#that shot of alex is just obscene

[yrsonpurpose]

#an otp that can do both [x]

[forever-fixating]

RWRB Appreciation Month Bingo: Female Character(s)

For @rwrbsource and @rwrbmovie's RWRB Appreciation Month Bingo: Female Character(s)

Female Character(s)- Bea, June, and Nora

Author's Note: I love the girls so much. I love how unique each one is and how they provide lovely support for the guys. (Bea's speech to Alex after the outing is really beautiful and one of my favorite moments from the book.) This is just a silly bit of fluff that turned into a wedding quartet! Enjoy!

"Why does it feel like this state is punishing its residents for living here?"

June snorted a laugh at the vaguely annoyed expression on Bea's face. It wasn't her first time in Texas and wouldn't be her last since Alex and Henry moved from New York. The big day was a week away, and the three women were "enjoying" a quiet moment at the Diaz lakehouse before everything descended into wedding madness.

"One of life's unanswerable questions," Nora mumbled, her head in June's lap. "Like who shot Kennedy or why some people like pineapple on pizza."

Bea then looked perplexed. "I thought that Oswald bloke shot him?"

Nora pushed her sunglasses onto her forehead. "That's what they want you to believe."

"Behave," June sighed, smacking Nora's forehead lightly. "Keep acting like that, and she is gonna convince H to pack it up and head back to England."

"I'd have better luck convincing Pip to wear a dress to the ceremony," Bea said. "Did you see Eloise's flower girl dress? Maz sent me a video of her practicing her petal scattering technique. The gardener at their residence is beside himself because she won't stop ripping petals off flowers."

June and Nora moved closer and cooed over the video of the tiny five-year-old in a dress with a white bodice and a tutu skirt, each layer of different shades of pink. She held a basket full of white rose petals and took patient steps down a path in the garden, pausing with each step to let a fistful of petals fall delicately to the ground.

"Stop, that's so adorable!" June squealed.

Nora snapped her fingers in approval. "Little Miss El said, 'Uncle Al and Uncle H may be the ones getting married, but this is my moment to shine!'"

Bea locked her phone with a smirk. "I've taught her well. Can we head inside? I may perish if I stay in this heat for a moment later."

June loved hanging out with Bea. After the dust settled, the three women enjoyed getting together for girls-only weekends without the boys for mani-pedis, spa days, and marathons of whatever reality show social media deemed the most unhinged. It was frivolous and fun. Growing up, June always wanted a little sister. That didn't mean she hated having Alex as a little brother, but sharing a bathroom with a boy was gross. Walking in and finding a sweaty jock strap hanging off the shower rod. Showering after him and having no hot water because he took forever to "get extra clean" like she didn't know about masturbation. Going off to college at UT was a bunch needed break from the testosterone tornado that was Alex Claremont-Diaz.

Inside the lakehouse, Bea opened a bottle of sparkling water and poured each a glass, saying, "If you're up for it, I bought some obscenely expensive face masks for us to try. The new season of Too Hot to Handle looks fully bizarre. I think if I auditioned for it, that might finally be the thing that takes my Gran out."

When the boys returned from Austin with dinner, they found them in pajamas, each with a mask on, trying not to laugh too much as a dentist hygienist Marcie made out with Maxx, a naked personal trainer, in a hot tub to make Jake, a bodybuilder, jealous.

"Why do you three always do this without us?" Alex whined as they headed to the kitchen.

"Girl time, little bit," June called out. "Now be a good feminist and bring us dinner! Jake is about to walk in on Marcie and Maxx, and I will not pause."

Alex started to argue, but Henry said, "Best not to argue, love. Everything will be all about us soon enough."

"Listen to your man, Alejandro!" Nora said. "If you're really nice, I'm sure your future sister-in-law will provide your very own face mask so you'll look extra pretty on your wedding day."

June glanced at Bea, who shrugged and said, "Maybe. But only if Alexander remembered the extra queso this time!"

A/N- Like I said, silly silly fluff! I can't believe this month is almost over!

Check out this post and join the fun in celebrating the one-year anniversary of our little romcom that could being released!

[porcelainmortal]

✨ and imma let you choose the pairing you want to write for, for ficlet Friday!

Thanks for the ask, Nico!!

I went with firstprince (of course) and a college au. Hope you enjoy!

✨ Make You Mine - Firstprince

Let it never be said that Alex Claremont-Diaz doesn’t go after what he wants. And right now, what he wants is to kiss the lips of the gorgeous blond across the room at this frat party. So what if he thought he was mostly straight until a few minutes ago? And so what if the only guy he’s kissed before tonight was his best friend in high school, who’s now openly gay and doesn’t talk to him anymore? It’s all ancient history, as far as Alex is concerned, because right now, all he can think about is what those lips would feel like and taste like between his own.

“Henry Fox,” the girl to his right says. 

“Hm?”

“The blond guy you’re staring at? That’s Henry Fox. He’s in my Historical Women’s Lit class.”

“Oh,” Alex replies, taking a fortifying sip of his drink. He can’t even taste it anymore.

“He’s gorgeous, right? Pretty sure he’s gay,” she sighs forlornly. Alex’s heart leaps into his throat. “He has a rainbow pride flag pin on his backpack and my best friend Josh said he got a blowjob from him once.”

“Was it any good?”

“What?”

“What,” Alex says quickly, as if he’s not suddenly picturing those lips wrapped around his own cock. That would be obscene, especially while standing in the middle of a crowded room talking to a girl from his Econ class whose name he can’t remember. Megan? Maggie– Mags? Something along those lines.

“Are you into him?”

No, but I’d like to be, his brain supplies unhelpfully.

“Um,” Alex hedges, drawing the word out. The longer he stares at Henry, smiling and laughing with a couple of people, the more impossible he finds it to deny. “Yeah. Yup, I’m into him.”

“Well? What’re you waiting for?”

Alex glances at the girl, staring at him with raised eyebrows and an expectant look on her face. Suddenly, he realizes that she was about to ask him a question earlier, before the conversation got sidetracked. He remembers thinking she was pretty, and then Henry had walked into the room.

“I’m so sorry, you were going to ask me something.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I was going to ask you out. I thought you were straight. But then I saw the way you were looking at him, and I knew my chances were shot.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex winces. “I think I’m bi.”

“You think?” She asks, laughing again, more gently this time.

“Yeah… it’s new? But also, definitely not new.” Alex looks back over at Henry, who glances up at that moment and catches Alex staring. Holy shit, his eyes are so blue. “Yep. Bi.”

“Well, go get ‘im, tiger,” she says, slapping him on the arm. “I’m gonna go get another drink and find out if Rob from class is single.”

“See ya,” Alex nods as he starts making his way across the room. 

Henry holds eye contact as Alex makes his way over, which he takes as a good sign. One of Henry’s companions stepped away at some point, but there is an attractive black man at his side who’s grinning widely in Alex’s peripheral. 

“Hi there,” Alex offers with a smile, trying to come off as smooth despite how his heart is hammering his ribcage. 

“Hello,” Henry says softly.

“I, uh… wanted to introduce myself. My name’s Alex.” Alex switches his Solo cup to left hand and holds out his right. Henry takes it, his palm warm and soft in Alex’s grip.  

“Nice to meet you, I’m Henry Fox,” he replies in a smooth accent. 

“Fuck me,” Alex breathes. 

“Sorry?”

The man to Henry’s left is still smiling and looking between them like he’s watching a particularly exciting tennis match. 

“Sorry. I just, uh… wasn’t expecting the accent.”

“Oh,” Henry nods. Alex registers that they’re still holding hands and releases Henry from his grip.

“I’ll leave you to it,” the dark-skinned man says, tossing Henry a look before stepping away. 

Alex feels kind of bad about his manners, having completely ignored the other guy, but he’s on a mission here. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink with me?” Henry looks down to where they are both holding cups with liquid in them. Alex follows his gaze and chuckles. “You know what I mean.”

Henry looks at Alex for a beat, his gaze heating as blue eyes bore into him.

“I’d love to, Alex.”

And, okay, there is no fucking reason for him to say Alex’s name like that, unless his palm is also still tingling from when they touched and sending electric sparks straight to his groin. Alex smiles and reaches for Henry’s hand again. 

“Let’s go, sweetheart.”

Let it never be said that Alex Claremont-Diaz doesn’t go after what he wants.

Ficlet Friday Prompts

[sophie1973]

Let me kiss and make it better

A little Birthday fic written for my darling Kim @kj-bee ❤️(2.9k of fluff)

Can be read on AO3 or under the cut

The atmosphere inside the O2 Arena is electric, with anticipation hanging in the air as fans from around the globe fill the stands, waving flags and chanting. The field, a flawless expanse of green, awaits the start of one of the most eagerly anticipated matches of the World Cup. 

It's the quarter-finals, and the UK is set to face off against the US.

Alex is doing some last-minute stretching while half-listening to his teammates' banter. His gaze flickers discreetly to the opposing team—more specifically, to their captain.

Henry Fox.

This isn't Alex's first encounter with Henry on the field—not by a long shot. Henry is an incredible player, and Alex's competitive spirit thrives on the challenge of having such a formidable opponent. 

He just wishes Henry weren't so distracting.

He's half-tempted to draft a strongly worded letter to FIFA about it. Because seriously—those thighs in those shorts? It's obscene. Bordering on illegal. Fucking Criminal.

The teams start to line up, and Alex jogs on the field, meeting Henry at the center circle. The referee, holding the match ball, stands between them, and Henry extends his hand for Alex to shake, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes and a playful grin on his lips.

“Ready to get your ass kicked, Fox?” Alex asks good-naturedly, and Henry shakes his head, chuckling.

“Famous last words, darling.”

The referee goes over the rules, emphasizing fair play, while the captains nod in acknowledgment. Alex, having heard it all countless times before, instead focuses on how the blue of his football jersey enhances Henry’s azure eyes, or the sheen of sweat over Henry's upper lip and the beauty mark nearby. Alex briefly wonders how much chaos it would cause if he leaned in for a kiss.

He really needs to get it together.

A few lewd whistles from the crowd punctuate their handshake. The press and fans have speculated about the nature of their relationship for years. Some days, they’re painted as bitter rivals; other times, rumors swirl of them being secret lovers—just because they’ve been spotted laughing and sharing a drink at events.

Apparently, simply being friends who enjoy each other’s company is too dull for the public imagination.

The shrill blast of whistles pierces the air, signaling the start of the football match and sending a wave of excitement through the packed stadium. Alex catches Henry's eye across the field as players swiftly take their positions. With a subtle, confident smirk, Alex delivers a playful wink. The gesture has its intended effect; a soft blush blooms across Henry's fair cheeks, visible even from a distance. Inwardly pleased with this small victory, Alex's chest swells with pride as the match begins in earnest.

The first quarter-hour unfolds like a choreographed dance, with both teams testing the waters with cautious passes and strategic positioning. The cacophony of cheers from the stands fades into a distant hum as Alex's mind whirs, plotting the perfect strategy to breach their opponents' stubborn defenses.

Suddenly, an opening presents itself. Spencer executes a brilliant maneuver, and the ball reaches Alex's feet. In an instant, he's off, a blur of motion as he weaves through the opposition's defensive line. He darts past Henry, their eyes meeting for a split second, charged with competitive energy. Alex pushes on, his legs pumping furiously as he races towards the goal.

The next minute, Alex finds himself flat on his back, the lush grass cushioning his fall. A searing pain explodes from his ankle, radiating up his leg in agonizing waves. He clutches at it instinctively.

The piercing sound of the referee's whistle cuts through the sudden roar of the crowd. Through watering eyes, Alex sees the official reaching into his pocket, producing a yellow card, which he brandishes towards the English player who tackled him.

Alex hasn’t even seen him coming.

The game comes to a standstill as Alex’s teammates and some British players gather around him. He grimaces, watching his ankle begin to swell rapidly. A hand touches his shoulder, accompanied by a British voice asking, “Alex, are you alright?”

Lifting his head, Alex meets Henry's concerned blue eyes.

“Yeah, the game’s over for me. Fuck,” Alex mutters.

Henry’s expression falls, and Alex feels a jolt in his chest. Henry should be relieved by this turn of events, not upset. Losing their captain and one of their best players—his coach's words, not Alex’s—is a significant blow to the U.S. team.

“I called for a gurney,” Spencer interjects, and Alex nods, a heavy sigh escaping him. He tries to focus on the throbbing pain in his ankle rather than the crushing disappointment of seeing things coming to an abrupt end for him. He had been eager to win this game and lead his team into the semifinals. They were supposed to face the Belgian Red Devils, and Alex, who had been friends with their captain Kevin for years, was looking forward to the match.

Now, even if his team manages to pull off a win—and Alex is convinced they can do it—he doubts he'll recover in time for the semi-finals in just three days. The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, and he struggles to maintain his composure as the reality of his situation sinks in.

Alex extends his hands to Liam, who grasps his arm firmly. With Spencer's assistance, they cautiously attempt to hoist Alex to his feet. The moment his injured foot grazes the ground, a sharp, unbearable pain shoots through his leg, and he lets out an involuntary cry.

“Where on earth is that gurney?” Spencer mutters in frustration. Alex shares his concern, desperately wanting to leave this fucking field and escape the prying eyes so he can indulge in a moment of self-pity in the privacy of the infirmary.

Before he can process what's happening, strong arms encircle him, and his feet leave the ground. Startled, he finds himself cradled against a firm chest, looking up into Henry's determined face.

"Enough of this," Henry says, his voice low and authoritative. "We're not waiting for the gurney."

Alex opens his mouth to protest, but the words die in his throat. Henry’s arms are secure around him, one supporting his back and the other carefully cradling his legs, mindful of the injured ankle. Despite the circumstances, Alex can't help but notice how effortlessly Henry seems to carry him. He also notices Henry still smells really good despite having run across a football field for the past twenty-five minutes.

A hush falls over the stadium as Henry strides purposefully towards the sidelines. Cameras flash, capturing this unexpected moment between the rival players. Alex can already imagine the headlines, but right now, he's too grateful for the relief from pain to care.

"Couldn't resist playing the knight in shining armor, could you?" Alex quips, his voice a mix of gratitude and exasperation

Henry's lips quirk into a mischievous smile. "I could always bend you over my shoulder instead if you'd prefer," he suggests, his tone playful.

Alex's mind stutters to a halt, fixating on the words 'bend' and 'over.' His imagination runs wild with far less innocent interpretations, none of which involve Henry’s shoulder. 

The momentary distraction from the pain is almost worth the mental whiplash.

Regaining his composure, Alex mutters, "You know this is going to set the rumor mill on fire, right?"

And Henry, the cheeky bastard, grins. “I’m very well aware of that, love.”

Alex tries—and fails spectacularly—to suppress a shiver at the endearment, earning a knowing smirk from the Brit.

"Oh, shut up," Alex grumbles, his cheeks flushing.

Henry's rich laughter fills the air, and Alex can practically see the social media storm brewing. Tomorrow's headlines are going to be relentless.

As Henry gently lowers Alex onto the infirmary bed, a doctor and nurse immediately spring into action. After a thorough examination, they declare his ankle sprained, not broken. Despite having suspected as much, Alex can't help but feel a wave of relief wash over him. The doctor, however, insists on precautionary X-rays at the hospital.

"I'm not going anywhere now," Alex protests. "I need to see how the game ends."

The doctor sighs, obviously accustomed to stubborn football players. "Very well, Mr. Claremont-Diaz, but I strongly advise you go first thing tomorrow morning."

Alex nods noncommittally, flashing a grateful smile at the nurse - her badge says her name is Kim -  who turns on the TV, allowing him to follow the match.

Henry lingers by the bedside, his face etched with concern. "I'm truly sorry about this, Alex," he says softly.

Alex attempts a casual shrug, wincing slightly. "Not your fault, sweetheart," he reassures, the endearment slipping out before he can catch it. The painkillers are starting to kick in, dulling the throbbing in his ankle and loosening his tongue. He finds himself fighting the urge to ask Henry to stay, to sit beside him and hold his hand. Not exactly the right time.

"Basil's reckless move caused this," Henry explains, his jaw tightening with frustration.

Alex blinks, momentarily distracted from his thoughts. "Hold up. His name is Basil? I got steamrolled by a guy named after an herb? What kind of fucking posh nonsense is this, Henry?"

A smile tugs at Henry's lips, breaking through his concern. "’Steamrolled’ might be a tad dramatic, but he certainly did a number on you."

Their eyes meet, and they exchange a smile. The spell is broken when one of Henry's teammates bursts through the door, looking exasperated.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, Henry? The entire team's waiting for you to resume the match!"

Henry's posture straightens, and his voice takes on a crisp, authoritative tone that sends a shiver down Alex's spine. "I'll be there momentarily," he says, the subtle rebuke clear in his words.

Alex finds it incredibly hot.

Turning back to Alex, Henry's expression softens, a mix of concern and reluctance in his eyes. "Duty calls. Are you certain you'll be alright?"

Alex can't help but roll his eyes, though there's no real annoyance behind it. “Yes, mom. It’s a sprained ankle, not the ebola virus. Go. You have a game to lose.”

A smile tugs at Henry’s lips.“I’ll see you after the game.”

Alex gestures at his leg. “I ain’t going anywhere, baby.”

The nurse's eyebrows shoot up at their exchange, her gaze darting between them with poorly concealed interest. Henry catches her look and clears his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Right. See you later, then.”

Alex grins. He has no doubt this exchange will be all over Twitter tomorrow.

                                                      🇬🇧 ⚽ 🇺🇸

As the final whistle blows, announcing Henry's team's victory, Alex finds himself oddly detached from the outcome. The events of the evening, coupled with the hazy effects of pain medication, have left him drained. All he can think about is the allure of home – a hot shower, a comfortable bed, and the promise of rest.

He drifts in and out of consciousness, the sounds of the post-game excitement a distant hum. When he finally forces his eyes open, he's greeted by the sight of Henry standing at the foot of the bed, showered, dressed, and holding a pair of crutches.

He’s a sight for sore eyes.

“Congrats on the win,” Alex says, rubbing at his eyes. “Guess you were the best.” 

Henry's lips quirk into a soft smile as he leans the crutches against a nearby wheelchair. He moves to perch on the edge of Alex's bed, close enough that Alex can smell his subtle, expensive cologne.

"Alex," Henry says, his voice gentle, "we both know the outcome might have been vastly different if you'd been on that field."

Despite his fatigue, Alex can't help but grin. "Learn to take a compliment, Fox," he retorts. "It's not often I stroke your ego; you should savor it."

Henry's mouth opens, then closes, as if he's weighing his words carefully. Something flickers in his eyes, but it's gone before Alex can decipher it.

"I'm taking you home," Henry announces instead, his tone brooking no argument.

Alex's eyebrows shoot up, a smirk playing on his lips. "My, my. Not even dinner first?”

Henry rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of amusement beneath his exasperation. "You're a menace, Claremont-Diaz, and you're in desperate need of a shower. So, you have two options: get your arse in that wheelchair and let me ensure you get home safely, or attempt to navigate the nearest tube station on those crutches. Your choice."

The authoritative tone in Henry's voice, now directed squarely at him, sends an unexpected thrill through Alex.

"I'm sure Liam or Spencer can take me home," he counters weakly, more out of habit than genuine protest.

"They came by earlier, but you were asleep," Henry explains. "I assured them I'd see you home safely, so they've left. They'll check on you tomorrow."

Alex sighs dramatically, though internally, he's not as put out as he pretends to be. "Guess that leaves me no choice but to accept your gracious offer, then."

A slow, triumphant grin spreads across Henry's face. "Good boy," he says, his voice low and teasing.

The words hit Alex with unexpected force, sending a jolt of heat coursing through him. He bites his lower lip hard, barely suppressing a moan that threatens to escape. The sudden intensity of his reaction catches him off guard, leaving him breathless and slightly dizzy.

Acutely aware of the bustle of activity just outside the infirmary door, Alex forces himself to take a steadying breath. They've already provided enough fodder for gossip tonight; the last thing they need is for someone to overhear something that could be easily misconstrued.

"Right," he manages to croak out, his voice slightly strained. "Let's get this show on the road."

                                                              🇬🇧 ⚽ 🇺🇸

“Oh Christ…Alex!”

With a breathless laugh, Henry collapses onto Alex's chest, supporting himself on his forearms to avoid crushing him. Alex, however, wraps his arms around Henry's back, pulling their bodies flush together as they share a deep, lazy kiss, their bodies still trembling slightly from the force of their shared orgasm.

“Told you I could still rock your world, even with a sprained ankle,” Alex says, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face. Henry responds with a soft, affectionate chuckle.

As they bask in the afterglow, Alex can't help but think that no amount of World Cup victories could ever compare to the rush of endorphins he experiences when having sex with Henry.

Henry reluctantly disentangles himself from Alex's embrace and heads to the bathroom. The sound of running water reaches Alex's ears as he takes his phone on the nightstand, idly scrolling through his social media feeds.

Returning with a damp washcloth, Henry begins to clean Alex. "Let me guess," he says, "my prince charming moment is trending online?"

Alex snorts. "What did you expect? You might as well have tattooed 'Property of Henry Fox' across my forehead."

Henry's eyes sparkle with mischief. "Now there's an idea."

"Keep dreaming, Fox," Alex retorts, rolling his eyes fondly.

"That's Fox-Claremont-Diaz to you, darling," Henry corrects him, leaning in for another kiss.

Alex takes his hand, pressing a soft kiss on the rose gold band that found its rightful place on Henry’s finger after the game. They returned to their apartment in London - a convenient haven when participating in the World Cup hosted in England. After a shower for Alex and a light snack, they fell back into bed, where Alex convinced Henry that a little post-game celebration was in order, even if one of the two parties involved had lost.

“So it’s celebratory sex for me and consolation sex for you?” Henry had  inquired with a raised eyebrow.

Alex had grinned and shrugged. “As long as we both get our happy ending, you can call it whatever you want, baby.”

Henry climbs back on the bed and snuggles with his husband. The atmosphere shifts subtly, becoming more soft and tender.

"Should we tell people?" Alex finally broaches the subject, and Henry exhales softly.

“I mean, I’m not opposed to it. Shaan and Zahra suggested we wait until after the Cup frenzy died, but…”

“Yeah, but now they are married too, so I don’t think we should listen to them anymore.”

Alex turns to face Henry, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. "I'm ready for the world to know you're mine," he whispers, and the radiant smile blooming on Henry's lips lets him know that the feeling is wholeheartedly mutual.

"How do you want to do it?" Alex asks. "Should we ease into it or go for a hard launch?"

Henry pretends to ponder, though Alex knows his answer. He shakes his head fondly as Henry gives him a brilliant smile.

"I want to break the internet."

***

A few days later, Alex's Instagram features a new post. 

The image captures their pajama-clad legs intertwined on the sofa, with David, Henry's dog, snoozing contently beside them. In the background, slightly out of focus but unmistakable, are their football jerseys draped over a chair, proudly displaying their names and numbers.

The caption reads: “I lost the World Cup, but I won at life.” 

Photo credit: Hubby @hgfoxofficial. 

[lestappenforever]

Ooh 14!!! For the prompt :)

Ohhhhh, thank you so much. ♥

And I'm sorry, this turned out so fucking stupid and silly.

---

14. “No one’s ever… for you before?” “Never.” ~ Lestappen

It comes up in a completely random conversation that actually has nothing at all to do with the topic.

It's the night following the Japanese Grand Prix 2023, and Charles is sitting in the lounge of the incredibly fancy hotel Ferrari and several of the others teams are staying in for their stint at Suzuka. He's nursing a beer, leaning back into the incredibly soft and comfortable chair he's been occupying for the past hour and a half.

To his right, Carlos, Lando and Oscar are sprawled out on one couch, while Pierre, Esteban, Alex and Checo are occupying a more reasonable amount of space each on the couch to Charles' left.

There's a long, low table between all of them and directly across from Charles, at the other end of said table, Max is sprawled out in a chair identical to Charles' own. He has one leg hanging over one arm of the chair and he's balancing his bottle of beer on the thigh of his other leg, which is stretched out on the floor.

He looks almost obscenely comfortable, Charles thinks to himself, and then immediately pretends like that thought never popped up in his head.

They're talking about the race and their plans for the coming week off before the race in Qatar at the beginning of October, when Lando suddenly looks at Max.

"Hey, your birthday is this coming week, right?" the McLaren driver asks, sitting up a little straighter in his seat.

Max nods as he takes a swig of his beer.

"Saturday," the Dutchman confirms casually, as if it's nothing special.

Given how their birthdays are only 16 days apart, Charles knows very well when Max's birthday is. But, it hadn't registered in his brain that Max's birthday - and his own, he might add - are actually just around the corner.

"Do you have any big plans?" Charles asks, and the rest of their group now has their attention locked on Max, who shrugs.

"Not really. Daniel is trying to convince me to let him host another one of his ridiculous parties, but I'm honestly still traumatized from last year."

There's a collective mutter of agreement at that, as every driver sitting around this table remembers Max's birthday party from last year. There had been an obscene amount of suspicious-looking jello shots that Daniel had been weirdly insistent on serving all night, a broken glass table, and a very angry goose who had chased Lando into the pool and then disappeared off into the night.

To this day, nobody knows — or will admit to knowing — where the goose came from.

(The goose had been found safe and sound the following morning, and returned to its flock.)

Lando visibly shudders, as if the memory still haunts him.

"So, just a simple celebration with breakfast in bed, then?" Oscar suggests.

Something crosses Max's face at that, but only briefly. Max is schooling his expression into something unbothered mere moments later, assuming nobody noticed. "Something like that."

Charles, however, does notice, but he doesn't ask because Lando is already moving on to the next topic that catches his interest, which just so happens to be anime. And Charles decides to nope the fuck out of that conversation before it even starts.

Max seems to have the same idea, pushing himself upright and getting to his feet. "Anyone want something more to drink?" he asks, taking note of the number of raised hands before disappearing in the direction of the bar.

"I'll help," Charles says as he scrambles to get out his chair and half-jogs to catch up with Max.

They stand at the bar, waiting for the bartender to get their drinks ready, Max leaning his forearms on the bar top and drumming his fingers slowly against the mahogany. Charles is standing next to him, with his back towards the bar.

"What's with the breakfast in bed thing?" the Monégasque asks casually.

"What?" Max responds, and Charles can feel those blue eyes on him.

"Back there," Charles says, nodding in the direction of their group. "When Oscar asked about you celebrating at home with breakfast in bed, your face did a thing."

The word is emphasized by a vague hand gesture in the air.

Max raises an eyebrow at him. "My face did a thing?" he echoes, snorting.

Charles rolls his eyes.

"Yes, your face did a thing. Like the mention of it bothered you," Charles tells him, turning his head so he can look at Max. He narrows his eyes at the Dutchman. "You're not one of those psychos who doesn't like getting breakfast served in bed on your birthday, are you?"

Max barks a surprised laugh, which makes Charles smile, and his heart do a little flutter in his chest.

Which, okay, he kind of thought he'd successfully pushed his feelings for Max far enough down that he could ignore them altogether, but that apparently doesn't apply when Max laughs.

Damn Max Verstappen and his stupid, gorgeous laugh.

The sound dies down quickly, though, and Max's expression shifts into something more sombre. Almost sad.

"I've just never actually had anyone serve me breakfast in bed on my birthday before. Or at any other time, for that matter," he admits, voice a little more quiet than before.

Charles gapes at him. "What? Sure you have."

Max shrugs for what seems like the millionth time that night.

"My exes have all been vocally opposed to any food items in bed," he explains, frowning a little. "And my father never believed birthdays were worth celebrating, because a birthday is not a victory."

It's Charles' turn to frown, then.

"What about your mom?" he asks carefully.

"Like I said, my dad didn't believe birthdays were worth celebrating. He didn't exactly give my mom much of a chance to argue with him," Max explains, as if that's normal. As if that's healthy.

"So, no one's ever served you breakfast in bed on your birthday before?"

"Never."

That should not break Charles' heart the way it does.

Their conversation comes to an end when the bartender puts the last of their drinks on the counter in front of them, and Max grabs half of the bottles.

"Come on, if we don't go back soon, Lando will start a riot," Max tells him, the seriousness of the moment seemingly forgotten.

But Charles hasn't forgotten, even as he picks up the last of the bottles and follows Max back to the others.

---

When Max opens the door at 10:15PM on Friday, September 29th, he doesn't expect to see Charles Leclerc standing on the other side with a bag full of groceries.

And yet, that's exactly the sight that greets him.

"Hi," Charles greets him as he makes his way into Max's apartment without actually waiting for Max to invite him in.

Which, rude.

"Hi?" Max asks him as he shuts the front door and locks it.

When he turns, Charles has already made it into his kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" Max asks as he joins the Monégasque in his kitchen, leaning against the door frame and watching as Charles is already in the process of unloading the groceries onto the kitchen counter.

Eggs, bacon, a wide array of different bread rolls, chocolate, and what looks like the entire baking section of the Carrefour just down the street from Max's building.

"Tomorrow is your birthday, and I am going to make you breakfast in bed," Charles announces, as if that was blatantly obvious.

Max just atares at him.

"And —," Charles continues, turning to Max and holding up a massive bag of flour in one hand, and a box of cream cheese in the other. "— I'm going to make you birthday cupcakes."

Max blinks repeatedly, as if that's going to help him understand the situation. Or make Charles disappear, because Max must be hallucinating this.

Neither of which end up happening.

"But Charles, you can't cook," is the only thing Max can think to say.

Charles would feel hurt, if Max wasn't absolutely right.

"Yeah, well, you've gone 25 years without getting breakfast in bed on your birthday and I'm not about to let that become 26. So you'll just have to shut up and settle," the Monégasque says, grinning widely at Max.

Max continues to stare at him. Charles takes that as his approval because he puts the flour and cream cheese down and starts opening cabinets and drawers to find bowls and utensils and whatever the hell else he needs to make bake cupcakes, making himself right at home.

Max is powerless to do anything but sit at the kitchen table and watch.

And even as he watches Charles almost burn down his kitchen three times in the process and the cupcakes come out burnt to a crisp on top and somehow still liquid on the bottom, Max has never felt more loved.

[thegreymoon]

I am really not the target demographic for Red, White and Royal Blue and honestly, the entire premise sounds dumb af from where I'm sitting, but all the gifs that crossed my dash looked hilarious and that main actor is beyond gorgeous, so I am going to give it a shot tonight. My expectations are so low, that unless this movie gets a shovel and starts digging, there is no chance it cannot exceed them. I am so ready to eat my words, just give me some pretty people, mindless fluff and basic comedy and I will be happy, I swear!

***

TWO FUCKING HOURS?

You guys, I'm going to be honest here, I don't think I have it in me to sit through this 😭😭

***

LOL, only a younger brother 🤣🤣 They did not have the guts to go all in and make him the heir to the throne.

Also, lol @ "Prince of England's hearts" but even more so at "whom all the world adores" 🤣🤣 I cannot. I am absolutely not the target demographic for this and I don't think I have it in me to just go along with this, fictional British royal family or not. Who speaks like this? Who even believes it?

Anyway. Abolish the monarchy, Guillotine them all. Long live the glorious revolution!

***

LMFAO 🤣🤣

Well, at least he looks equally disgusted.

If we can't off the royal family, how about we just off this news announcer? Because I am getting so much second-hand embarrassment.

***

LMAO, OK, he gets ONE point 🤣🤣

OK, fine, two points, because he is stupid beautiful and the reason I sat down to watch this in the first place ����

***

Yassss, girlfriend has great taste!

I'm two minutes in and so far, she's my favourite. I would totally watch a two-hour movie of her touring London and giving commentary on the yumminess of various guys she encounters.

***

LMAO, is he going to get hammered and smash the obscene 75-thousand-pound cake? 🤣🤣

Because why else would they mention that price point and also show the cake in all its humongous 8-tier glory 🤣🤣

Here for the diplomatic incident, ngl, I would totally read the shit out of that in the tabloids the next day 🤣🤣

***

NOOOOO, THE CAKE IS RIGHT BEHIND THEM!

THEY WILL TOTALLY TOPPLE THAT CAKE!

***

Okay, I am laughing ��🤣

***

SCREAMING 🤣🤣

I saw it coming from a mile away, but goddamn, it DELIVERED! 🤣🤣

***

I can't stop laughing 🤣🤣

Watching this was such a good decision 🤣🤣

***

LOL, if this was a real-life event, I would spend a week gleefully reblogging it on Tumblr, no lie 🤣🤣

Also, it is a 9-TIER CAKE, not 8 🤣🤣 The more, the messier!

***

LMFAO 🤣🤣

Also, OMG! Uma Thurman! 😍 It's been a hundred years since I watched her in anything!

***

"Sunshine of my heart" 🤣🤣

This movie is hilarious 🤣🤣

***

Wait, Sarah Shahi??

I loved her in Life! I also watched Fairly Legal for her and thought she was stunning in The L Word! I'm forever bitter we never got to see that Nancy Drew adaptation with her in the main role 😕

***

The thing that is the most difficult for me to suspend my disbelief for is the idea that these two overly privileged young men involved in their countries' respective politics are actually nice people.

I keep chanting to myself, "You are not here for realism! You are not here for realism! YOU ARE NOT HERE FOR REALISM!"

To varying levels of success 😕

***

Romantic comedies are so not my genre. And I am so not here for ex-boyfriends or whatever this guy is.

I need Alex and Henry to get back together ASAP and start smashing cakes again because I'm starting to get bored.

***

These are gutter-level jokes.

Seriously, they couldn't get more creative?

***

They have the most basic taste in literature ever. It doesn't even feel authentic, more like what a nineteen-year-old girl thinks good taste in literature should look like.

***

I feel like I am extremely uncharitable towards this movie (the cake thing was funny tho) but it is very hard to take their bland flirting, pedestrian romance and pathetic humour seriously when you're coming into this from 2ha 😕 The standards that have been set are on another planet compared to what we are being given here.

***

Please 😭

And smash another cake, otherwise I don't know how I'm going to make it through another hour-and-a-half of this 😭😭

***

The things I will watch for pretty people 😭

He truly is stupid beautiful and makes this thing infinitely more watchable every time he's on screen.

***

I'm with Henry on this one, this party is like something straight out of my worst nightmares and crushing on the tall, hot guy seems like the only tolerable thing in this whole hellscape.

***

Aww, baby, he is not having a good time.

He wants to kiss him for New Year's too!

***

LOL.

Well. That escalated 🤣🤣

***

NOOOOO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST STARING AFTER HIM?

RUN AFTER HIM AND TELL HIM IT'S OK AND THAT YOU SHOULD CONTINUE SOMEWHERE BEHIND CLOSED DOORS!!

***

And some women! 👀

She's my favourite character in this thing, lol, followed closely by Sarah Shahi and Uma Thurman. And then Prince Henry 😅

***

This guy stands no chance to the level that it's embarrassing he still keeps trying.

I almost feel sorry for him, but I kinda have the feeling that he's going to be the one to out Alex and Henry, so my sympathy is very shallow. Just know when you've lost, my man, and MOVE ON.

[colorisbyshe]

July 2024 Monthly Music NYAA

Current (within the last month... or so):

"Joyride" by Kesha. We've all heard it. A return to form and a celebration of Kesha's freedom <3

I finally listened to Cupcakke's album. I know people love to harp on her obscene lyrics and humor but can I just say her instrumentals are one of a fucking kind? Some notables off the album: "Water Balloon," "Aura," "Backstage Pass," "Rock Paper Scissors," "Dora," and "Dementia." If you like these, maybe give "Catman" by TeaMarr as well.

"Skyscraper Starlight" De De Mouse. City Pop sensibilities with a modern groove factor.

"Chasing Low Vibrations" Foster the People. Not as good as previous stuff but... idk... what it is what it says on the tin. Low vibrational.

"Corazon" & "Switch It (ft Cakes da Killa, GAWD). Glossy, disco-y, and MADE to get you on the fucking dance floor! Glad to have accidentally found the latter song through Cakes Da Killa and their song "Da Dat Baby" with its gay, flashy rap. If you like those, PIVOT WITH ME, and try out "Nowhere" by Shotaro Aoyama.

"Kiss" Penicillin. Just some Visual Kei rep on this list. The sound is very nostalgic for Jrock, at least vocally. Like 1998 vibes.

"Low Threshold" Navy Blue. A rap that feels like the intersection between a confessional and a sermon.

Looking at my "Share with Tumblr" playlist... this is longer than expected so uh... kpop dumping ground?? Which is bad because these are all WILDLY different genres but... I feel like the same group of people will give them a chance so:

"Hot Mess" Aespa (chaotic, bad but compelling). "Sabotage" & "Bad Blood" KWON EUNBI (Dancey, Loona-adjacent somehow?) "Dont" Lee Chae Yeon (Bop for the girlies) "Pricey" & "Rain Drop" NCT 127 (Songs I re-imagine as Exo demos) "Sweetie" PRSNT (Jiyoon from 4minute!! In a co-ed group!! Bubbly) "XO (Only if You Say Yes)" Enhyphen (I'm obsessed with the instrumental) "All Day" Onew (I SAVED THE VERY BEST!! GORGEOUS, ENTHRALLING, musically complex and great)

Jpop and mid-2000s AMV core... I'm here for "Underground" by F5ve and its semi-viralness.

I don't think its their best album, by a long shot, and I miss how weird they were but Glass Animals did have a bit of a comeback from that HORRIBLE lead single. Notables: "How I learned to Love the Bomb," "Wonderful Nothing," "whatthehellishappening?" Indie pop / alt rock.

"Super Breath" Karen 0 & Danger Mouse. MTV Teen Wolf era ass song. For the peeps who liked older Metric but also MTV's curated playlists for their teen dramas.

"Stupid (can't run from the urge" underscores. If hyperpop intrigued you but kind of scared you, if you ran back to like... madeon but gayly... this is the song for you.

If you like previous recs of Alex Anwandter's music, give "Mi Corazón" by Tango Astral a shot. Similar vibes, perhaps more basic.

Kinda generic rock song but "Delusion:All" One OK Rock scratches an itch. Still don't think they've ever done better than "Clock Strikes" but I don't follow them much

Older songs to shout out: "Passive" A Perfect Circle (Used to listen to this and think of Sasunaru, alt rock, nu metal... ish), "Last Smile" Love Psychedelico (Jrock from 2000, close your eyes and bop your head), "Eureka" Sakanaction (more Jrock, more energetic and poppy), "Something Good '08" Utah Saints (Kate Bush Sample and made a great AMV)

[cha-melodius]

This is very exciting I can’t wait to read what you come up with.

For me?

Firstprince. A corner office.

(HELLO LOVELY thank you for this prompt, and I hope you enjoy the finished product. 💕)

chamel’s fandom fest info | read all the fics

Step Into My Office, Baby

(firstprince, 2.4k, E; read it below or on AO3)

Henry is staring out the window at the southern end of Central Park when he hears a very familiar cadence of footsteps entering the office behind him. A moment later, Alex gives a low whistle.

“Look at you, Mr Fancy Pants with the corner office,” he says, his voice low and teasing and shot through with fondness.

Henry still winces slightly. “I did try to turn it down.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re an idiot,” Alex says. He’s leaning up against the door frame, his legs crossed at the ankle and arms folded in front of his chest. It’s late in the day, and he’s shed his jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbow, revealing muscular forearms that Henry can’t keep his gaze from lingering on. When he manages to force his eyes up, Alex is smirking at him. “You earned it, H. Fair and square.”

If anyone had told Henry two years ago that this moment would happen, he would have laughed in their face. To say he and Alex did not get along at first would be putting it mildly. Or rather, Alex resented Henry and everything he embodied, and Henry saw the benefit of keeping Alex at a distance even as they were forced to share an office. Then, getting accidentally locked in the building overnight together yielded a tentative truce, and a fast friendship had bloomed in its wake. It’s been lovely and also dreadful, because now Henry is constantly forced to weather his warm smiles and his teasing smirks and his bloody forearms.

The owner of which is currently flopping bodily onto Henry’s new couch and wiggling his hips in a completely obscene manner as he gets comfortable.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna fucking live in here,” Alex tells him as he stretches his arms up and tucks his hands behind his head.

Yes, nothing to worry about at all.

~~~~~

The corner office comes with promotion and a whole heap of new responsibilities, and Henry quite quickly finds himself drowning in work beyond the long hours he’s used to spending with Alex at the office. He’s in the middle of a particularly terrible stretch at the moment, the looming deadline somehow simultaneously the light at the end of the tunnel and the headlamp of an oncoming train. Alex has been in the thick of it too, working late nights beside him, though that apparently doesn’t include tonight.

Henry loves him—truly, to his endless misery—but he needs to work, not listen to Alex chattering aimlessly while he sits on Henry’s couch tossing M&Ms into the air and catching them in his mouth.

“I was thinking about Thai,” he says, as if it isn’t gone one in the morning. “D’you think Noodies is still open?”

“No,” Henry huffs. They’ve been closed for three hours, and Alex knows this. “Why are you still here, anyway?” he snaps without meaning to, immediately regretting it when Alex’s face falls.

“Well, I was keeping you company and making sure you don’t collapse into an endless spiral of work like a fucking black hole, but I guess Mr Corner Office is too important to need anyone’s help,” Alex sneers, pushing himself angrily to his feet.

Christ, they haven’t spoken to each other like this since that horrible first year, and even more than the work, that’s what finally breaks Henry. Alex is halfway to the door by the time Henry catches him by the elbow, and he jerks out of Henry’s grasp immediately. Thankfully, he does stop, though the glare he levels at Henry does a poor job at masking the hurt written on his face.

“Alex, wait,” Henry pleads. He lets out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand over his face. Christ, he’s too bloody exhausted for this. “I’m sorry. It’s just this project is driving me batty. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Well,” Alex says, fidgeting as he frowns down at the ground. “You’re right, you shouldn’t have.” He sighs as he looks up again. “But I get it. They’re putting too much on you.”

Henry reaches out and puts a tentative hand on his elbow again; this time, he’s not shrugged off. “Can you forgive the stuck up prick in the corner office who takes everyone else for granted?”

“That guy?” Alex snorts. “No. But you’re not that guy, H.”

“I feel like him sometimes.”

“C’mere,” Alex mumbles, and the next thing Henry knows he’s being tugged into a tight hug.

It’s not the first time they’ve hugged, but it’s the first time it’s been so fierce, and it feels like it fundamentally shifts something inside Henry. Alex winds his fingers into Henry’s collar and buries his face in his neck, and it’s all Henry can do to hang on like he’s clinging to a life preserver in a storm.

Except somehow, Alex is both the life preserver and the storm.

~~~~~

When the project finally wraps up, it’s a big deal, and the whole office celebrates accordingly.

“Work hard, play hard,” Alex sing-songs with a wink as he fills Henry’s champagne flute again.

He’s been ricocheting around the room, putting that patented Claremont-Diaz charm to good use. There’s almost certainly a promotion with his name on it after all of this, so he has more than enough reason to celebrate. He’s already been teasing Henry about stealing his office. Henry feels jubilant, effervescent like the bubbles bursting in his glass, and he forgets to be self-conscious about the way he watches Alex. Forgets to school his expression. Forgets not to smile too broadly when Alex hooks an arm around his neck and hangs off him like a monkey.

“Hey, hey, c’mere,” Alex says all at once, tugging him toward the door of the massive conference room that’s serving as the party hub.

“You quite literally just poured me a new drink,” Henry points out.

“So bring it with you. C’mon,” he almost whines, which should not be as endearing as it is. He’s unleashing his most devastating giant brown puppy dog eyes. Henry never stood a chance.

“Where are we going?”

“I just need a breather,” Alex sighs heavily. He drags Henry down the office corridors at nearly a jog, until the sounds of chatter and clinking glasses fade away, all the way to the open door of Henry’s office. At Henry’s cocked eyebrow, he laughs. “Best view in the building.”

He doesn’t walk over to the bank of windows, though. Once Henry’s inside the door, he pushes it shut, sealing them off from the rest of the office. Then he returns to Henry’s side and plucks the champagne flute from his hand. He downs half of it in one go, laughs at Henry’s affronted “hey!” as he deposits the glass on the desk, and grabs the fronts of Henry’s jacket before he starts walking backward across the office. Henry can’t help but laugh helplessly at Alex’s chaotic manhandling, at least until Alex stumbles into the couch and he’s dragged down by Alex’s dead weight dropping out from under him. They land in a giggling heap, and Christ, he’s in Alex’s lap, but when he tries to disentangle himself, he feels Alex’s grip go tight at his hip. An arm slides around his waist, loose enough not to be demanding, but firm enough to prevent him from moving away.

Oh.

Startled, he looks down at Alex, whose cheeks are flushed a dusty rose from the champagne and the exertion, who’s breathing heavily through pink lips temptingly parted as he stares back up with his bottomless dark eyes. He isn’t laughing anymore.

“I like this office,” Alex murmurs. “Something about it settles me. When I’m here.” His grip shifts on Henry’s hip, fingers tightening. “With you.”

“Alex,” Henry whispers, barely daring to breathe.

One corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. “Maybe it’s not the office.”

It’s impossible to tell which of them moves first to close the narrow gap between them, lips meeting in a fierce, hungry press that quickly deepens. Alex nearly bites at his lips, dragging his teeth along their inner edges, and it shouldn’t work for him but fuck, it really does. Henry finds himself pressing closer, revelling in the way that Alex’s arms tighten to bring their bodies together as he sinks his fingers into Alex’s curls. 

“Christ, I never thought you’d want—” Henry starts, though he doesn’t manage to finish that train or thought before he’s diving in to kiss the corner of Alex’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Alex breathes as he tips his head back to give him better access, “me neither.”

“What?” Henry asks, huffing a soft laugh against his skin.

“I mean, does anyone expect to fall in love with their work nemesis?”

That makes Henry pull back and stare down at him in shock. “You’re—”

“In love with you?” Alex finishes. There’s an impossibly soft look on his face, but it’s undercut by a flicker of nervousness. “Yeah, baby. Head over fucking heels.”

Henry feels himself tremble at baby, which is an entirely novel experience, though perhaps not unexpected given how his usual reaction when Alex teasingly calls him sweetheart. He’s so fucking overwhelmed that the only thing he can manage to do is lean in and kiss Alex again, slow and tender and full of all the words and emotions threatening to choke him. He presses his forehead to Alex’s when they part, and for a moment they just breathe together—unconsciously, perfectly, in sync. It’s everything he never let himself imagine, all those late nights together, all those meetings and emails and coffees delivered with sunny smiles that he refused to read into. Alex is warm and solid under him now, grabbing his waist as they kiss and kiss and it becomes heated again, until he’s rocking his hips up eagerly to meet Henry’s in a way that is rapidly going to become a problem.

Especially since Alex seems to find it not a problem at all.

“Wait, Alex, we can’t—” Henry tries, biting down on a groan when Alex palms over his hardening cock before making quick work of his belt and the fastening of his trousers, “—the windows.”

As if that’s the most troubling thing about them having sex in Henry’s office while half the company is just down the hall.

“We’re on the fiftieth floor, baby, no one’s gonna see,” Alex says, undeterred, grinning wickedly as he slips a hand into Henry’s boxers.

Right, then, that’s… good enough, actually. Henry’s been waiting for this for two and a half bloody years and he’s not really inclined to wait any longer. He kisses the smile off Alex’s face as he sets to work on the buttons of Alex’s shirt, rapidly pulling them open so he can get his hands on more of Alex’s skin. And Christ, he’d known Alex was fit—it’s hard not to know, with how ridiculously tightly cut he wears his suits—but it’s another thing altogether to drag his palms over the swell of his pecs and the hard lines of his stomach. Alex bites down hard on his lower lip when Henry tweaks one of his nipples, then retaliates by twisting his palm with just the right amount of pressure over the head of Henry’s cock. Henry moans as his hips buck up into Alex’s grip, chasing the friction that borders on just this side of too much.

“What do you want, baby?” Alex murmurs against his lips, and ‘everything’ feels like too big a concept in the moment, so Henry chokes out, “Just this, just you—” and lets himself get lost in the feeling of Alex’s hands on his skin. He’s so unbelievably worked up that it’s not long before the tension building in his groin is reaching a breaking point, but it’s looking down that finally does him in—watching the head of his cock appear and disappear within the tight circle of Alex’s long fingers, brown skin against dark pink. He tumbles over the edge with a choked off laugh, clinging desperately to Alex as he works him through it, until he’s hissing at the point of oversensitivity.

For a moment he just breathes, his face buried in Alex’s shoulder, mindful of Alex shifting slightly beneath him even if he’s trying not to be obvious about it.

“Not trying to harsh your afterglow here, but d’ya think you could move so I could get a tissue or something?” Alex asks eventually.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Henry rasps, dropping his hands to the fastenings of Alex’s trousers. He shifts back to get a better angle and tugs Alex’s boxers down enough to release his cock, long and rock hard and leaking at the tip, then takes Alex’s hand covered in his come and wraps it around his shaft with his own, weaving their fingers together.

“Oh,” Alex gasps, his hips immediately rocking up into their combined grip, Henry’s come slicking the way and filling the silence of the office with some of the most obscene sounds Henry’s ever heard.

He lets Alex set the pace, which starts out as a slow drag and rapidly picks up tempo, until Alex is quivering under him and swearing in at least two languages. Alex tips his head back against the couch, and Henry can’t resist ducking down to scrape his teeth along the long column of muscle so temptingly laid bare before him. The movement seems to make every muscle in Alex’s body tense up, and then he’s coming with a “Fuck, baby,” that has Henry groaning along with him. 

They clean up quietly, trading soft kisses that they occasionally get lost in, setting each other to rights enough so that they can— well, perhaps not return to the party, but at least leave the building. Henry doubts that their absence has been noticed, anyway.

“Jesus, I’ve been wanting to do that since you got this office,” Alex groans once they’re done, pushing a hand through curls as he stretches slightly where he sits on the couch. 

“What, that specifically?” Henry asks, furrowing his brow at him.

“I mean, more or less,” Alex admits. One side of his mouth tugs upward into a smirk. “To be fair I think I’ve imagined every possible way of taking you apart on this couch.”

“Christ, Alex.”

Alex grins broadly and shifts over to press his lips to the corner of Henry’s mouth. “You wanna hear the list?”

“You’re an incorrigible delinquent,” Henry protests, letting himself be drawn into another kiss. Then he leans in, lips brushing the shell of Alex’s ear, and whispers, “Tell me at home.”

[anincompletelist]

twenty questions for fic writers

thanks to @cricketnationrise @happiness-of-the-pursuit @kiwiana-writes

@ninzied @captainjunglegym for the tags friends! it's been a while since I've last done one of these so I figured I would participate again! xx

+

how many works do you have on ao3?

56! (technically 60 though… 😏🤫)

what's your total ao3 word count?

1,248,687

what fandoms do you write for?

RWRB (currently) [ 1D and teen wolf (past) ]

top five fics by kudos:

but if you could see us from a distance you'd know I've always been so close to you - the og sex curse one shot

Something Borrowed, Something Blue - enemies to lovers at june's wedding

I'll bet it all on me and you, I'll bet it all you're bulletproof - coworkers trivia fluff

praying our bridges don't make waves - soulmates with a twist

kiss me like you've got nowhere to be - roommates to lovers fluff

do you respond to comments?

nowhere near as much as I'd like to! my capacity for social interaction lately has been... lacking, to the say the least ksjhdkshd BUT I SEE AND READ THEM ALL AND I HOLD THEM SO CLOSE <3333

what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ooh I can't usually do angsty endings so I'm carving my own loophole here -- the first two fics in the sex curse series are definitely my most angsty endings before they work their shit out in the third skjdhsjkhd

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of mine do, but I'd say that overall the most fluffy ones are in the firstprince first kisses series!

do you get hate on fics?

I most definitely did in my old fandom but people have been generally very kind and supportive to me here so far! :')

do you write smut?

yes!

craziest crossover:

my george x firstprince hurt/comfort is very special to me <3

(but I also have a Jeff from bottoms x Shane from minx au in the docs so ksjhdhfjh that too)

have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not!

have you ever had a fic translated?

not in this fandom! but I have had some lovely folks record some podfics of my works! (here and here!)

have you ever co-written a fic before?

not for rwrb! (yet???? ksjhdkjhfkjh)

all time favorite ship?

I gotta go with fp! they got me like that niall horan ear crawling gif fr I'll never be the same

what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oh gosh I'm not sure. I HOPE I finish them all but I also have an obscene amount so ksjhdksjdhf not crossing anything off yet!

what are your writing strengths?

I think dialogue? it's always the part of my fics that I write first, and then I build the rest of the story around it. I hope it's a solid foundation!

what are your writing weaknesses?

there's a fine line between explaining and over-explaining and I think sometimes I fall into the second category skjdhkjhf. I love some introspection as much as the next guy but I'm working on only including details that feel most pertinent to the story.

thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I love it! I think it can be so special and can be another way to connect readers with the characters and the story. I took Spanish all four years of high school so I'm a little rusty now, and studied French for a while a few years ago and just picked it back up recently! my translations aren't always perfect but luckily I've had some very kind people to check or point these things out for me :)

first fandom you wrote in?

..... hollywood heights sjkhdjkhgdfh

favorite fic you've written?

oh no. I am so bad at perceiving myself ksjhdjkdjfhg. I think each of my fics definitely served a purpose for me while writing them, but lately I've found myself returning to these three (I'm breaking the rules yes sorry):

Something Borrowed, Something Blue

there were pages turned with the bridges burned (everything you lose is a step you take) - diabetic!Alex

treading water in the deep, just waiting for the tides to meet -(soulmates)

but also there's a wip I'm working now which..... might take first place when I post skjdhkjsdh WE'LL SEE!

+

PLEASE PLEASE CONSIDER THIS OPEN TAG IF YOU'D LIKE TO DO IT! with all of the tumblr nonsense and how behind I've been on here lately I'm all over the place with tags at the moment.

other tags (no pressure!): @firenati0n @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew @thedramasummer

@heysweetheart-writes @stellarm @suseagull04 @bigassbowlingballhead

@eusuntgratie @magicandarchery @read-and-write- @iboatedhere

@anchoredarchangel @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @alasse9 @itsmaybitheway

@getmehighonmagic @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse

xx

[lovelylotusf1]

What each driver would be like playing “TTT” 🔫🕵‍♂️

For everyone who doesn't know the game: TTT is a multiplayer shooter game where the players get sorted into two teams: “Innocent” and “Traitor”. Only Traitors know who is in their team, the Innocent have to guess (leading to a few mind games along the way). There is also a Detective who gets special items to help the Innocents combat the Traitors.

The goal is to eliminate the other team.

You know Among Us? It's basically Among Us but Counterstrike.

Max Verstappen

That one tryhard in the group, you know the one. Takes everything extremely seriously, no fun allowed, he's here to win. Often seen hanging around Charles, who balances out his serious playstyle. Can be convinced to have some fun but only by Charles.

Checo Perez

Doesn't know why he's here. The last video game he played was Tetris. Is frequently left alive solely because he has no clue what's going on and is therefore not seen as dangerous.

Charles Leclerc

The menace. WILL shove you off high buildings and cliffs just because he thinks it’s funny. Teams mean nothing to him, will kill anyone on sight if it has the potential to make him laugh. No one ever suspects him being a Traitor because he also does all this when he's Innocent.

Carlos Sainz

Is a surprisingly good Detective. However, he WILL sing Smooth Operator when he wins. Sometimes gets killed just to prevent this.

Lando Norris

Running around the map at speeds unparalleled. Manic energy personified. Consistently has the most fun, mostly achieved by trolling everyone.

Oscar Piastri

Resident ghost. Goes quiet as soon as the round starts. Everyone thinks he's dead until he snipes them from the shadows. Has won rounds where he was the only one left standing in his team. Was banned from using a Sniper Rifle for a long time.

Lewis Hamilton

Refuses to play.

George Russell

Writes essays on the fly on who is most likely to be a Traitor based on their behavior and pattern of speech. Tries to calm everyone down and speak in an orderly fashion. Makes for a great Detective but often gets killed when he's Innocent because he yaps too much.

Alex Albon

Blames everything on George. Killed a man? George did it (he was on the other side of the map). Saw someone jump off a building? George shoved them (it was probably Charles). Gets away with it most of the time.

Logan Sargeant

Likes to throw explosive barrels at people to his soundboard of Bald Eagle screeches. He embraces the meme. And is often the first one to be killed as a result.

Daniel Ricciardo

Is very bad at the game. Still laughs the most out of everyone. You probably don't want him as your teammate but he is too fun to be mad at him.

Yuki Tsunoda

You'd think he is sweet because he is so smol. Oh no. The rage has nowhere to go in his body. He is the first to scream obscenities into the mic, the likes of which you probably heard coming from a 12 year old on XBox voice chat (they are vicious).

Pierre Gasly

Targets Esteban and Esteban specifically. Even if they're on the same team. Other than that, can be seen trailing Charles and shoving people off buildings with him.

Esteban Ocon

Most often seen in a heated debate with Pierre, spoken in French. Sometimes Charles is live-translating everything they say to everyone’s amusement.

Fernando Alonso

Gets all the trick shots. Dances on your dead body. You hear him laughing maniacally before he kills everyone. Seems to be a Traitor almost every time.

Lance Stroll

A bit unsure of what he's supposed to do but in a lovable kind of way. Tries to latch onto Fernando, who takes him under his wings like a mother hen.

Nico Hülkenberg

People forgot to invite him.

Kevin Magnussen

Doesn't play. Always uses the excuse of having to look after his daughter (even if she isn't there).

Valtteri Bottas

The one who's always messing around with the props on the map. Likes finding the bike, picking it up and pretending to ride it. Isn't interested in anything else.

Zhou Guanyu

Refuses to use any weapon other than the cat gun. Despite that, he is surprisingly good at the game if his cat isn't trying to lie on his keyboard.

[three-drink-amy]

WIP WEEKEND

Thank you to @welcometololaland for creating such a fun game! And to @orchidscript @strandnreyes @inexplicablymine @alrightbuckaroo and @cricketnationrise for tagging me! I was busy all weekend, but I’m playing along now!

1. WIP List:

RWRB:

Cruise AU —Alex and Henry go on a cruise together. Fake dating ensues.

Bodyguard AU —Alex is Henry’s bodyguard.

Potential third installment of Boy, I Fancy You

Lone Star:

Finish Teachers (I’m getting closer!)

Delayed wedding AU —The wedding doesn’t happen directly after Gabriel dies. It takes a while longer.

PR Relationship AU—Carlos and TK are in the spotlight and enter a PR relationship, but what happens when they catch feelings?

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

Teachers, by a long shot, is the longest. Currently sitting at over 100k.

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

Teachers or Bodyguard AU. Probably Teachers, but I have a lot of plans for Bodyguard.

4. Which WIP is your favourite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

I only have 3 wips I have actual words written for. Teachers is very fun! Bodyguard has been trying to steal my attention for quite a while! It’s so fun to write Jonah, as well as the dynamic of TK, Carlos, and Jonah as a little family.

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

Probably Bodyguard. I need the angst and the drama and the desperation to hit right.

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

Right now, probably the Cruise fic because I’m getting very self conscious about making it as fun as it should be.

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

I have my honorary beta reader/cheerleader all rolled into one with @rmd-writes. She worked her way into my docs ages ago and I can’t imagine not asking her to read it first.

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

Yes. Bodyguard did. I started it in January or February of this year, struggled to plan the next chapter, started reading a ton of Lone Star fics, began writing Teachers, and it has sat there like a sad, ignored WIP for months. But I’m coming back to it!

9. Which WIP has your favourite OC? Tell us about them?

Jonah may not be an actual OC, but this version of him kind of is and I absolutely love him! He’s a tiny, loving, teacher’s pet and he is my child.

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

Cruise or Bodyguard may end up being the sexiest. If I’ve done my job right 😂

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

Bodyguard or Delayed Wedding will be the winners. Bodyguard for potential angst and bodily harm, Delayed Wedding for emotions.

12. Which WIP has the best characterisation (in your humble opinion)?

Well that is really hard. I am gonna say the cruise WIP because I get to really lean into oblivious Alex and I’m excited for it!

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

Cruise fic. They’re on their way to Europe. I can’t wait to get to that part!

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

I guess Teachers, just for the sheer amount of time I have spent writing it. I started it in February. I would love to finish it by the end of 2023. Let’s hope. I looked back and for an unhinged week when I had Covid, I wrote an obscene amount of words. So, yeah, Teachers.

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

Bodyguard or PR Relationship. Both of them lean into tropes I love and so I want them to work.

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

Not that I can remember. Day dream? All the time.

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other fics don't?

I guess Delayed Wedding might because I’ll have to rely a lot on canon. AUs I can be a bit more free.

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humour?

Probably the Cruise fic. Or Teachers.

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

Teachers had a decent dive into Jonah, though it’s still from Carlos or TK’s perspective.

20. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs.

I’m excited to write more angst. And a few of these will be fulllll of angst. Teeheeheee.

I have no idea who has done this. If you have, ignore me! No pressure tagging: @clottedcreamfudge @indomitable-love @cha-melodius @dumbpeachjuice @liminalmemories21 and @lightningboltreader

[albontology]

erm. yippee!

fucking hell, alex thinks, god-given right of kings and they can't keep a spam filter up?

the text, at face value, is innocuous in its obscenity. "hey ALVIN," it reads, "i just turned 18 and an in Your Area! want 2 meet up? 🏎️🥵" on any other day, alex would block the number immediately. today, incandesced by rage and a fear he won't speak to, he allows the message to last for a few more seconds of its stupid, futile life in tiny, grey pixels.

he traces his thumb over his phone's power button and clamps his lower lip between his teeth. around him, people buzz in droves, on phones of their own, bluetooth headsets, walkie-talkies. probably wiring direct messages to mars, for all it'll help. alex has long passed the point where he held his breath for a call to come back with an all clear; still, his mind thrums trying to keep track of the volume in the room.

alex wishes logan were here-- for a myriad of reasons, to see his face, know he's safe, watch him stand, unharmed, and smiling again. alex knows he'd be guaranteed a snort, not a laugh, just something raw, when he'd show logan this bullshit spam message, point out the tacky emojis. logan's eyes would quirk up with little creases radiating at the corners, alex can see it, logan would quip back "a racecar? mate, they know what you like a little too well--"

alex bolts upright in his chair. in the commotion, no one notices he's gone ramrod-straight, perfectly still but for his eyes reading, re-reading the message on his phone.

a racecar. 18. your area. alex thinks back to.

two years ago, a stupidly hot summer, and logan had just come out of the shower and changed into a fittingly bright ensemble for a diplomat's dinner later that evening. he'd draped himself over the chaise, idly browsing on his phone, and alex had been perched at the adjacent armchair, scrubbing over potential talking points. just as alex had opened his mouth to snip at his getting his suit jacket creased, logan had looked up to match his eyes with a mischievous grin.

"alex, look at this," he said, like he didn't have his phone screen shoved under alex's nose already. alex took in the headline-- buzzfeed, that's perfect for a rising noble.

"'mom makes her daughter come home after receiving cryptic text?'"

"no, like, scroll down some more." logan retracted his phone, scrolling down the page himself, before shutting the phone off, seemingly over it. "it's basically... i think we should make a secret code, for if either of us gets in trouble. it would be like, if i sent you an... eggplant emoji, you would know, 'oh, logan needs a ride back to the hotel' or something."

"logan." sometimes, he renders alex at a loss. "i don't know if that's what eggplant emojis mean, mate."

logan had spluttered, "i know that!"

"sure you do," alex said, patronizing more than placating. "anyways. i think our messages are already tapped forward and backwards." he dangled his work phone between two fingers, and logan had tracked the movement. "i don't know if you could say anything that wouldn't get caught and acted on the second after you sent it."

logan seemed put out, but he didn't relent. "c'mon, alex. for fun, even if we never have to use it? i want mine to be the racecar."

alex did as he's wont to do, and said yes.

racecar. 18. your area.

long shot of all long shots: logan is alive.

logan is somewhere nearby, close enough to be in alex's area. and alex could bet his life, is going to bet his life, that he's at the motorsport track just two hours out of the city limits: it's where they celebrated his 18th birthday.

alex might be able to find logan. he shoves his phone into his coat pocket, and he doesn't hesitate.

--

on the road, alex prays and prays that his gut is right, that logan is there waiting for him. slipping out to the service garage and into his car had been almost too easy with the flurry of activity around him, but crossing the border would be impossible given the current state of the house. if logan's at the track-- since logan's at the track, things can stay simple, easy to fix.

alex's glance darts down for a split second at the phone in his lap. he'd tried texting the number back, a simple "who is this?," and gotten the first message again in return. alex tries to find some consolation in that: logan has someone's phone, and is able to receive and send messages, though the content has to be monitored.

he allows his conviction to grow as the miles tick by. he received the messages on his personal phone, not his business phone, he knows logan has both numbers memorized. if something truly bad had happened, if he was in imminent danger, logan could have very well pulled the same stunt but to his business number, and alex would have gotten it flagged right away. instead, he got it on his personal phone, using their secret code they swore not to tell anyone else. the number 2 was logan's karting number, during that birthday stint. logan is fine. alex is going to be fine, when he finds logan.

by the time alex begins up the winding drive to the track, his palms are no longer sweating as they grip the wheel. his lip is a bloodied mess, and he swears he's gone at least half grey, but he feels a sense of deadened calm as he follows the signs to the parking lot.

there's one other car, already stopped in the nearest place to the track entrance. it's a gaudy powder blue, something out of an old movie. what the fuck is my life. alex allows himself the incredulity.

they're up on the side of a forested hill, and the air is oppressive, made soupy with fog. still, alex can clearly see a man, leaning up against the side of the car. he's taller than logan should be, and as alex inches his car through the lot, he can make out dark shades and a black overcoat. it's stupid, theatrical. alex appreciates it, in a morbid way.

he parks his car a few spaces over, taking a moment before turning it off to stare at his palms in his lap. what am i doing. why did i come here alone? it had felt right at the time, spurred by adrenaline, but now he very well may be alone on a mountainside with either a complete stranger in a cartoons detective's getup or someone who kills royals for fun. he's not sure which is worse.

alex hears a noise from the adjacent car. it's a voice-- two voices. one of them, he could swear he knows it anywhere, it sounds like logan. the other is familiar in a way that itches his brain, dissatisfactory. he looks out to see the man in the overcoat has turned his back on alex's car, is coming around to open up the backseat.

alex knows it's his best chance: he unlocks the door swiftly, lunges out and slams the door shut behind him. he goes to charge at the car ahead but stops short as a familiar blonde head pokes out from behind the man's overcoat-clad shoulder.

the man has held out his hand to logan, who grasps it without hesitation. the man steps aside for logan, who clambers out of the back seat. the man turns to face alex, raises his other hand, takes his sunglasses off.

the man is george russell. alex's first rival, alex's first love, alex's last and latest big regret before he woke up this morning to find logan's spot in the bed empty beside him.

logan, who's wearing the same pajamas as he was wearing last night. logan, who's standing, unharmed, next to george. logan, who's still holding george's hand.

fucking hell.

in a rarepair logalex state of mind.

long-suffering and long-repressed prince's retainer alex to charming but slightly neurotic secondborn prince logan. in a day of national unrest due to a suspected plot against the royal family, alex rushes to logan's suite to find the golden boy has fled the nest-- kidnapped, perhaps? by none other than-- god help him-- alex's one-time karting rival, two-time fuckbuddy, thrice-over contact deleted ex george. the three of them have to get through a week on the lam without anyone getting arrested, getting killed, or getting their heart broken. feat monarchy kink!george, competency kink!logan, and alex in the role of "i'm going to project every repressed desire i've ever had onto you in the form of jokes and counsel"

[symbiotic-slime]

Heat like Fire

a/n: happy halloween my fellow monsterfuckers!! couldn't have a spooky season without blessing y'all with a spicy venom fic

pairing: Venom/Host!Reader [AFAB, Gender Neutral]

word count: 1.5k

content: NSFW, developing relationship, mating cycles, tentacle sex, mild dom/sub, tentacle bondage, biting, degradation

Mature Audiences ONLY

You sat on your cracked leather couch, staring at the screen of your TV. A cheesy Hallmark-style movie was playing, though you weren't paying attention. You felt sick. Your body ached, your skin was clammy, and the worst was that nothing you did seemed to help. The ice pack did nothing to cool your body, the meds hadn't put a dent in the aches.

And someone was being... decidedly quiet.

"God, Ven, what's going on?" You groaned, your head woozy. "Are we sick? I feel like I've got the worst flu of my life."

“No, we're not.” They sounded defensive, like there was something they were hiding from you.

"Are you gonna tell me what's going on? You seem to know," you snarked.

Silence.

"Ven? I just want to know what the fuck is going on with my body."

"We are in heat," they said, their voice heavy with guilt.

"We're in WHAT?" You demanded, springing out of your seat.

"Heat, [Y/N]."

"Like some kind of fucking animal?!" A sharp pain shot through your stomach, and you were forced to sit back down. "No... no no no this can't be happening. Humans don't go into heat."

"Symbiotes do."

"Fuck." You buried my head in your hands. You shifted your weight, moaning as slick rolled down your leg. "What are we going to do? It's not like we can just go out and find someone who's willing to fuck us through this."

"You could always call that person you were seeing before."

"Alex?" You asked incredulously.

"Yes," they hissed. "I'm sure they'd love to see you like this."

"I don't think someone who ghosted me would want to help with this. God, I don't even think I could explain this to them," you groaned. "Even if I could, I don't think I'll be able to wait long enough for them to get here. I feel like I'm gonna pass out."

There was a tentative pause, an odd silence in your head.

"We could always help you with it," they mumbled, their voice subdued, almost nervous.

Were they offering to have sex with you?

"You mean like... making it go away?" You laughed nervously.

"If we could make this go away, morsel, we wouldn't be here."

They were definitely offering to have sex with you.

And you weren't... opposed to it.

Your body quite liked the idea. Blood rushed to your cheeks as your legs spread further apart. Your pussy throbbed at the thought of their tendrils wrapping around your skin, toying with you while you're completely helpless.

You told yourself that was just because of the heat. It wasn't that you was actually attracted to them, you were just reacting weirdly because your body needed to be fucked.

That was totally what this was.

"What... what would that be like?" You fidgeted, my hands tapped against my thigh.

"It could be anything you want," they purred, sending shivers down my spine.

You moaned, loud and obscene, and quickly shoved a hand over your mouth.

"You need to be somewhere comfortable, morsel. A nest."

You cocked your head to the side. "Like a bed?"

"Yes, that would work."

"Can you take us there, love?" The pet name just slipped out, but it felt right. "I feel like my legs are gonna give out if I try to stand."

"Of course." Your body was rigid as they seized control of it. Their movements were jerky and uncanny, but you didn't collapse into a heap on the floor. That was a bonus.

They laid you down on the bed gently, removing your clothes as their tendrils delicately wrapped around your legs.

You moaned and arched your back, desperate for any sort of friction.

Your face grew hot when I realized what you'd done. You squirmed. "Fuck," you groaned. "Why am I like this?"

"It's because of your heat, [Y/N]. We already established this."

You sighed, exasperated. You couldn't take it anymore, you needed them inside of you. "Venom. Please just shut up and fuck me."

More tendrils slinked out of your body, pulling your hands above your head and pinning you to the bed. You tugged on them, testing their strength. There was no give to them.

"We know exactly what you want," they purred into my ear. "What you crave."

You whimpered, throwing your head back against the pillow.

The tendrils around your legs tightened, keeping your legs spread far apart. The rest spoiled over your body in a shibari-like pattern, claiming you as theirs.

"We know our morsel likes this," they said as their tendrils played with your nipples, twisting and pulling until you were a moaning mess beneath them.

"Please, Venom, I need you to fuck me," you whined.

"Beg for it."

Usually you would be mortified by the idea of that, but you beyond embarrassment.

"Please," you whined, your slick soaking the sheets beneath me. "I need you to fuck me. Please, Ven, I need you inside me."

"Well, since you asked so nicely..."

You moaned as Venom's tendrils traced up my thighs, caressed every inch of your body. One of the ones playing with your chest split off, wrapping around your neck to form a collar. You squirmed and tried to bring yourself closer to them, but the bonds didn't budge.

"You can squirm all you want, morsel, but you're powerless against me. You couldn't stop me even if you wanted to."

You whimpered. You were so weak in comparison to them, so powerless, and you wouldn't want it any other way.

A tendril found your clit, rubbing it ever so gently. A jolt of electricity shot through your spine, your back arching into the sensation.

One of their tendrils finally eased its way into your cunt. You moaned as another joined it, pulsating inside of you.

"You're so loud, slut. So eager. If we had our way, we'd be making you scream." Their voice was low and lust-ridden as their tendrils forced their way into your mouth. "But we can't have anyone interrupting us, can we?"

You sucked them further in, loving the feeling of them gagging you. They chuckled darkly and indulged you, pushing themselves further until you were choking.

And fuck it felt so good.

They pulled back in my throat, letting me breathe as they slowly began to thrust into my pussy.

You tried to buck your hips up into them, only to not be able to move. You needed more, more of them inside of you, pounding into your pussy and breeding you.

They must've sensed this desire, as they started thrusting into you at a steady pace. Their tendrils stretched you so well, so perfectly.

Their tendrils pressed deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot.

Your moan was muffled by the tentacle in your mouth, one which was coated in your spit. Drool rolled down your chin, landing on the pillow beneath your head.

"You take us so well, sweet one," Venom purred as their tendrils continued to fuck into you. "It's like you were made for us."

Venom wasn't lying when they said they could give you anything you wanted. Their tendrils pounded into your sweet spot every time. Their tendril on your clit, rubbing and sucking, brought you closer to the edge faster than anyone ever had before.

The heat was building in your stomach. You felt your stomach muscles tense, ready to release.

Tendrils pulled away from your chest. Their head emerged, fangs bared in a feral grin.

"We can tell how close you are morsel," they growled. They moved their head closer to you until their fangs brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck. "We think we know how to push you over the edge."

Their fangs sunk into your flesh, drawing an obscenely loud moan from you. You threw your head back as you came, your toes curling. You shook softly as the feeling enveloped you.

You collapsed, your body like a dead weight. The tendrils holding you in place loosened. Some retreated back inside of you, while others gently caressed your form.

The tendrils inside of you pulled out slowly, drawing a small moan from you before retreating back into your body.

"Did you enjoy yourself, sweet one?" Venom asked.

"I think that's an understatement, dear. God, we might just have to make that a regular occurrence." You smiled, pulling their head in to kiss between their eyes.

They blinked, uncharacteristically quiet as they healed the bite mark on your neck. They left just enough of a mark that it looked like a hickey, a reminder that you were theirs.

They stared at you for a moment before purring, nuzzling into your face.

"We love you, [Y/N]."

"Love you too, Ven."

[matteblack71sg]

Nothing Else Matters — J.M.K

Baby, You’re Too Sweet for Rock’n’Roll- prologue/Chapter 1

Josh Kiszka x Fem!OC

This feels so overdone yet I never see it among the greta fanfic realm—the opposites attract trope!! I got this idea after seeing josh and Dorothy Martin standing next to each other at bottlerock and got a tad inspired :)

Also, this is so much longer then I wanted it to be but that’s just because there was so much of a backstory I wanted to establish!

Cheers, and Rock on! - rouge

— Warnings: nothing too wild here, things do get slutty but nothing NSFW. also josh is a dick

Greta Van Fleet is gearing up for their summer/fall tour that is the biggest they’d done yet. Touring internationally and across the nation with close to 10 acts in their bill for support. One band is recruited last minute, and it’s a band that everyone likes…on paper. With the turbulent lifestyle of tour, rock and roll, and the fact that Josh Kiszka is adamant about being single, when he meets his match in the form of a woman that couldn’t be more different than him….things become more than they ever could have bargained for. But what’s rock’n’roll without a little bit of give and take?

Josh Kiszka was not a man to get nervous. He didn’t get “nerves” and if he did, he satiated them with a shot of tequila and a drag of something sweet. He was not a nervous guy. So, when he was sitting with his bandmates at their management office, he despised the feeling of his hands getting clammy.

Why, you might ask?

Greta Van Fleet had just been propositioned by their team to add an up-and-coming rock band Absinthe to a leg of their summer tour. Now, the boys had no issues with Absinthe. In fact, they all were aware of the group if not casual fans of them. They were more on the rock and roll side of things, which attracted the likes of old and new artists raising props to them.

“Didn’t they just do a song with The Pretty Reckless?“ Sam asked, leaning back in the swiveling office chair. Danny hummed in agreement, whipping out his phone and pulling up Spotify. “It’s called ‘Bleeding Heart’. Taylor Momsen did vocals.”

“That one is kickass,” Jake smiled, nodding. He was the most outward fan of the band. Their manager surveyed the scene and smiled, before looking at Josh. “You’ve been very quiet. No thoughts on adding Absinthe to a few dates?”

Sam snickered, before rolling his eyes. “Josh doesn’t even listen to them. It’s not like he would have an opinion to weigh even if he did-“

Josh scoffed, folding his arms tightly a crossed his chest. “I just don’t know if they fit the bill. Are they talented? Yes. But do they fit our image? Not particularly.”

This quieted the room considerably. Josh was right—and he knew it. The lead singer of Absinthe, Alex, had just gotten arrested for public indecency while their guitarist—and the only girl in the band—Lennox, was rumored to be the new “bad girl of rock and roll”, whatever that meant. Cocaine, LA parties, international affairs and obscene photos, illicit substances… it was the rockstar lifestyle, but it wasn’t the image that Greta Van Fleet had curated for themselves.

“Dude, c’mon. They’re kids,” Jake argued, reminding his twin that the band consisted of all individuals no older than Sam’s mere 23. “They’re all around our age, Josh,” Daniel reasoned. Josh shrugged, stubborn. “I just don’t really think it would sell. We don’t really do that sort of thing-“

“So you’re saying we’re not rockstars? Speak for yourself,” Jake huffed. “I’m just saying we don’t do it like them, dickwad.”

Their manager sighed heavily. “Enough, boys. Josh, while your concerns are valid, there’s no denying the facts that they would bring in a whole new wave of fans and ticket sales would skyrocket, all in all they’re incredibly talented. We’re booking them, and if you’ve got such an issue, well…you can find a way to work around it. Now, Jake, Sam, come with me. We have that radio interview in a half hour and we need to get going now to avoid traffic.”

With that, the band split up, leaving only Josh and Danny in the room. Danny stood up, tossing a glance over to Josh. “Are you really that bothered about Absinthe?”

Josh cast him a sidelong glance. Danny held his hands up in defeat. “Maybe watch an interview or two. Get to know them as people. Y’know, they are just kids. Remember how much shit we got when we were just starting out,” Danny jested and nudged Josh’s shoulder.

Josh rolled his eyes and nodded, rubbing his temples. “Yeah yeah, you’re right. Ever the voice of reason, Daniel.”

“Always, brother,” Danny smiled before walking out of the room.

Josh, sitting alone at the table, let out a deep breath through his nose. He was fucking nervous now.

--•—•—

Weeks after the news had broke to Greta, they took the tour announcement public. As their manager had predicted, the fans went crazy for the news, saying they couldn’t wait to buy tickets to the added leg just to see Absinthe open for them. While getting their outfits fitted one final time, Jake was informing Josh on the news that was circuiting.

“So, apparently, they’re wanting us to cover Metallica with them,” Jake snorted, from his place on the bench. He was scrolling through an article that Jita had sent him from Rocksound, while Josh was standing, tense. He had gone with a slightly different design for his jumpsuits and this one was being particularly finicky. “Please don’t stab me,” Josh jested through grit teeth, as his tailor looked up at him apologetically. “I can’t sing like James. Are they daft?” Josh asked, annoyance in his voice. “Besides, why would that be a dual cover? Does anyone know anything?” Josh asked no one, as Jake snorted and shook his head. “All I know is that they all love Metallica. Doesn’t mean they wanna do that. You know how the journalists are—they find one little lead and blow it into a stupid clickable article.”

Josh rolled his eyes. His brother was right, but he didn’t want him to be. Josh was honored to play with the band, and had grown to feel a sense of mentorship from the four men, but it wasn’t his speed. If they were going to cover anything with Absinthe, it wouldn’t be that.

“Makes me wonder if we have anything in common with these kids at all,” Josh grumbled as he was helped off the stand and slowly stripped down to his boxers, not wanting to disrupt any of the pins that Sasha, had so carefully marked.

Jake raised an eyebrow at Josh. “You worried you’re not going to be able to hang with the kids, Grandpa?”

Josh sneered. “Like you’re any better. You drink twice your body weight in liquor every night. By the time they get here you’ll be dead weight.”

Jake let out a clipped laugh before standing and gathering his things. “We have to go meet Sam and Danny at the studio—are you coming?”

“Yeah, fucknut. Let me put my clothes on.”

With that, Josh was slowly helped out of the jumpsuit and handed his khakis and white short sleeve that were sitting beside him on a chair. “Glad you’re wearing boxers this time,” Sasha joked, making Josh chuckle. “The stage is the appropriate time for a show, my dear. Not when you’re armed with pins and other sharp things that could harm me.”

She shook her head before cleaning up her station, and Josh was soon lacing up his vans while Jake tapped his foot impatiently on the floor. When the twins were both ready to go, they bid a quick goodbye to the seamstress, and walked out to Josh’s car. Hopping into the passenger seat of the Wrangler, Jake let out a sigh. “Put the address in the maps, will ya?” Josh nagged, as he put the car in reverse.

A beat or two went by as the two rode in awkward quiet. “Y’know…” Jake began, causing a sidelong glance to be cast his way from his twin. “Jita and I have been talking.”

“I would hope so, you are dating her.” Josh huffed, making Jake scoff. “Yeah, anyway…she…well, I…think…God,…” Jake mumbled, stumbling over his words. The car lurched to a stop at a red light and Josh turned to face Jake, face pinched together, pensive.

“Spit it out, already. You gonna propose?”

This caused Jake’s eyes to widen in surprise. “No, no, no, not that, oh my God!”

Josh’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s so hard for you to get out then, anyway?”

Jake took a deep breath. “She’s worried about you. Thinks you’re, I dunno, lonely.”

Josh cast an annoyed glance towards his brother as the lanes began to move again. “She’s worried. About me. Your girlfriend of a few years now, is worried, about me?” Josh asked, incredulous.

Jake glared in return. “Yeah, man. She cares ‘bout ya, and since she’s been around she hasn’t seen you with anyone. Jesus, you’re like a brother to her—is she not allowed to care about you?” Jake’s tone was biting, as he had taken offense to Josh’s defensiveness on behalf of his girlfriend.

“Well, tell her thanks, but I’m fine. I’m not looking to date right now. I enjoy-“ “I know, the troubadour life, but-“ “But nothing. I’m not looking. End of story.”

The air in the car was still tense. Josh let out a deep breath before looking at Jake. “Look, didn’t mean to be a dick. I just don’t need you guys asking me about this. I already have Mom and Dad…every single time we go home… ‘Joshua, when are you going to settle down?’ I can’t have that from you, too.” Josh sighed, and Jake nodded. He patted his brother on the shoulder.

“I just worry about ya, man. Plus, you’re getting old. Soon you’ll be too decrepit for anyone to even consider you,” Jake joked. Josh flipped him off, before getting out of the car.

“So…you not going to propose to Jita?” Josh asked, which brought on a glare from Jake. “Listen, if I’m not allowed to ask you about your love life, you can’t ask me about mine. Every time Mom calls her she makes it a point to bring it up.”

Josh nodded, before shaking his head. “Well, Mom’s not here. So, fuck that conversation. Let us go get shitfaced.”

—•—•—

“Jesus Christ, it’s hot out here,” Jake sighed as he wiped sweat from his forehead. They had just finished their set at the Bottlerock Festival in Napa Valley, and the sun was blazing, unflinching. “All I want to do is go back to our Airbnb that has an A/C and blackout curtains.”

“Shut up, diva,” Josh muttered as he too was also drenched in sweat. The Kiszka twins unfortunately ran hot much quicker then their younger comrades. “Jake, Josh, c’mere!” Sam called them over to where he was standing with his bass tech, his girlfriend Hannah, and their friend Marcus King. The twins embraced Marcus and said their hellos, before Josh looked at Sam. “What, Sam?”

“Han just told me that Absinthe is apparently playing one of these smaller stages in like twenty minutes. We were going to go catch their set, to check it out. Come with us,” Sam said, with an inviting tone but the look in his eye said that this was strictly business.

Josh shrugged. “I’m out. I need aloe and a blunt.”

Hannah frowned, motioning to the twins. “Come on, you guys! They’re small so it’ll only be for a sec, and plus, you guys get VIP,” she giggled, leaning into Sam.

“Share a beer over some rock and roll, brothers,” Marcus jested, and Jake nodded. “You’re buying,” he laughed, pointing at Marcus.

The group slowly got bigger, and by the time they approached the set, Greta had brought with them Hannah, her guitarist, Marcus, Jita, and Jake’s guitar tech. Luckily, they were able to get into the VIP seating because not many people were in this crowd. Beer was dispersed, and they got comfortable. As Josh sat down, he cast an eye towards the empty stage. Techs were doing last minute sound-offs and tests, making sure levels were good and nothing was out of order. Hannah was sitting next to Josh, Jita on her other side. “Oh, I’m so excited!” Hannah squealed, before nudging Josh. “Aren’t you?”

He shrugged, a half-smile appearing on his face. “I’m not too familiar with them.” Hannah’s shocked face made Josh grimace. “How the fuck are you not familiar with them? God, Josh, I’m convinced you live under a rock!”

“Who lives under a rock?” Jita asked, leaning over to join the conversation. “Josh!”

Jita laughed, tossed Josh a coy smile. “Oh, yeah, you get used to it.”

Hannah sighed, before looking pointedly to Josh. “You better take my word for it when I say they’re fucking amazing.” Josh raised his hands in defeat and let out a weak chuckle. “Judge and jury, alright, alright.”

With that, the band walked out from the right wings, all clad in black denim and black leather. The drummer was massive, bigger than Danny and covered in tattoos. The bassist was a skinny guy, not as tall as Sam but built similarly, with long black hair tied up in a messy bun. He was wearing a tiger print shirt that made Hannah motion to Josh. “That’s Dean. He has the best style. And the drummer is Blake.”

The vocalist, Alex, was wearing black leather pants and was shirtless, exposing a large tattoo that adorned his chest and a part of his torso. The guitarist, Lennox, was the only one that wasn’t in Josh’s view, but from where he sat he could see her black Gibson Explorer and her head of unruly black hair.

“Oh my god, I fuckin’ love them!” Hannah had gone full fangirl, Jita cheering along with her in solidarity. Josh had to admit, they were good. Really good. Alex had an incredible command on the crowd and had palpable chemistry with both Lennox and Dean, at one point walking up behind Dean during a guitar solo and put him in a faux headlock before kissing him playfully on the cheek.

As the set got close to the end, Alex approached the edge of the stage. “So, I don’t know if you guys know, but we’re big fans of this Italian rock band called Mäneskin-“ he paused to cheer along with the crowd. “And they’re playing here this weekend, so we wanted to pay tribute to them. Damiano, enjoy the show, baby,” Alex flirted, before he turned and conversed silently with the other three. Seconds later, he turned and they launched into an explosive cover of I Wanna Be Your Slave.

“Goddamn,” Jake muttered, making Josh jump. He hadn’t even realized his brother was sitting to his left. “These guys are fucking good—look at her!” Jake motioned, pointing towards Lennox. The girl was on her knees, playing the guitar solo that was after the first chorus. Josh nodded, swallowing hard.

The cover ended, and Alex said a quick goodbye, before they all went to exit stage-left. Before they did, Alex ran up behind Lennox and grabbed her ass, playfully swatting it as she laughed.

“They’re wild,” Jake smiled. “They seem like fun.”

“They seem like trouble,” Jita said, a small smile on her face. “God knows these guys could use some of that!” Hannah smiled. “Let’s go say hi!”

The group migrated to behind the stage, where the band was standing outside of their bus that was parked there. Two of the guys, Dean and Blake, if Josh’s memory serves, were sitting on folding chairs with beers in hand, a joint in Dean’s other. As they approached, Alex emerged in black boxers and a bottle of Tito’s Vodka. The three started talking to one another, what it sounded like was the guys giving Alex shit. The conversation stopped abruptly as they all noticed the people standing a few feet away, awkwardly.

“Holy shit, you’re Greta Van Fleet,” Blake said. Dean’s face furrowed in confusion as Alex smiled wide. “Shit! Hey, guys! Want a beer? Want a shot?”

The enthusiastic man extended a shot glass full of Tito’s to Sam, who was the closest to him. Sam laughed and shook his head, making Alex cock his head. “C’mon, Sam Kiszka. No shot? No balls.”

Danny and Jake chuckled, Danny nudging Sam playfully. “Ignore him,” Dean said. He walked up and shook each of the individuals hands—luckily the group had lessened considerably. Now it was down to 6–the four bandmates and Hannah and Jita. Introductions were made and pleasantries were exchanged before Blake sat down in his chair again. “So, what’s up, Fleet?”

Jake sipped on his beer that he had graciously accepted. “Wanted to come introduce ourselves. We’ve heard a bunch about ya but never got to meet face to face, and then-“ “I told them about your set! Sorry, I-“ Hannah interrupted excitedly, before blushing. “Nah, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re a fan?” Dean asked, flirting slightly which caused her to blush.

“We all are, to a degree,” Sam said, as his grip around Hannah’s waist tightened and Dean nodded. “Fuck yeah, man. Well, we’re stoked for tour. Never been to Canada or anything like that before,” he smiled.

“Yeah, we’re all going to be there together,” Danny said, motioning to the group. “Hannah’s going to be supporting us too.”

“Yeah! That’s another reason why I love your band, girl guitarist solidarity,” she giggled as Dean and Blake both nodded in understanding. “Where is she, anyway?” Blake muttered, before standing up. As if on cue, the bus door swung open and who they all could only assume to be Lennox emerged.

“Yo, which of you fuckers took my fuckin’ herb?” She snapped, glaring at her bandmates before realizing that they had company. “Oh, fuck. Hey. I’m Lennox,” she said, stiffly, before it clicked in her head. “Oh, God, Greta Van Fleet! Fuck, Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” the door slammed shut as they all looked at the other men who shrugged. “She’ll be right out.”

“You all have quite the band dynamic, it seems,” quipped Josh from his place beside Jita. Alex snickered. “Lennox is the biggest pain in the ass. They all are. But, I mean, we make decent music and that’s the biggest thing, right?”

Dean punched him slightly. “Fuck off, mate. We’ve all been friends forever. Alex just pretends he’s better then us because he has a persona to uphold.” To that, Dean received Alex’s middle finger and a few light chuckles.

The door swung open again, and this time Lennox emerged with her hair in a half-up bun and a black v-neck and jean shorts on, which was an improvement from the sports bra and boxers she had been wearing prior.

“Hey, guys. Sorry for the shit first impression,” she laughed, as Hannah walked up to her. “Oh my god, hi! Can I just say that you’re so completely and totally badass?”

Lennox smiled slightly and bit her lip. “Thank you. Do I know you from somewhere, you seem familiar?”

“Hannah Wicklund, of Hannah Wicklund and the Steppin’ Stones,” she smiled, thrusting her hand out to shake. Lennox smiled, closed lipped and nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

Conversation broke out into smaller groups, and Josh found himself growing anxious to leave. Jita tapped his shoulder. “You okay?”

Josh shrugged. “Hungry, I think.”

Jita nodded sympathetically. “Well, maybe-“

“Hey, uh, you hungry? We have some shit on the bus,” Lennox asked, as she had been leaning up against the bus smoking a cigarette only a few feet from them. “C’mere.”

Josh followed her onto the bus, taking a sigh of relief at the shade and air conditioning. “We have buncha’ chips, gummy worms, PopTarts but those are Blake’s, leftover Taco Bell from last night-“ she looked up from where she was rummaging through the cabinets and fridge, expecting an answer. “Oh, just water is fine.”

She looked at him for a second before tossing him a bottled water from the fridge. The cigarette hung limply from her mouth, as she took it and quickly flicked it, ashing it on the floor.

“So, you caught our set?”

Josh nodded, taking a drink. “You’re all very talented,” he said, with a smile.

She returned it, before nodding towards him. “Wouldn’t take you to be a fan of ours.”

“Well, who out of us has toured with Metallica?” He quipped, making her smirk. “Touché.”

“You just don’t seem like you’d fuck with our shit,” she followed up, before grabbing a cold beer from the fridge and quickly banging the countertop to dislodge the cap. Wordlessly, she handed it to him.

“You just all seem like you’re very...” “Debaucherous?” She inquired, and he nodded swiftly. “Seems like you’re doing this…I don’t know, for the wrong reasons.” He said, without thinking. Watching the younger woman’s face contort, he instantly regretted it.

A dry chuckle left her mouth. “Heh,” a finger pulling at the small hoop in her nostril. “Listen, I didn’t mean to be presumptuous, but all I know of you all is-“

“All you know is nothing. And, what do you have to say? You prance around onstage in your flouncy little jumpsuits and bedazzled face and expect me to call that rock’n’roll? No fuckin’ way,” she rolled her eyes. Josh’s cheeks burned.

“At least I’m in it for the music,” he bit back, making her scoff. “Uh-huh. Whatever, Kiszka. I’m gonna tell you once; get the fuck off of my bus,” the woman all but snarled at him. He glared back, annoyed that she was getting this heated with him.

“Gladly. This place is a fucking mess anyway,” he spit back, before exiting swiftly. The door slammed behind him, causing the group still talking to all stop and look at him.

“Where’s Lennox?” Jake asked, as he had his own questions for the fellow guitarist.

Josh shrugged before trudging back over to where he had been hovering with Jita, who had now been joined by Dean and Danny, Dean showing them all his tattoos.

“Yeah, and these ones on my wrists are actually for my grandma and ma- Oh, hey Josh!” He smiled, as Josh nodded. Quickly, Jita noticed a shift in his demeaned and quietly pulled him aside. “You okay?”

He rubbed the side of his face in frustration. “Let’s just say…this is going to be one hell of a tour,” he sighed, before taking a long swig of his cold beer.

[justplainwhump]

In the pet!Dany AU, where is her father in this? Or bodyguards (though they’re not necessarily reliable protection for her, I know)? @gottawhump

Deal

Have a little drabble in reply, and if you ever have more questions, lmk! It's just, Frankie being Frankie.

Set in the BBU, contains discussion of future noncon, planned kidnapping.

[Making Angel Masterpost]

"I want to fuck her," the muscular man sitting across from them at a small table in some run down fast food joint said, and Alex Nadler just raised an eyebrow.

"Please, elaborate?"

"When she's done," Mueller explained. "Like, when she's all brainwashed and cute and horny. I mean that's what you're doing with all your treatment, right? When she's done, I want to see her, and I want to fuck her."

"Training," Alex corrected, while they jotted down a note. "That's the term. Not treatment." Despite their best efforts, Alex couldn't keep their eyebrows down or their head from slightly shaking. They knew that their face was an open book. And sometimes, people just confused them. They'd offered Frankie Mueller a serious compensation, a new identity, a job at a WRU facility overseas to start a new life.

And the selling point in the end was, what Alex had written down as 'pre-sales product demo'.

"Sure," Alex said with what they hoped was a nonchalant tilt of their head. The client would hate it. Even before anything had gone down, even while Danielle Hammond still went about her daily life unsuspecting, Barlow had a clause in the contract to get a detailed report on whoever got to be intimate with her. But there wasn't another choice. They needed inside help, if they didn't want Hammond's farther to interfere with the operation. "We can make that happen."

Mueller leaned back on his chair. "It's not like, instead of all the other stuff, right? It's just an add on."

"Of course."

"And that identity needs to be waterproof. Stuart is relentless." Mueller grimaced, before he added. "That fucker."

"With your help, we'll make sure Stuart Hammond looks in all the wrong places. Do you know the Somervilles' operation?"

"Ian?" Mueller nodded, as he grabbed his soda and took a long sip. "That who you want to go down for it? Stuart is going to obliterate him for messing with Dany."

Alex nodded. "That is the desired outcome."

"Cool. And we're going to be... dead? Like, in the story?"

"Yes. Daughter of local crime lord and her loyal bodyguard, tragically killed after a kidnapping gone horribly wrong." Alex handed him a USB drive. "I want you to plug this into her computer. Has to be unlocked, apart from that, there's nothing you have to do but wait five minutes."

The device vanished in Mueller's pocket. "Can do. Anything else?"

"We'll need some items from her home. Small things. A colleague will be in touch with you."

"Cool," Mueller said again, and got up from the chair. "Guess I'm going to go enjoy the last days of my life, then." He pulled out his phone and when they caught a glance at the screen, Alex' eyebrow shot up again.

The person on the wallpaper was very familiar to them right now. Danielle Hammond, in Mueller's arm, grinning into the camera in front of some scenic waterfall.

Mueller seemed to have noted Alex' gaze. "Don't worry," he said, while he slipped the phone back into his pocket. "I'm not attached. She's a bitch. She had it coming. I'll deliver her."

Yep. People were deeply unsettling to Alex.

Mueller leaned in. "And then, you'll break her."

Alex winced. "We don't call it that."

Mueller didn't listen or care. "And then I'll..." He made a slow, obscene gesture and chuckled. "Yeah. Can't wait."

He rapped his knuckles on the table, before he sauntered off, calling over his shoulder. "Pleasure making business with you."

Alex stared past him for a while, until they gathered their documents and settled the bill. There was a lot of work ahead of them.

[storiesofsvu]

A Day Among Friends

Casey Novak x fem!reader Tiny Liz Donnelly x reader x Casey Novak Mentions of Beth duh. Part of Penthouse Warnings: language, minor conversations of trauma.

“Casey! Come on!” You called from the living room, “we’re gonna be late!”

“We have plenty of time!” She called back, finally emerging to jog down the stairs to you, “Liz has a car waiting, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean we’ll beat the lines to get inside. Plus I know you’re gonna want basically one of everything from the concession stand.” You shot back.

“Please!” Liz cut in, coming around the wall from the kitchen, “have fun, but do not indulge too much, I don’t need either of my girls being sick when they get home.”

“Yes M’am.” Casey smiled as you blushed.

“Of course Your Honour.” You couldn’t help but tease Liz lightly with her relatively new title, even if it had been in place for nearly a year already, it was still something admirable.

“Good girls.” Liz’s head tilted in appreciation, “now go. Like Y/n said…you don’t want to be late.”

The two of you let out a small laugh, quickly grabbing each other’s hands as you scurried from the penthouse. Liz had gifted Casey with prime seats to the New York Yankee’s game, and while Casey loved baseball, you were pretty impartial. However, you did love the days spent in the sunshine with the shitty beer, hot dogs and nachos to munch on while you yelled over sports. It had honestly been one of the ways that you and Casey had bonded back in college.

You loaded up on beers, hot dogs, a bag of cotton candy and a plate of nachos before you found your seats, settling into them before the first pitch was set. Casey loved that you appreciated the sport as much as you did, you understood it well enough that the two of you would be yelling in agreement when the umpire made their calls. Jumping up in cheers as your team made the home runs, and doing your best to catch the fly balls when they soared over the railings.

The afternoon also gave the two of you a time to relax, to remember just how fun life was supposed to be. It reminded you of how simple things used to be when you were back in college, the two of you basking in the sunlight yelling obscenities as you indulged in one too many beers. The two of you were more than happy, laughs and smiles on your faces as you watched the game go by. There were some small moments where you indulged in some less platonic moments, whenever your team made a home run you couldn’t help but pull each other into a small kiss. It was something that made the two of you inexplicably happy, you’d always loved each other, on a best friend level or not, but you were always thankful to feel Casey’s lips against yours. Especially when they were sticky sweet with cotton candy, neither of you could get enough.

“God I used to love watching you play.” You muttered over the rim of your cup.

“Used to?!” She mocked offence, “what’s wrong with now?”

“I dunno…” your hand reached out, twirling her pony tail around your fingers, “guess I’m just not feeling the blonde.”

“What?!” She laughed, “you love blondes! Alex and Liz are both blonde!”

“Yeah but you know I have a soft spot for redheads.”

“Believe me, I have not forgotten about Jessica.”

“What a fucking waste that she’s straight.”

“Agreed.” Her attention turned back to the diamond momentarily, “oh come on!”

“You have money on this game don’t you?” You smirked across at her and she huffed.

“Yeah….if we lose I owe Cutter two hundred.”

“You’ve really gotta stop making bets all the time, you keep losing…”

“It keeps the days interesting.” She shrugged and you laughed.

“Yeah…cause sex crimes isn’t interesting enough?”

“Okay so maybe it was more of a white collar thing…” she flagged down roaming concession guy, buying another round of beers for the two of you.

“You know you’re crushing it at SVU, right?”

“I don’t think witnesses turning up dead exactly constitutes crushing it.”

“Hey…” your nudged at her with your shoulder, “that wasn’t your fault and you know it. It wasn’t even your office that was bugged.”

“Sorry about interrupting your date night that night.” She offered and you laughed.

“Just a good thing we were at the Brownstone. I’m sure Branch would’ve had an aneurism if he ever found out about the penthouse.”

Casey snorted at that,

“I think he’d have enough of a field day knowing Liz was involved at all.”

“True.” You surveyed over her for a minute, your lips pursing, “did you put on sunscreen before we left?”

“I ran out of time.” She gulped back more of the beer, “someone was rushing me out of the house.”

“God, Case…you’re gonna fucking burn.” You poked at her flushed skin, “you know, sometimes I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t manage to stay alive without a babysitter.” You teased, digging through your bag, passing her the tube of sunscreen you pulled out.

“Oh you like taking care of people, don’t twist this on me.”

“Being the designated Mom friend at college parties is not the same as babying you when you’re in your thirties babe.”

“Awe…you mean you won’t hold my hair if I puke later?”

“If you puke tonight you are Liz or Mary’s problem…I’ve dealt with enough of that already Novak.”

“You still adore me…you can’t hide it.” She teased, booping your nose with her free hand, causing you to roll your eyes.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that right? It’s only your ability to channel your inner puppy dog that gets you out of trouble.”

“What can I say? Gotta play to your strengths.” She shot you a dazzling grin before she applied the sunscreen to her face, passing the tube back to you, “thanks.” You took the tube, tossing it back into your bag before picking up your fresh beer.

“Hey have you met that new detective yet? I’ve been buried with old cases and motion hearings.”

“Beck?” Casey rolled her eyes, taking a hefty swig.

“Whatever her name is?” You shrugged, “the one covering Liv.”

“Let’s just say this: you’re lucky as hell you haven’t met her yet.”

“On a scale of Fin to Stabler, how much am I gonna hate working with her?”

“I love how buddy buddy you are with Fin.” She laughed,

“He’s super chill and aside from that snafu with Darius, very unproblematic. You’re the one who’s buddies with Mr police brutality.”

“I dunno if buddies is the right word, we just get along better than me and Liv do.”

“Eeh, she’s just pissed you took over for Alex.”

“You think she would’ve got the stick outta her ass after three years. And she knew Alex was alive the entire time!”

“I’ve heard she doesn’t do too well with change.” You shrugged, “and you didn’t answer my question.”

“She’s somehow worse than Stabler. You should probably take a look through her jacket before you pick up your next case with them.”

“Fuck.” You groaned, taking a swig of your drink, “and Cragen really partnered them together?”

“Fin and Elliot are still butting heads pretty bad, and we both know Munch has his partner’s back no matter what. There wasn’t really another choice.”

“Wonderful. Where’s Liv again? Undercover?”

“Yeah. I heard something about eco-terrorism? Not really sure though.”

“I mean isn’t that the whole point of undercover…no one’s supposed to know?” You prodded at her ribs with your free hand, smirking when you got a shriek out of her. “You heard anything from Lex?”

“Connors is getting extradited in a couple of months, Zapata’s dead. I’m pretty sure she’s allowed to come back anytime? But maybe they’re keeping her hidden til they’re really sure?”

“Hmm..”

“Why? Ya sick of me working the same department as you already?”

“Oh clearly.” You replied dryly, “absolutely cannot stand you, your work ethic is garbage. And a seventy one percent win rate? C’mon Novak, you can do better.”

“Oh please…your win rate’s right up there.”

“Not after the last couple of weeks.” You grumbled, “not happy with how far it dropped.”

“What’re you at now?”

“Sixty-two.” You extended the popcorn bag over to her that she eagerly dug into while you paused to yell more towards the diamond.

“That’s still impeccably good, especially considering you’ve been sex crimes way longer than me.”

“I guess.” You sighed, swigging at your beer as the players cleared the field, “why the fuck is the mayor here?”

“Election year.” Casey grumbled back.

“Fuck politicians.”

“Figuratively or literally?” She smirked and you swatted at her arm.

“There is only one politician I will literally fuck and you know that.”

“Any recent midnight phone calls from Washington? How is Keane?”

“No.” You let out a small sigh, glancing around quickly, glad that the game wasn’t too crowded and you had your own space, no one close enough to overhear things. “She’s as good as she could be after nearly being blown up. I mean…how many therapy appointments did you make after you got attacked in your office?”

“Trauma takes a long time to heal from.” Casey murmured over the rim of her glass and you shot her a sympathetic look, squeezing at her arm softly, you’d been there in college, you knew exactly what she’d gone through and how she’d coped with it. “I guess it’s a good thing if she’s not calling you in the middle of the night anymore?”

“Yeah.” You dropped your head to Casey’s shoulder momentarily, “and I know she’s busy. We still text a few times a week, but it’s hard to share mundane everyday things. Like, it’s easier to go longer without talking so we actually havesomething to share, doesn’t help that half her life is aired globally and another quarter of it is confidential bullshit she can’t talk about.” Your brow scrunched for a minute as you glanced to your smart watch to check the date, “fuck! I need to remember to call her next weekend!”

“Birthday?” Casey raised a brow, shifting her face down to yours and you shook your head.

“Anniversary of her son’s death.”

“He was in Iraq, right?” She asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your head.

“Yeah. Died saving another soldier…he was barely twenty eight…”

“Fuck…”

“Yup.” You drained what was left of your beer, “and it s a very no-no topic. She basically refuses to talk about him to anyone, but especially to press. Even with me she’d only indulge a little bit, and it was usually about his childhood, little habits that she still has because of him, that kinda shit.”

“I can’t imagine how painful it must be to bury a child…”

“Not to mention the entire thing destroyed her marriage too. I mean…they were probably on the outs already, but it was potentially salvageable before Andrew died.”

“Did you ever meet her ex?”

“Couple times. I mean I was her paralegal, there’s a lot of paperwork flying every which way when you’re a senator about to run for president.”

“I take it he never knew about the two of you?”

You snorted, pushing up from Casey’s shoulder as the players made their way back onto the field.

“No one knew about us. I mean, she was running for fucking president. A little lesbian affair would’ve destroyed everything for her.” You let out a huff, “Carrie knew, but she’s Beth’s head of security, she was around the most aside from Rob…and we didn’t even need to tell him, he just knew.”

“Was he...in the blast?”

“Nah.” You shook your head, snagging Casey’s beer from her, which prompted her to roll her eyes, flagging down the beer guy again, “Rob stepped down as chief of staff when his wife got pregnant, her new guy was in the blast…I don’t think she really trusted him…”

“She gonna run again?” Casey passed you a fresh beer, stealing hers back from your hand as you shrugged again.

“I honestly think she is…” you rubbed a hand over your face, pausing to shout out a couple of cheers alongside Casey as the game started up again, “she hasn’t made the announcement, or actually told me yet…but I know her..she’s not gonna go down without a fight.”

“She’s got some balls, that’s for sure.”

“I honestly think it has to do with the assassination attempt. She wants to prove that she’s not a coward…that whoever tried to take her out isn’t gonna scare her away from doing what she’s meant to do…or whatever it is politicians say to make themselves sleep at night.”

“They still haven’t figured that shit out?”

“They have a couple of leads…a couple of guys in jail now but….she still doesn’t feel safe. Carrie doesn’t trust it either…there’s gotta be someone else on her staff that wants her out…”

“Bullshit.”

Casey leant in, pressing another kiss to your temple as the conversation faded, your attention returning to the game in front of you. After that everything fell towards the game, towards the day off, the fun and friendship between the two of you. You polished off the beers, picked through the nachos and popcorn, and sealed the bag of cotton candy as the two of you finally made your way from the stadium.

When you got on the subway Casey wrapped an arm around your waist that you leant into, nuzzling into her body, thankful for the embrace. You pressed a small kiss to her collarbone, squeezing your arm around her in the crowded car. It wasn’t that you were normally intimate like this, but your friendship usually crossed those boundaries, and with the added addition of how the penthouse worked, things became more open.

You were both thankful when you stepped off the subway, Casey ducking with a soft laugh as she kissed your cheek. The day had been exactly what you needed, a day with a friend that you’d always love, spending the time doing something you both enjoyed to do together.

Once home you both showered, ordered some dinner (pizza, on Casey’s request to keep with the theme of the day) you snuggled up in your bed while you ate, turning on a movie marathon. Liz checked in before she headed to bed, kissing you both softly and scolding Casey for the already burnt tinge to her skin, making sure she set aloe vera on the bedside table before she retreated to her own bedroom. It wasn’t long after teeth were brushed and the take out cleaned up that you were fast asleep in each other’s arms, the effects of being in the sun all day truly wiping you out.

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