

There’s three floors, the top two cut out to overlook the dance floor in the middle of the ground level. There’s chandeliers everywhere, far too ornate for a fucking nightclub. Candelabras litter every tabletop with flaming wax that you’re sure is a fire hazard in an establishment like this. There’s fuzzy, cozy-looking lounges and really hot people walking around serving complimentary waters on gold trays and maybe it was a mistake, coming here.

But you’ve already been through the TSA of nightclubs, and so you might as well grab a drink while you’re here and make the uber ride home worth it.

At least the drinks seem to be cheap. You take too long staring at the specialty cocktail names when a bartender asks how you’re doing, and end up ordering your favorite drink anyways. At least they seem nice, unlike some of the bars you’ve been to at the not-mandatory-but-suggestively-obligatory happy hours after work.

You sit at the bar, a little intimidated by the fancy decor and skilled dancers that overwhelm the club.

The music is unsuspecting, something soft and melodic that you only realize is live music when your eyes settle on her.

Her fiery red hair cascades down her shoulders, igniting all the skin exposed by her backless dress. She’s sitting at the piano in the middle of the dancefloor, obscured by couples and others dancing around her.

She’s everything. The most gorgeous woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Her nose is strong and her jawline juts and contrasts with those soft brown eyes. You’re yearning before you can even realize it, a kind of consumption that leaves you breathing heavier than normal as you sip your drink probably way too quickly.

You focus on her long, nimble fingers, painted red at the nails and fluttering so skillfully over the ivory keys that it makes your cheeks feel hot.

The ringing of the keys doesn't register over the thumping of your heart and the blood rushing in your ears, which feel like molten lava. Perhaps that’s why you don’t notice she’d finished her set until she’s a foot away from you, placing an order you’d only know if you were able to read lips.

Christ, her lips. Plump and painted in the same shade of red as her hair and nails, they purse as she sips from a champagne flute. She’s so dainty, and poised, everything you’ve never had the desire to be.

And she’s staring right at you.

“See something you like?”

Your breath gets stuck in your lungs and your heart flutters in a medically dangerous way.

“You’re incredible.”

The words roll off your tongue without any go-ahead from your brain.

She laughs anyway, with her head thrown back, and the sight of her throat elongated makes your own go bone-dry.

“If I had a nickel,” she jokes with a wink.

Your half-melted brain scrabbles for something to say so you can be graced with her presence for even one more second.

“How long have you been playing?”

She quirks her perfectly shaped eyebrow at you, and she smirks, and something about the way she can see through you like cellophane turns you on and it makes you feel wicked.

“You don’t really care, do you?”

From your peripheral, you see her long, toned arm inching closer to yours on the bar. Her fingers touch yours, feather-light, and you shiver before you freeze in place.

“I— No, I do.”

You can barely hear her low chuckle over the house music that’s started to play in her absence, but you do, and it sounds like heaven and hell all at once.

Slowly, torturously, she leans closer to you, and her bubbly breath ghosts across your cheek, your jaw, and then gusts in your ear.

“Don’t lie to me, handsome.”

Her tone is teasing, sing-songy in a way that might be annoying if you weren’t so aroused.

Your fingers clench around the glass you’re holding, and her own do the same over yours.

“What do you want me to say?”

You don’t know if you’re more scared, horny, or irritated. They’re all three tied for gold, at this point, with tipsy coming in second and way too warm bringing up the rear.

And the pure audacity this woman has is impressive, as she places her lips so so lightly under your earlobe. You hope to god her lipstick stains.

“Ask me if I wanna get out of here.”

Your lungs inflate too quickly, and your eyes close, and you lean into the touch of her lips.

“Where would we go?”

It’s a stupid question. Why in your right mind do you give a flying fuck? She could drag you to the DMV and you’d happily follow like a pup.

She stands from the barstool, tall, taller than you realized, and the proximity puts her between your spread legs.

Your thighs flex involuntarily, and your fingers twitch and ache to touch her.

“I know a place. If you want?”

Her eyebrow is quirked at you again as she leans back. You can’t find your words, so you stand in answer, and now you’re too close. Every delicious curve of her body is pressed against your front and you unhand your drink to dig your nails into the top of the bar.

“Please.”

Her grin is so mischievous that it startles you, those sharp canines on full display. You think about how they’ll feel against your skin as she nods her head and prompts you to follow her.

You might as well be wearing a leash, the way you trail her so closely. You twist your fingers as the nerves start to pick back up, and all of a sudden you’re in front of some elevator doors with a very huge and intimidating bouncer guarding the buttons and staring you down.

“Before we head up, just so you know, I’m working with a… different set of equipment than you might expect.”

You nearly ask her to repeat herself, a bit too overwhelmed with the eyes on you and the situation you’re about to get yourself into. But your brain plays a game of catch-up, and somehow this little fact makes you feel more comfortable.

“That’s cool— me too. I mean, maybe? I don’t know what— uh, what you’d expect me to have, but… yeah.”

Your voice trails off as the big burly bouncer chuckles at you, and your face could probably melt off of your skull with how hot it feels, but then she grabs your hand and squeezes to tug you into the elevator with her.

The club sounds are nearly all drowned out now, and you’re certain she can hear your heartbeat in the silence as she crowds you against the back wall.

“My name’s Max,” she says, speaking all breathy and low against the skin of your neck.

You shiver, barely eke out your own name as her body presses against yours.

It’s heavenly, the way she feels against you, but the way she teases your earlobe between her dark cherry lips feels hellish. You still haven’t touched her, even though your hands are burning to feel the silk of her dress over her waist. You’re intimidated and horny and mentally working yourself up to do anything on your own without her giving you direct orders.

There’s a ding, and all momentum is lost when she turns away from you to enter the snow globe of a penthouse beyond the open elevator doors. You follow eagerly.

“This is your place?”

Your voice is awe-filled as you look around. The walls are just windows, and the city lights and the last few minutes of sunset brighten all the dark wood and leather around you.

“Yeah, so’s the club.”

Her tone is nonchalant, and you gape at her as she steps out of her strappy, expensive-looking high heels. Maybe you shouldn’t be so surprised. She has all the confidence of someone who owns the world, and her cockiness is reflected in the ostentatious nature of the club and her penthouse.

But you’re still shocked. Maybe you’re shocked because she’s chosen you, out of every other patron, to come up here with her.

“It’s nice— the club. And here, too.”

She chuckles and shrugs but she thanks you as her bare feet bring her close to you once more. You feel your hackles raise as she approaches, along with your heart rate, but she walks right past you.

“Follow me.”

As if you’d dream of doing anything else.

Her bedroom is all windows, too. The bed is huge, much bigger than a normal king, and the space itself is fairly empty of any personal touches. It suits her mystique. You feel like you have a million unanswered questions, but none of them matter when she shoves you down onto the mattress and straddles your thighs.

Your mouth drops open, but she steals the words from your breath when she grabs your hands and places them on her hips.

Finally.

Fuck, she feels incredible under this silky dress as you squeeze her waist and arch your hips up into her.

You tell her as much, and get another one of those cocky chuckles that goes straight to your center.

“Do your worst, handsome.”

And maybe you’ve never been the best at getting into someone’s bed, but you’re certain you’re the best once you’re between the sheets.

It’s no exception, with her. You’re so eager to please. You worship every last inch of her body once it’s revealed to you. You take note of all the places you kiss and lick that make her breath hitch, you tease her until her cock weeps, and you take her so far down your throat that tears sting your eyes.

Her nails dig into your scalp, and you feel like the cocky one when she begs you to pull off, when she tells you that you’ve damn near sucked her soul out through her dick.

Your clit is throbbing and you’ve soaked through your underwear by the time she hastily pulls them off of you. She kisses you breathless and bites your lip with her sharp teeth as you roll the condom down her length. The way she whimpers when you finally straddle her sends you reeling. Your hand finds her tit, and your palm rolls against her taut nipple as you finally get her cock to slide through your slick folds. She arches into your touch and she begs and there’s no force powerful enough to keep you from giving in to her pleas.

Her face twists up so fucking beautifully as you impale yourself on her. Inch by inch, so slowly, teasing her like she’d teased you earlier in the night. You feel satisfied and hungry at the same time when you’re flush with her thighs. Her hips buck when you pinch her nipple, and she hits the perfect spot, and neither of you have any resolve leftover.

It’s a give and take that lasts too long and is over far too quick. You ride her, and she thrusts up into you, back and forth until you both crumble at the same time, blinding and intense and loud.

You might black out.

One moment you’re stroking her skin with your fingertips and thanking her over and over, and the next you’re sitting up against her headboard with a glass of water in one hand and her fiery hair in the other.

She’s sighing in your lap, nuzzling into the heat of your thighs with her aquiline nose.

“You’re incredible,” you say for probably the millionth time that night.

She chuckles again, just like she did when you first told her, but her pretty brown eyes shine when she looks up at you.

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

Your face gets all hot again, and you feel shy, eyes darting around the room to focus on anything but the gorgeous woman resting on you.

“Does it bother you when I call you that?”

You huff.

“Not at all.”

“Are you trans?”

You huff again.

“No. I— I don’t know. I’m just… me. In-between. I don’t really feel like I fit any one description.”

She hums and presses a kiss to your mound through your underwear.

“I understand.”

“I’ve always been like this, you know? Before I knew what it was. I just didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. Not in an insecure way. Just that it didn’t feel right.”

“Do you want a dick?”

Her bluntness makes you laugh.

“Sometimes I do.”

She nods, and the way her silky hair feels against your bare thighs makes you shiver.

“It’s actually kind of awesome, I’m not gonna lie.”

She laughs with you.

“Don’t rub it in.”

“I’ll rub it in if you give me another five minutes.”

She does.

You fall asleep in her arms, exhausted and sated and happy.

She’s gone in the morning. All the shades are drawn, those same hazardous candles from the club lighting the apartment dimly. Your clothes are dry cleaned and hanging in a bag you’re certain costs more than your entire outfit. There’s a note next to your half-empty glass of water on the nightstand.

See you around.

Except you don’t.

You wait eight whole days to go back to the club. You wear something nicer, go through the tight security, and saunter up to the bar with much more confidence than your first visit. You wait for her. You drink one too many and hope to find her walking around or playing the piano.

A few people come up to you and ask you to dance, and you refuse each one with the bitter taste of irony on your tongue, and then you go home alone after last call with a headache and queasy stomach.

Maybe she’s just out of town, you tell yourself. She owns an entire nightclub, she’s clearly a very important woman, probably quite busy, too.

You go back the next weekend, and the next, and you don’t see her once.

So after a month, you go again and this time you accept the offers to share a dance, grind against people with a weird confidence you know comes from the woman you hope to see tonight. You share meaningless kisses and buy a few people drinks but refuse an offer or two to ‘get out of here.’

You start to lose hope when the dim lights flicker brighter and last call is announced. But as you bid goodbyes to a group you were hanging with, that very large and scary bodyguard from the elevators is walking towards you, and this time his presence is more exciting and less intimidating.

“Max would like you to come upstairs.”

And while it’s kind of annoying, and seems pretentious— why didn’t she come down here and tell you herself?— you follow. Eagerly. Once again.

He lets you take the elevator up by yourself, and this time the anxiety is more anticipation than it is fear.

Though, when the doors open, you’re face to face with a guy.

He’s got a familiar cocky smirk on his face, messy gelled hair, and he’s leaning up against a wall with his arms crossed.

Panic, is what your body tells you to do, leave, run. But you’re frozen under his thick gaze.

The elevator doors start to shut, and you take a step back when he moves to hold them open, but he chuckles.

A cocky little chuckle.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Max.”

“No you’re not.”

“C’mon, handsome. It’s me.”

You shiver when he calls you that, but not in the same way you did when she said it.

“Is this some kind of joke? Listen, she didn’t tell me she was exclusive with anyone—”

He cuts you off by saying your name in a pleading tone.

“Come in, please, just give me a minute to prove it to you.”

Panic. Run. Leave.

You ignore every instinct to finally step out of the elevator.

“You told me, last time, that sometimes you wished you had a dick. Right?”

You nod before you can think better of it.

Who is this guy?

You’re no stranger to genderfluidity, the way a haircut or makeup or different clothes can drastically change someone’s look— but this isn’t that. This can’t be that. While they have similar features, her sharp noise was still softer, her eyes were less crinkled at the edges, her brow bone was much less prominent. If this is smoke and mirrors, she’s one hell of a magician.

“Do you wish you had one right now?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. Are you guys twins or something? What’s going on?”

He chuckles again, and you have to say, it’s much less arousing coming from him than it was from your Max. He reaches out to touch your arm, and you want to shove him away, but you can’t.

Your body feels frozen, again, but not from fear. There’s a strange sensation that courses through you, some unexplainable energy that makes your bones feel like they’re vibrating, makes your blood feel thick and heavy in your veins.

It scares you, but the newly soft look on this Max’s face is just comforting enough to keep you from a full-fledged panic attack.

That, and the fact that it’s over just as quick as it started. Your body loosens back up as Max’s hand on your arm rubs reassuring circles.

But then you feel weird. A strange turning low in your gut, kind of like arousal, but not quite. And your pants feel tighter, more constricting than they did earlier.

You look down.

There’s a bulge in your pants, like there would be if you were packing. But you’re not. You’re certain you made the decision to leave it at home when you left earlier in the night.

You look back up at him. He’s smirking.

“You can touch it.”

You do, despite your brain screaming how weird it would be to touch your crotch in front of a man you’ve never met before.

You have a dick.

You feel it now, and while the feeling of it in your hand isn’t foreign to you, the fact that it’s sensitive and fucking actually attached to your body is.

You pull your hand away like it’s been scalded.

“What the fuck?! How did you—“

You stare at him open-mouthed and terrified and maybe a little bit turned on.

“Does it matter? I gave you what you’ve always wanted.”

He looks from your face to your… dick, and back again, smirking, admiring, like he’s just finished an art project.

“Will it… Will it go back?”

“Do you want it to?”

“I— I don’t know.”

Max chuckles that damn chuckle, all full of himself. But this time, it’s her. You know it is, now. As crazy as it sounds, it’s the only thing that makes sense. This is your Max.

“Why don’t you take it for a test drive? If you don’t like it, I’ll change you back.”

You gape at him. It’s all clicking. This is your Max, and they’ve listened to you and done something so fucking weird but so fucking sweet. You don’t know how, and you honestly are starting to care less and less the longer Max keeps staring at you like he’s proud. Of you or himself, you’re not so sure, but it’s working.

“It’s— it’s you, isn’t it?”

“I told you so.”

“Fuck,” you sigh, “where have you been? I came back. Every weekend.”

Max hums.

“I was a little caught up. Got into a bit of trouble, as I do. But I’m back, and I wanted to see you. I’m glad you came.”

“Are you— I mean… you look a lot different?”

He shrugs.

“Do you still think I’m hot? I can change back—”

“No! No, sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I was just confused. You’re still—”

“Incredible?”

You huff a laugh, and finally relax for the first time since you got into that elevator.

“Yeah. Incredible.”

His cocky demeanor falls to the wayside to make room for something more sincere. He takes a few steps until you’re face to face with him, and places a suspiciously cold hand on the back of your heated neck.

“I missed you,” he mumbles.

“I— I missed you too. That night… I’ve thought about it so much.”

“Mmm, yeah? Me too.”

You kiss the stupid smirk off of his face.

He tastes the same as you remember before, like champagne and sweet mint and her. His teeth are just as sharp, scraping your tongue as it explores every bit of his mouth.

His free hand grabs your hip and pulls you even closer to him and fuck, that feels better than it has any right to. Your cock stirs in your pants and you buck your hips again, fiending for this new type of friction.

“Come to bed with me?”

All you can do is nod and follow.

The bedroom looks just the same as it did last time, but the lack of sunlight makes everything feel quieter tonight— slower, more serene.

He turns down the covers slowly, and you stand at the foot of the bed, extremely uncertain about what happens next, even though your dick throbs with anticipation.

“You still into this?”

Max’s voice startles you out of your own head.

“Yeah, sorry. Nerves.”

He hums and steps closer to you.

“Nothing to be nervous about, handsome.”

You nod and let your eyes trace up and down his body, noting his broad shoulders in that crisp white dress shirt and his thick thighs under the satiny sheen of his slacks. He’s still just as gorgeous in this masculine form, and it’s as irritating as it is enticing.

“Do you wanna fuck me?”

“Shit.”

His words go straight to your cock, and you’re unashamed to palm it in your hand and press and curse at the completely new sensation.

“I’m assuming that’s a yes,” he chuckles. “Do you want my ass or my pussy?”

Your hand on yourself stills.

“You— you have a pussy?”

“I can.”

And it shouldn’t surprise you, after everything else that’s happened in the last ten minutes, but it still does. Your breath stutters in your chest and your dick fills out even more against your hand and you distantly wonder how big Max made it, if it’s exactly what he wants.

“Can I— Will you show me your pussy?”

He leers at you when you ask, and it only turns you on even more.

“I was hoping you’d go for that.”

He starts unbuttoning his shirt, but this whole mad situation has you feeling much more comfortable, in a fuck it kind of way. You step into his space and work the buttons free, and follow with your mouth. His skin is cold under the heat of your lips, and by the time his shirt hangs free from his shoulders you’ve made it your personal mission to warm up every inch of him.

It’s easy to work his belt open, undo his fly and watch it open to a thick thatch of pubic hair. You pause to press your lips to his again, to reach around to cup his pert asscheeks as his slacks fall to the floor.

You can’t stop grinding against him, even as you press him back and down onto the bed. You just follow, fully clothed, hesitant to deny yourself this new heady feeling of pressure to your cock.

It’s only when he suckles your top lip and reaches down to palm you that you realize you’re teetering on the edge of embarrassing yourself.

Your hips jolt away from him and it hurts a bit when you rip your lip out between his teeth, but all the better to take your mind off the intense, heavy arousal in your gut.

“Okay?”

He asks it with a smirk, like he already knows the answer, so you don’t give him one. You just stare down past your heaving chest to see the damp spot on your pants and start to unfasten them to relieve some of the pressure.

“You’re gonna want to chill out. Refractory periods are annoying with those things,” he warns.

You huff.

“That’s kind of you,” you joke.

It’s better, just in the thin fabric of your underwear, less resistant. You want to take them off too, but you’re afraid that the euphoria from seeing yourself with a dick will really conflate the issue at hand.

So you shuffle down the bed a bit, and press your lips to Max’s flat chest, to his nipples that are half the size they were last time. They pebble quickly under your attention, and you bite down on one when you accidentally drag your cock along the mattress.

He groans and arches into you, goads you on with a hand on the back of your neck.

“Are you as good at eating pussy as you are at sucking dick?”

It’s almost comical, the way he applies pressure to urge you further down his body.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You nip at his sparse happy trail as he pushes you down with his large hand on your shoulder and delight in the way his muscles twitch under your mouth.

“Some time this century, yeah.”

You hum, nose at the wiry curls on his mound and grab the wrist of his hand that’s still pressing on you.

“You’re not very gentlemanly,” you tease.

He laughs as he stares down at you with his dark eyes. His hand moves to cup your jaw and you let it, let him trace your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Is that what you want? A gentleman?”

You suck his thumb into your mouth as you shake your head, grinning around his knuckle. You bite down a little harder than you mean to and he hisses. He yanks his hand from your mouth to grab the back of your head and tug until your face is buried between his thighs.

You relent, breathing in the scent of him, bypassing any preamble to shove your tongue inside of him. The way his hips buck into your face makes you smirk into his folds and dig your nails into the skin of his thighs.

He still makes the most beautiful noises, when you get down to it. Desperate, hungry, eager. For as cocky as he is, he sure writhes against you like a shameless whore as he whispers curses into the dark room.

You savor the taste of him, the warmth and tightness of him around your fingers, the scratchy feeling of his bush tickling your nose. The way his strong thighs tense and relax under your grasp makes you want to feel them do the same around your waist.

You look up when he starts clenching around your fingers like a vice, and the thought of that feeling around your new dick makes you whimper into his pussy. You focus even more on the way you suckle and flick his clit, to try and set the arousal aside so you don’t come before you can even slip into him.

He’s got his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his back arched off the bed when he finally shudders and comes. You work him through it, lapping at his dripping hole, letting him grind against your tongue until he’s squirming away from your touch.

You’re dragging this out. Stalling. You press little biting kisses to his thighs and his mound as he’s coming down. Maybe if you just worked him through one more, you’ll be calm enough to—

“C’mere already.”

You roll your eyes at him as he tugs on you, but you go willingly to hover over him and let him lick his taste from your mouth. His hums are lower and more subdued in the aftermath and they rumble deep in your chest as you try your hardest not to grind into him.

It doesn’t matter.

His free hand wraps around your cock and the feeling turns you on so much that you almost feel nauseous. You can feel all five of his fingers there, even with how big his hands are. He’s around you, and the familiar sensation on the inside mixed with the foreign sensation against your skin is a bit confusing but so hot. He squeezes and you jolt, bite down hard on his lip, but it only makes him chuckle.

“That good, huh?”

You groan into the crook of his neck in answer, completely at a loss for words.

“I’d like to say the novelty wears off, but I haven’t found that it does.”

You feel like you’re on fire, honestly, like you’re trapped in a burning building with no way out. It’s hard to speak or breathe or think with his hand wrapped around you over your underwear. You can’t even begin to imagine how good his skin is going to feel against yours.

“C’mon, handsome, lie back for me.”

You do, with his help, reclined back against his decorative pillows. Your breathing is ragged as he takes his time getting your shirt off and pressing surprisingly sweet kisses to everything revealed to him.

You ground yourself by petting his hair, coarse and a little sticky from hair gel but thick enough to be extremely satisfying to card through. For a moment you’re able to focus on the feeling of it slipping between your fingers instead of the throbbing of your prick.

But then his thick fingers find the elastic waistband and creep underneath. It shocks you out of your false sense of security. When your panicked eyes meet his, they’re so warm and soft you think you could maybe cry a little about it. But he speaks up instead.

“Are you still okay with everything going on?”

And you are, even though you’re hanging by a thread and preemptively embarrassed by what’s about to go down; you want it so bad.

So you nod.

“Words, handsome.”

You huff.

“Yes, Max. Please.”

He hums and smiles.

“Good boy.”

You’re engulfed by embarrassment when your cock jumps dramatically at his words, right beneath his hovering face. You feel even hotter when he huffs out a laugh.

But then he’s pulling your underwear, and it’s there, in plain sight, a gorgeous cock. It’s perfect, it’s how you’ve always imagined yours would look if you had one. Like Max knew, somehow, was inside your brain and could see the same fantasies that you could.

It jerks again in the cool air. You can feel the blood rushing there, a powerful gush that makes it twitch when you think about how it’s your dick, on your body. He hasn’t even touched you yet and you can feel pre-cum dripping down your shaft.

“Can I taste?” He asks.

You nod, then remember your words.

“Please.”

You can’t produce more than a whisper as you watch him lean forward, like slow motion, with his tongue hanging out dramatically and his eyes locked on yours.

The first touch of his tongue against your skin has your hips flying off the mattress at a speed that you’re sure defies laws of physics.

He just looks so fucking gorgeous with your prick eclipsing the middle of his face. Your prick looks so gorgeous. God, you’re starting to understand where cis men get their audacity from.

You tighten your grip on his hair for no other reason than you need something to hang onto or you might just float off into space. He teases you with more kitten licks, up one side, then the other, and you watch in awe. You can’t take your eyes off it, even though it may delay the inevitable if you could.

He kisses the head of it, and his tongue does something wicked right underneath it that makes you tug his head back by his gelled locks.

“Too much?” He asks, even as he winces at your tugging.

“You’re teasing, and all that’s going to lead to is disappointment on your end.”

God, why do you sound like you’ve just run a marathon?

“I’ll never be disappointed by making you come, handsome.”

He’s so fucking annoying. You want to fuck his face just to shut him up, but you know that would only last about ten and a half seconds.

You curse and close your eyes and dig your head back into the pillows. He must take it as a signal to continue, because bright, staticky stars burst behind your eyelids when he takes you into his mouth for the first time.

Fuck. You’re inside him. It feels hot and wet, kind of squishy, but so tight when he sucks and sinks his mouth down even farther.

You yell. The dramatic noise is ripped from your vocal chords without your consent, and your eyes fly open to look down at him. Those plush fucking lips look so goddamn good wrapped around you, all wet and red and swollen. You squeeze his hair in your hand. You’re so torn between wanting to chase the warmth of his mouth and wanting to arch away from it.

Then you feel it, that familiar twisting deep and low in your gut, only it’s ten times as intense as it usually is. You start to panic.

“Max! Max, please, I’m—!”

He pulls off quickly, and squeezes the base of your jerking dick. It kind of hurts, and you hiss and watch in horror and wait for something to come out. But it doesn’t. It’s so weird, the way he’s manually shut down your orgasm with one touch. Completely different than the way you would have had to hold back without this new dick.

“That’s—”

“Incredible, right?”

You huff in the midst of catching your breath. You still feel like a hair trigger, but without someone’s finger hovering over it now.

“Oh my god,” you sigh.

He laughs and lets go of you. You watch him wipe the corners of his pretty mouth and distantly think that you can’t wait until you get used to this, so you can make him gag and watch his drool and your cum seep from it.

Your dick jerks at the thought, and it’s strange to have the evidence of your arousal be so obvious. It’s like a damn car alarm.

“Wanna fuck me now?”

You laugh, delirious.

“My new nickname’s gonna be One Pump Chump.”

He slithers up the bed to lie beside you.

“It’s totally understandable. Normal, even.”

You raise your eyebrow at him.

“How big is the sample size?”

He shrugs and smirks but his eyes focus on the bedsheets between you.

“I know I seem like a douchebag, but I really just wanna help.”

You pout at him, but fix your face before he looks back up at you. You run your hand through his hair, gently this time, and something about this whole situation is making your heart feel all gooey.

“You only seem like a little bit of a douchebag.”

He grumbles at you but smiles.

“Besides, there’s like, a billion things you’re gonna want to try with that thing. You’ll get practice.”

That thing suddenly doesn’t feel as pressing anymore. You’re still hard as rock, but it finally feels like it would take a little more than a gentle breeze to make you spill.

“Let me fuck you, then.”

“Yeah?”

You nod and smile; and some of that eagerness comes back to light up his devious eyes. He reaches for the condoms in the bedside table and you admire all of the taut muscles under his tan skin.

“You want help with this?”

You roll your eyes, but it’s kinda sweet. You’ve never actually put one on at this angle before. So you get between his thighs when he lies back and let him roll it on you.

“You can definitely get someone pregnant with this too, so… be warned. Don’t sue me about it, it won’t go over well in court.”

Your dick bobs in his grasp as you laugh. It feels so weird and fascinating.

“Noted, thank you for the disclaimer. And sorry about the lawsuit?”

He squeezes your prick around the condom and smiles up at you.

“No worries, that was decades ago.”

You laugh until the words catch up with you. But you don’t have time to question it much, because he’s lying back and spreading his thighs for you, getting a pillow under his hips so his glistening pussy is tilted perfectly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him so aroused and ready for you, and at the thought of how much more wet and tight and hot it’s going to feel compared to his mouth.

You sigh and play with his little clit, still wet from your saliva. He keens and seeks out more friction and you have to fuck him. His pussy is even more enticing now, knowing you can slide your prick inside.

You shuffle closer and try to remind yourself to take your time. You purposefully glide your hands up his thighs, feeling the way the hair gets more sparse and fine the further up you go. You’re delighted by the little goosebumps that form under your fingertips and the way he sounds so relaxed when he sighs.

Shuffling even further now, you settle those thick thighs over your own and let your knees cage his slim hips. When you look up, he’s watching you through hooded eyes with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You really are gorgeous,” you tell him, softly, afraid to disturb what’s becoming a very peaceful calm before the storm.

His breath hitches a little and you see it as it ripples his chest.

“You really are handsome,” he winks back.

Your hand wanders up higher, across his ribs, and your thumb presses against his stiff nipple and rolls it. You feel the small noise he makes under your palm and smile.

Your other hand grabs the base of your cock, sure to keep the base of the condom from slipping down. The subtle move kind of makes you feel like a pro, and you’d snicker about it if the euphoria that flooded through your body didn’t overwhelm you.

It’s kind of like an out of body experience. But you’re also painfully aware of your body and this new appendage and the way the feeling of it is wreaking havoc on your entire being.

You slide your cock through his wet folds and even just this feels incredible, the way every bit of him feels rubbing against your sensitive cockhead. You can’t drag it out any longer, you know.

“Are you ready?” You ask him hesitantly.

“Are you ready?”

You snort and roll your eyes and pinch his nipple. His back arches and the movement makes your dick slip down, press just barely against his opening. You suck in a breath and it takes every ounce of willpower not to shove yourself inside to chase that wet heat.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready. Just fuck me already. Gonna feel so good.”

For him or for you, you’re not sure which he means, but it doesn’t matter.

You try to take your time. You really do. But as soon as the head of your prick slips in it’s like you have no self control.

You chase the warmth, plunge all the way into him, and stay.

Oh my god.

“Oh my god.”

Max chuckles at you and you can feel it. You’re so fucking wrapped up in him. Every little move, shift, clench, it surrounds you and overwhelms you.

“You feel so fucking good, Max.”

You’re sure you look absolutely wild. Your jaw is permanently dropped, eyes wide as you try with all of your might to hang on.

“Ditto,” he breathes.

His eyes look dark and intense, when your eyes can finally focus in.

“Do you— did you make it exactly how you like?”

It’s so stupid to be asking questions right now but it’s the only thing you have to keep you somewhat composed.

“Yeah,” he admits, a little breathless.

“You get off on that?”

You know he does before he answers, can feel him clench and contract around you. You muster up the dexterity to find his clit with your thumb and press.

“I do! I do, fuck.”

You finally start to inch out of him, slowly, afraid that too much friction will send you over the edge.

“Are you using me like a toy?”

He whimpers, and the sound alone makes you snap your hips back into him.

“No, no, that’s not it.”

Your brows rise up in question, and you pull out again as you wait for him to explain.

“It’s— I dunno. I like that you… hah, shit, like that, don’t stop.”

You feel smug that you’ve derailed his thoughts by starting to fuck him with a slow rhythm, if only because he’s derailed yours a million times in the two nights you’ve shared.

You circle his clit and groan at the way his pussy squeezes you. It’s hard to even pull out of him, it’s like he’s sucking you right back in.

“You were saying?”

And it doesn’t sound smooth coming from your mouth, your breathing labored and your voice strained.

“I like that you’ll think of me when you fuck. I like knowing I made you like this for me even if others get to enjoy it. I like knowing— shit— I like knowing I’m the one that makes you feel good.”

You balk at his confession. Such a beautiful explanation for something so possessive. From anyone else it would sound so objectifying. But with this strange relationship the two of you have, it makes your entire body burn.

You collapse on top of him once the words really sink in. You hide your face in his sweaty neck and begin to rut into him with the knowledge that you’ll probably crumble far too quickly, but you don’t quite care.

“You do, you make me feel so good,” you tell him.

He whines and works his hips against yours to meet your frantic thrusts. You grab his hair again and bite faint marks into his neck that make him writhe and squirm against you.

“You do too— harder, please, fuck me harder.”

Man, your hips are starting to ache, just like with your strap, but this time the sensation of feeling him wrapped around your very real cock keeps the discomfort at bay and it’s just pure bliss.

So you double down, raise back up to put more of your back into it. Your sweaty hands slip against his skin as you try to grab his hips for leverage.

“You gotta touch yourself for me,” you pant.

The way he scrambles to comply just turns you on even more, gives you one more tick in the ‘power tripping’ column. He looks so fucking beautiful under you, back all arched in pleasure, his face scrunched up in concentration. His bicep is bulging as he slides three fingers back and forth across his clit, so frantic but so practiced.

You fuck him and try to think about anything other than how good he feels. You’re plunging into the world’s softest, warmest hole and he’s moaning for you, you’re making him feel just as good as you do, and you’re going to lose it.

“Gonna come, Max. I can’t—”

“Do it, come for me. Wanna be the first.”

Your hips stutter as the wave finally, finally crashes over you. You try so hard to fuck through it, try to make him come again, but as the first shock of your orgasm spikes up your spine, you can’t think to do anything but try to bury yourself as far as you can into his tight cunt.

You know he’s saying something encouraging by the tone of his voice, but his words go in one ear and out the other as you grind into him and rest your sweaty forehead in the middle of his chest. It feels so good you could cry.

Your fingertips dig into the flesh of his hips as you ride it out, and your chest starts to burn and your throat starts to ache and your eyes start to burn.

You are crying.

“Shit.”

It comes out as a broken sob, muffled into his chest, and he starts at the sound.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

You shake your head against him.

“I’m fine.”

“I know, just breathe though.”

The breaths you suck in are all shuddery and stilted, and there’s snot, and it’s so embarrassing but comforting all at once.

He urges you to slip out, and he even holds the condom for you, pulls it off, and ties it while you try to reel yourself in.

You don’t, not right away at least, because once you get over the crazy rush of endorphins and serotonin and dopamine or whatever that’s flooded your body, you start feeling extremely self conscious about the whole sobbing during sex thing, and the fact that he didn’t get off, and—

“Come snuggle?”

You’re not sure when he got up, but he’s holding up a robe for you in one hand, and cradling your head in the other, and ushering you out into the living room. His fireplace is on now, and there’s a tall, snobby glass bottle of water on his end table.

You’re tired, now. Like, bone-deep exhaustion. You slump into him where he’s sprawled out on his leather couch and close your watery eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

He shushes you gently, pets your head that’s on his chest that definitely has your dried snot on it still.

“Don’t be sorry. As long as you feel good, I feel good.”

You nod, and taking a deep breath comes easier to you this time. You brave a look up at him, and his eyes are warmer than ever as they reflect the orange-yellow flames.

“Thank you.”

He smirks then, and you feel the tension in the room shift.

“So how was it?”

You grin and hide it in his pecs. You’re hyper aware of your spent dick lying soft and sticky on your thigh. You’re so much more tired than you ever usually are after an orgasm. It was all so different, every little bit of it. And there’s this calmness you feel now, after all the commotion, and it hits you all at once that it all feels right.

There’s no cleaning your strap, putting away your toys, no sliding on your underwear to hide the thing that just gave you pleasure. There’s no awkward dissonance. It’s just… normal. Normal in a way it’s never been before. Effortless bliss, like a sensory deprivation tank. Nothing.

“It was everything.”

Author's Note: I wanted to share a bit about what really resonated with me as I learned more about Loki. The one thing that stuck with me throughout this writing challenge is that Loki is not a bad guy. I will be honest, the only thing I knew about Loki before this was from the MCU, which to me seems like an oversimplification of the norse god from everything I've learned about him. Erin provided me with this very thorough video that analyzes Loki and his myths. To me, he seems like someone who liked to 'stir the shit' for the sake of curiosity. I didn't find much ill will at all in these tellings of his trickery, just a guy who wanted to fuck around and find out about things, someone who did more than just wonder what would happen.

Second, Erin said he's Like a fun older brother. Very playful and mischievous. Very straight-forward. Protector of outcasts; lgbtq+ folks, disabled people, neurodivergent people, etc. This was another driving force behind this fic. It wasn't a coincidence that Max met reader their first night at the club, they founded the club for the sole purpose of creating a safe space for queer people and takes an active role in making sure their patrons feel like they belong.

Lastly, Erin said their pick for me would be Max / Loki because of the gender fuckery, which excited me as much as it made me feel honored. When watching the aforementioned video, I learned about Loki turning himself and Thor into a bridesmaid and a bride, respectively. Loki himself was unrecognizable and was the exact image of a woman. However, Thor pretty much just looked like himself in a dress (this is paraphrasing.) I loved the idea that Loki's shapeshifting could not only be directed toward other people, but could vary in vagueness. These undefined rules for Loki’s gender felt like how I personally view gender in general, as well as how I relate it to my own identity, and I really took that idea and ran with it.

Anyway, thank you again @perotovar for this writing challenge and the piece of yourself you shared with all of us. I love you so much! <3

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #max phillips #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #perotovar's offering of Frith #writing challenge

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cheekinpermission · 7 months ago

Note

now, I know you don't ship your oc with anyone, buut- if you did, who'd it be????

I spent way too long on this question LMAO

Like anon pointed out, I don’t really ship Erin with anyone in particular mostly because I didn’t really write her to be with a canon character. She’s just trying not to die, honestly. But I’d be lying if I said I never imagined hypotheticals with her and some of the boys, so here’s the answer I settled on: tier list edition!

I’ll explain it a bit more in detail under the cut but there’s the short answer for anyone who wants to skip my rambling.

Ace x Erin

There is no universe in which Ace is not in love with Yuu, no matter what form they take.

Friends to lovers is a CLASSIC trope that I love dearly. Besides Grim (who is more like family anyways), Ace was Erin’s first friend! Ace and Deuce dropped their vacation plans to come and rescue them from Scarabia. He literally never shuts up about Erin and Grim when they’re separated. Ace has made two very suspicious requests to share a bed with Erin. Dude is down bad. And I love it <3

The reason he is so high up on the list and Deuce isn’t is simply because Ace and Erin have a lot more in common than Deuce and Erin. In fact, I’ve said once that she’s a female version of Ace in a lot of aspects and I still think that’s true. I could definitely see them as having a very fun and playful relationship, but still willing to drop everything to help the other if necessary.

Realism: 2/10

Sorry, Ace. You may like Erin, but Erin doesn’t like you. Not like that, anyway. Not now. Cough.

Azul x Erin

IT'S FOR THE MEMES!!!

I love Erin and Azul in much the same way as I love Jamil and Azul. The octopus boy pathetically pining after someone who wants nothing to do with him is so beautiful. Erin and Jamil would eat Azul for breakfast and he’d say THANK YOU.

This is me rn:

Putting aside the rivals to lovers storyline that everyone loves, I do think they could make an absolute power couple. What does a scheming octopus need? An equally scheming wife at his side, of course!

Realism: 0/10

Bro Erin hates him-

Kalim x Erin

This couple just makes my heart happy <3

I’m obsessed with couples that are compliments of one another. They’re different, but different in a way that the other needs. Kalim’s ultimate downfall is his naivete and I think Erin offers a more grounded and rational approach to things. She’s more observant and cunning. Opposite to that, Erin would really benefit from someone as generous and kind hearted as Kalim is. Someone who is forgiving and willing to see the best in people, even when he’s been wronged.

They’d be a good, healthy couple, and I love that for Erin. She deserves someone to make her happy and would want someone to make happy in return.

Realism: 6/10

Erin appreciates Kalim’s positivity, especially since she’s surrounded by people who look down on her for not having magic and whatever else the cast rags on Yuu for. I’d certainly consider them friends in canon but not romantic.

Vil x Erin

Fun fact: Erin canonically has a small crush on Vil. BUT ONLY BECAUSE HE SMOOCHED HER CHEEK IN BOOK 6! Erin is so affection starved that the simple act of a “thank you” kiss on the cheek was enough to make her develop a bit of a crush on him. It was never big enough to motivate her to want to date him or anything like that, but an attraction was there.

Erin and Vil both have a similar appreciation for beauty. They both emphasize the value of hard work and self-improvement. They’re also both pretty strict on themselves to constantly be better than they were yesterday. Likewise, Erin isn’t too concerned with gender norms so Vil criticizing Epel for considering ballet “girly” won him a lot of points in her book.

Just by virtue of Erin and Vil having a lot in common, I think they would make a cute couple. She’ll 100% sit down and be pampered and then turn around and do the same for him. Erin is naturally pretty charming and charismatic, so I could see her integrating well into celebrity culture. Erin also values her independence in a relationship and I don’t really see Vil as someone who would mind that too much. They’re both busy people with their own lives who can come together at the end of the day and that’s nice.

Make room, Rook and Cater. Erin’s joining the Vil fan club.

Realism: 7/10

They would be the most likely couple to work out, but I have no plans to make anything official.

I could see it

This category includes characters that I think would either pair well with Erin or make for a fun ship.

Ruggie and Floyd both give “partners in crime energy” that I think could be fun to play with.

Malleus and Erin are interesting. Malleyuu is one of my favorite pairings, but for Erin specifically I wanted to deviate. I think it’d be more interesting if Malleus only liked Erin as much as he did simply because she was the first person to really give him the time of day as “Malleus” and not “future king of the briar valley and one of the most powerful mages in Twisted Wonderland”. If I were to write them a love story, I’d actually have Erin reject Malleus in Night Raven College. A few years later, they’d reunite after maturing and growing and fall in love as adults post-graduation. I think it’d be neat.

(That being said, I wrote them as platonic friends LOL)

Erin and Silver are appealing in the same way that Erin and Kalim are appealing, just to a lesser extent because I don’t see the same chemistry

Maybe??

Erin and Deuce just give me sibling energy so it’s hard for me to want them to be together, but he’s not the worst option

Trey and Cater have the advantage of being Heartslabyul residents and I just envision Erin as being closer with them than most dorms because of Ace and Deuce

I think Rook could totally win Erin over with passionate displays of love if he was sincere about it. If he takes her hand and they dance in the square Rapunzel style and she’ll be falling fr

Never really thought about it

Kinda self-explanatory. I never really explored their relationships with Erin in depth so I don’t really have an opinion of where I’d place them?

Jack and Jamil seem too serious for Erin

Jade is just kinda there and freaks her out tbh

Epel and Erin would have to fight over his narrow view of gender norms

Erin and Idia are just TOO different in terms of extrovert to introvert. Ik some people really like those pairings but I don’t. I think pairings can be different, just not TOO different. (I’m also projecting because I’m an introvert and extroverts exhaust me LOL)

Sebek is… Sebek

BLEGH

Ortho is just a baby

I don’t ever see it happening so i can’t say i ship them but i love him so we’ll call it wish fulfillment <3

It’s no secret that Riddle is my favorite character, so of course a part of me wants to like Erin and Riddle as a couple because then I could have him around more.

They just don’t work in my head LOL

I don’t think Erin would mind the rules so much, unless he started trying to make HER follow them. He can be as rule-abiding as he wants, but if he tries to tell her that she can’t put honey in her lemonade after 8 p.m… there’s gonna be a fight.

On the OTHER hand, I think Riddle having a partner that can help him to enjoy life without the stress of following rules or the guilt of breaking on is super cute. Someone who could ease him into letting go of his need for rules, and who can reassure him when he inevitably slips up. Someone who can encourage him to stand on his own and to be confident in his own decisions outside of what a rule book dictates for him. Or, y’know, his mother.

Riddle being the more reserved, caretaking one and Erin being the more spontaneous, fun-loving one...

Okay, wait, I might have to revisit them. (My bias may be showing.)

Illegal :)

Erin is 17. Leona is 20 and Lilia is, like, 700. Nope.

#stop giving me reasons to blab about erin cause i'll talk your ear off #“i dont ship erin with anyone” *writes 1k words explaining why she would / wouldn't work with all the students*#im pretty comfy with erin being platonic #but it's fun to play hypothetical and pair her off with random people for funsies #she also prefers women so-#twisted wonderland #twst #twst yuu #twst mc #cheekinrambles #thanks for the ask!

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lcdrarry · 10 months ago

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LCDrarry 2024 Master List Part 1: Podfic & Art & Fic

Dear lovely Participants, Creators, Alpha and Beta Readers, Cheerleaders, Readers and Fans of this fest,

The 6th installment of LCDrarry has come to an end, and we'd like to thank you all for taking part in this fest, for creating so many amazing new Drarry works for us all to enjoy, for commenting on your favourite creations, for sharing and recommending the LCDrarry gems with and to your friends and blog followers, and for making this fest another amazing experience for everybody!

Fests would not exist without their participants or readers! You're all amazing! And we're so happy that you chose this fest in the vast and wonderful offerings of HP and Drarry events.

You can find out under the cut who created what ;D

~Your LCDrarry Mods Tami (@celilasart) and Suzi (@erin-riwen)

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information and more detailed warnings. Thank you! PPS: You can find a link to Part 2 of this Master List under the cut. Enjoy!

Part 2 of this Master List with more lovely fics can be found here.

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Podfic

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A Mist That Appears (For a Little Time)

Prompt: “Sweet November,” 2001, Pat O’Connor Written by: dodgerkedavra Narrated by: reveriepi Podfic Length: 02:25:58 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Vomiting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary: “Give me November, and I’ll teach you to be happy. There’s only one condition. You must swear on your magic that you won’t fall in love with me.” Harry’s so tired. His whole body hurts. If Malfoy can teach him how to be happy, then... “Okay.” Harry is working himself to death. Draco only has November to help him. Falling in love is strictly against the rules.

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As You Wish

Prompt: "The Princess Bride", 1987, Rob Reiner Written by: Pineau_noir Narrated by: Cailynwrites Podfic Length: 02:31:28 Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Draco was raised on a farm in the small country of Witshire; his favourite pastimes were flying on his broom and tormenting the hired farm boy. Though his name was Harry, Draco never called him that. On Harry's forehead there was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt, so Draco called him Scarhead.

Nothing gave Draco as much pleasure as ordering Harry around.

Or a story about fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, and miracles.

***

The Pirc Defence

Prompt: "The Queen’s Gambit", 2019, Scott Frank Written by: sleepstxtic Narrated by: sweaters_in_the_summer Podfic Length: 01:05:00 Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

Summary: They were rivals, and they were lovers, and they were the greatest chess players of their generation. Exactly in that order.

***

My Big Fat Weasley Wedding

Prompt: “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”, 2002, Joel Zwick Written by: slyth_princess Narrated by: Melcarrianna Podfic Length: 07:17:21 Rating: Mature Warnings: None

Summary: A decade after the war, Harry Potter is lost. There was a time when he knew exactly who he was, where he was going, and what he wanted. He is not that man anymore. Until one day he decides he is done. No more wearing clothes that don't fit, stuck in a job that was meant to be temporary, and simply coasting through his life. He has a plan. And, unsurpisingly, every single Weasley and honourary Weasley seems to have an opinion about it. But it's fine. Harry knows he is doing the right thing.

What he didn't plan for, however, was to find love in the most unexpected place. And with the most unexpected person. Still, it's going to be fine. Like he said, he has a plan. Weasley opinions be damned. He's got it all under control. Doesn't he?

Featuring a million Weasleys, a daft labrador, and a whole bunch of people just trying to figure out their lives.

***

Art

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Draco's Moving Castle

Prompt: "Howl's Moving Castle", 2004, Hayao Miyazaki Artist: Averily Art Medium: Digital Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None

Summary: Art for LCDrarry2024 fest. Prompt was Howl's Moving Castle.

***

Go the Whole Wide World

Prompt: "Stranger than Fiction", 2006, Marc Forster Artists: julchen_in_red and m4g0rtz Medium: Digital Art Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None

Summary: When government employee Draco Crick was assigned to audit baker Harry Pascal, neither anticipated falling in love, but sometimes the person right next to you is the most welcome surprise.

***

[Art] A Game of Horcruxes

Prompt: "Game of Thrones", 2011, David Benioff Artist: fantalf Art Medium: Digital Art Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Duelling, Horcruxes, Blood and Injury

Summary: Art Post for "A Game of Horcruxes" written by sleepstxtic.

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Illustrated Fic

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[Fic & Art] A Game of Horcruxes

Prompt: "Game of Thrones", 2011, David Benioff Author: sleepstxtic Word Count: 118,635 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Brief Descriptions of Injury, Racism, Classism

Summary: It has been centuries since an attack on the castle of a royal scion. Centuries, until now.

The Realm of Hogwarts is ruled by eight noble Slytherin families, aided by their Gryffindor armies. Each kingdom possesses a Horcrux—the most precious source of magic to the throne. But when the Kingdom of Malfoy finds their Horcrux stolen, Prince Draco must break all protocol and enlist the help of a commoner, Harry, to find what's missing. All the while, an evil beyond the horizon stirs, Dementor attacks are increasing, and civil unrest is burning across the land. Can Draco and Harry recover the Horcrux and save the realm? And will they be able to resist their growing attraction to each other in the meantime?

***

A Ferret, a ScarHead, a Weasel, and a Baby

Prompt: "Three Men and a Baby", 1987, Leonard Nimoy & "Taken", 2008, Pierre Morel Author: trishjames Word Count: 91,420 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Angst, Anxiety, Epic Fight Scene(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Hand-to-Hand Combat, Blood, Muggle Weapons, References to Past Child Abuse, Abduction, Injuries

Summary: They say becoming a parent is an unparalleled, priceless joy. Draco Malfoy finds himself putting that theory to the test when the star witness in his dangerous illegal potions case entrusts him with a powerful wish: protect her newborn baby at all costs. Now, it's up to Draco to fulfill that wish despite the looming threat of criminals hunting for the child. To think, just the day before, he was fretting over his inappropriate feelings for his annoying, bespectacled git of a housemate—not the mechanics of changing nappies!

Thank Merlin it takes a village to raise a sack of flour, ah, child.

***

Fic

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White, Blonde & British

Prompt: “Red, White & Royal Blue”, 2023, Matthew Lopez Author: SortofShea Word Count: 40,058 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Mentions of death, drug and alcohol use and abuse, homophobia, racism, discrimination

Summary: Prince Draco Malfoy is known all over the world as “The Modern Day Prince Charming”, ask anyone - well, anyone except for Harry Potter, first son of the Indian president and (self) sworn rival of said stuck-up, snobbish prince.

***

drag the past out into the light

Prompt: "Se7en", 1995, David Fincher Author: ChaosBitch Word Count: 20,796 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Summary: There's a serial killer stalking magical London. The murders are gruesome, bizarre, and somehow connected to the Voldemort wars. Auror Harry Potter is paired up with an analyst from the Department of Mysteries to piece together the clues in the killer's unsettling game before they kill again.

The good news? This analyst is the best one on offer. The bad news? It's Draco Malfoy.

***

the beating of our hearts (is the only sound)

Prompt: "Pacific Rim", 2013, Guillermo del Toro Author: Pineau_noir Word Count: 12,675 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: canon (Pacific Rim) creature grossness

Summary: Do you want awesome, kickass fights between giant robots and aliens??!?!?

Go watch Pacific Rim.

This is a story about two flawed men who fall in love during an apocalypse.

***

Draco Malfoy's New Guide to Old-Fashioned Dating

Prompt: "How to Lose a Guy in 10 days", 2003, Donald Petrie Author: caliowl Word Count: 52,377 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Non-Consensual Drug Use

Summary: When Harry's job as an auror is threatened by his perceived negative attitude towards Death Eaters, he makes a desperate gamble with his boss to save it. Bring a Death Eater as his plus-one to the company holiday party. Unfortunately for him, there's only one person he can think of to ask...

Meanwhile, in order to save his best friend Pansy Parkinson from a terrible social fate, Draco Malfoy makes a bet with Pansy's mother. He believes that old-fashioned, traditional courting methods are the best way to repel, not attract, a potential suitor. Now, if only he can find a wizard who has no clue about those methods...

***

Black Sheep

Prompt: "Shaun the Sheep", 2007-2020 Author: shushu_yaoi_lj Word Count: 10,808 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: smut, dirty talk, praise kink, soft d/s dynamics, begging

Summary: “You know, Potter, maybe all you need to win is a little—incentive, let’s say.” “An incentive?” Harry asks, his interest piqued. He takes a step closer to the fence, and then another one, until he’s standing so close that he can smell the intoxicating scent of Malfoy’s expensive cologne. “Shall we say that if you win, you can have whatever your heart desires?” Malfoy replies with a smile. “Anything.”

***

Jackknife To The Heart

Prompt: "Mad Max: Furiosa", 2024, George Miller Author: sleepstxtic Word Count: 11,723 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Gunfights

Summary: Draco licked his lips, slow and sensual. He climbed over Harry’s lap and slid down onto his knees. “Keep making love to me, darling,” he said, gazing up at Harry, something starry in his eyes; and then he pulled down Harry’s pants and took his cock in his mouth.

Harry sucked in a breath, threw the shifter into gear, and drove.

***

First Impressions

Prompt: "Pride and Prejudice", 2005, Joe Wright Author: ActuallyMoon Word Count: 87,934 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Period-typical racism and colourism (only present in one chapter), A/B/O dynamics, Dubious Consent, Classism, Smut, Mpreg

Summary: At the Shacklebolts' ball, Ginny found herself irrevocably smitten at first sight with Ms Pansy Parkinson. Meanwhile, her brother, Harry Potter, became the unfortunate target of biting remarks from Parkinson's haughty and aloof best friend, Mr Draco Malfoy. Harry's disdain for Mr Malfoy grew, fuelled by the latter's evident arrogance. Amidst this burgeoning animosity, Ms Romilda Vane began to spread malicious rumours regarding Malfoy, further tarnishing his reputation. Yet, the true nature of his character was far from what these tales suggested. Could Draco overcome his pride and Harry his prejudice, allowing love to blossom between them despite the odds?

***

Obscuro

Prompt: "Love is Blind", 2020 Author: stratigraphy Word Count: 35,227 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

Summary: Draco is grieving. His conversation partner is here against his will. It's a shameless rip-off of an insipid Muggle reality dating show. Hardly the occasion for true love, if you ask Draco. feat. a cat named Marmalade, a bird named Mumble, Lee Jordan's answer to Love is Blind, and two best friends who only want their dads to be happy.

***

Eternalism is a Never Ending Day

Prompt: "Russian Doll", 2019 Author: JK_Terfling_Can_Suck_My_Silicone_Dick Word Count: 25,970 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Temporary Suicide, Temporary MCD, implied/referenced Depression

Summary: Malfoy has been reliving the same day for longer than he can keep track of now, and has just assumed that he was dead in the real world, which was fine to him. It isn't until the time loop stops doing what he expects that it occurs to him that maybe there's something else going on.

***

Part 2 of this Master List with more lovely fics can be found here.

As always, reblogs here on tumblr are very much appreciated to share all the wonderful works of LCDrarry with more people. But of course, please also shower our creators with comments and kudos on AO3 ;D Thank you! Read you next year ;)

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