#we’re getting to the end of the month which is the most intense

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 26- nightmares

Woah art again?? :D there may or may not be art for the rest of the month 👀 no promises tho. And also excuse the fact how there’s no nightmares, there’s just bad memories 😭 I didn’t know what else to do lol.

~~~~

It took hours getting people to safety on the broken boat, and fortunately none of them were hurt too badly. There were a few with broken bones, but Talon and Ammon began to care for them right away. The people were all huddled up on the deck, anxiously watching the land ahead of them. After a few hours, the boat miraculously started moving again, with the captain of the ship taking the helm again and driving to land. But there was no sign of Linebeck.

Leon didn’t think much of it since the man said he was going to fix the engine of the ship, but even after it had started moving again, he still hadn’t reunited with the men. Soon the land was getting closer and closer, so Leon decided to look for the sailor despite his motion sickness so he wouldn’t have to turn the ship upside-down to find him when they arrived. He walked down the stairs, noting the broken walls and steps, and he reached the engine room. It was a mess, but it wasn’t flooded anymore, with boxes and wax all blocking the hole that the monster created. The engine was whirring still, looking functional, and Linebeck was resting against the wall with a blank expression on his face, his arms resting on each knee as he stared. Leon walked up to him, waving his hand to get his attention, and Linebeck flinched slightly, his eyes finally focusing on something.

“Oh, hey,” he mumbled, moving his legs so he was on his knees. “I was just about to head up there.”

“Were you now?”

“Yeah…” Linebeck trailed off, standing up slowly while still clinging onto the wall. Leon glanced around the room again, nodding his head.

“It’s impressive down here. You fixed all this by yourself?”

Linebeck let out a bitter laugh. “No, I didn’t fix it. I just… fixed it enough to last us the rest of the trip.”

“Did it take a while?”

He shrugged. “Just had to pump out the water and fill the hole. The water damaged the engine, so fixing that wasn’t easy but…I guess it didn’t take too long.”

Leon frowned. “And you’ve been down here ever since?”

Linebeck looked down, a guilty expression on his face. “I mean—I’ve just been thinking about stuff.”

Leon stared at his face, the uncomfortable expression, the way he was rubbing his arms and legs…

“Is your scar bothering you?” Leon asked, and Linebeck’s eyes traveled to meet his, his expression turning more somber.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “tentacles just give me bad memories.”

Leon gave a knowing nod, remembering how his scar spread throughout his entire body as if something had held onto him. He wasn’t surprised to see Linebeck freeze up earlier. And yet…

“You were very brave up there, Linebeck,” he said, placing his hand on his shoulder. “Despite your fear, you took charge and steered the ship away from the beast’s attacks while also keeping us close enough to fight it. It was impressive.”

Linebeck smiled slightly, it having a hint of genuinity. “Ah, it’s nice to finally show off my skills for once I guess,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head.”

“Yes, it was nice to see them in action. Makes me wonder what else you’re capable of.”

Linebeck grinned, a hint of teasing on his face, but he didn’t continue. Instead he frowned and faced Leon fully. “How’s Benji? I haven’t checked on him at all.”

“He’s fine from what we can tell,” Leon explained, “no injuries, though he does seem out of it.”

“Yeah. Goddesses, I owe him a lot. If it took me I—” he shuddered and looked away.

“Well, let’s head upstairs to thank him, shall we?” Leon suggested, holding out his hand. “I doubt being down in the dreary engine room isn’t doing you any favors.”

Linebeck stared at the ground, but he took Leon’s hand, following him up the stairs to the deck. It was dark out, with a lighthouse guiding the ship to the land, but Linebeck immediately took in a deep breath, the wind clearly bringing relief to him.

“It’s nice out here, isn’t it?” Leon commented, and Linebeck nodded.

“Yeah. It’s not the sea, but it’s better than the forest.”

“You don’t like the forest?”

“I hate it.”

Leon chuckled before leading Linebeck to where the rest of the group sat, all chatting amongst themselves while Benji played on his guitar. Benji turned his head right when they arrived, and his face lit up.

“Linebeck! There you are!” He cheered, positioning himself so Linebeck could fit the group. “Where’ve you been? I was sad you weren’t the first one crying over my situation.”

Linebeck laughed, though it was small, and he sat down next to him. “I’m sorry, Ben, I was just…um…”

“Linebeck was keeping an eye on the engine,” Leon jumped in, nudging him with his boot. “Had to drag him up here so he wouldn’t work himself to death.”

The rest of the men chuckled while Linebeck rolled his eyes.

“I guess I was working a little too hard,” he muttered, and Leon nudged him again.

“He’s quite the handyman.”

“Oh please,” Linebeck scoffed. “I only knew what I was doing ‘cause it was the same as my ship.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Talon jumped in, “you’re the reason why we’re heading to land in the first place!”

“And you’re why we defeated that monster,” Rusl added.

“And let’s not forget the lockpick,” Ammon continued, “that was the fastest picking of a lock I’ve ever seen.”

Linebeck scratched the back of his head, suddenly looking bashful, which Leon found amusing. Usually the man loved boasting about his own accomplishments.

“I-it was nothing, really,” he said, “I was just… caught up in the moment.”

“It saved us though,” Rusl pushed, and the rest of the men cheered in agreement.

“Well let’s not forget about Benji though,” Linebeck pointed to the man, “he saved my life after all.”

“Oh yeah,” Benji started, “I did do that! Glad somebody remembered huh?”

Rusl playfully shoved Benji and the men burst out in laughter, beginning to chat about things, their plan, and how good everyone did. But Leon watched Linebeck, who was still more reserved than normal, yet looking far better than before. He truly didn’t give the man enough credit—the man was far braver and competent than he had realized, and he couldn’t help but see him in a different light. He opened his mouth, but paused on what he was going to say. Perhaps he was going to apologize for his short temper that was always directed to him, or perhaps he was going to compliment him once again, but right when he was about to speak up, shouts interrupted him, and the group went silent as the unfortunate souls on the boat started shouting at the captain.

“We demand a refund!” A woman yelled, her arm in a sling as she was inches from the captain’s face.

“I-I’m terribly sorry but—” he started, but another man popped up, a furious look on his face.

“You made us pay twenty rupees just for us to almost die! You have to make up for it!”

“Y-yes I will but—” The captain glanced at the men who were watching and gave them a pleading look. “You guys, you men helped save us! Surely you can… help me?”

Benji scoffed. “Buddy, you owe us.”

“Yeah, I’m not helping you anymore,” Linebeck grumbled, and the captain whimpered.

“I-I—HOW ABOUT THIS! I give everyone on this boat a free… um… stay at the inn in the next town?”

“And a free doctor’s visit?” A woman jumped in, and he sighed.

“Y-yes, and a free doctor’s visit.”

“I’d rather have a refund.”

The angry mob all muttered in agreement, but Talon raised his hand.

“We’ll take the free inn,” he said, and the group nodded. They didn’t give the man rupees anyways.

“W-well—I can’t just refund all the money, I’m sorry,” the captain said, but all the outraged shouts quieted him, along with shouts from the men.

“Just give them their dang rupees back you scammer!” Talon yelled.

“Yeah!” Benji agreed, holding up his guitar with one arm.

“But give us the inn, we do really want it,” Ammon shouted, which resulted in the men all laughing as the poor captain got left to deal with the angry mob. It was well past midnight by the time they arrived to land, with the boat sputtering and stopping right when they docked. The workers at the docks only stared at the destroyed ship in shock as everyone started running off as soon as they were able. The men were the last ones off, with the captain giving them a pleading look before they walked onto the ramp.

“I will let you all stay on my ship if you’d fix it for me,” he begged, and Leon glanced at the others, who were subtly shaking their heads.

“Nah,” Linebeck said for Leon, and walked away with the others following. Leon simply shrugged at the captain and followed his friends, the group looking for the inn where they would stay. As soon as their feet touched the ground, Benji wailed and got on his knees, kissing the cobblestone.

“Oh, solid land!” He wailed, giving the cobblestones more kisses until Leon kicked him slightly.

“Don’t do that, you don’t know where it’s been,” he scolded, and Benji simply gave him an annoyed look before licking it. Leon let out a disgusted yell and stepped away from him as he scrambled to his feet, his tongue still hanging out of his mouth. “You are disgusting! Licking the ground where hundreds of people have walked upon with their shoes that have stepped in every bit of filth on the planet! What is wrong with you?”

Benji simply winked at him before retracting his tongue in his mouth, which genuinely made Leon want to puke. He survived the boat ride without emptying his stomach, and he was going to let this ruin it for him?

“Hey, you two weirdos!”

Leon and Benji looked to see Linebeck watching them with the others waiting impatiently for them to follow.

“Quit fighting like a married couple and let’s go. I’m tired.”

Leon and Benji glanced at each other before sighing and following the men. They were both very tired, Benji more than Leon no doubt after everything he went through that day, so going to an inn sounded nice. They finally found somewhere to stay, with the inn being very nice; it was tucked away in the corner of town with trees surrounding the building, and the innkeeper was just as nice as the place, giving the men separate rooms where two could room together (save for one that needed three).

“I call rooming with Talon!” Rusl shouted as they got the keys, his hand raised.

“No! I wanted to room with Talon!” Benji fought back, clinging onto the man’s arm.

“That’s not fair! How come you two get Talon?” Ammon jumped in, and all the men broke out into a lighthearted fight over who got to room with Talon while the poor man looked shocked. Leon couldn’t help the chuckle as he watched the group squabble. They were truly an interesting group of men.

Finally they decided on who would room with who: Kass and Ammon would take one room, Rusl, Benji, and Talon would take the other since Talon wanted to keep an eye on Benji, and Leon and Linebeck would take the final room. It was an arrangement they (reluctantly) agreed to, and they split up, with Leon feeling surprisingly sad that they weren’t all staying in the same room. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited to sleep in his own bed for once.

He and Linebeck reached the room, with it being on the second level of the inn. As soon as Leon reached the bed closest to the window, he took off his shoes and cape and flopped down onto the bed, the events from the day crashing down on him at once. Linebeck did the same, and before Leon could fully pass out, Linebeck spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Hey—um—thank you for what you said earlier. It helped.”

Leon opened his eyes and smiled slightly at Linebeck. “I’m glad it did… I… I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time over everything. You’ve proven me wrong time and time again.”

“Mm,” was all he said in response before burying his face in the pillow with a sigh. “Well, goodnight.”

Leon smiled and buried his own face further into the pillows. “Goodnight Linebeck. I’ll see you in the morning.” It was silent for a moment, so Leon decided to say one more thing before letting sleep whisk him away. “May you have pleasant dreams. It’s what you deserve.”

He heard shuffling, then it went quiet once again, with sleep finally beginning to overcome Leon. But he heard one more thing before he finally fell asleep, and it echoed through his mind just as he fell unconscious.

“You too.”

[slater-baby]

Hi slater I saw that you do requests now and I can’t stop thinking about this prompt so I RAN to your ask box

Imagine if Simon had like a girlfriend or wife that he hid from the 141 bc he’s scared to put her in danger but then he accidentally ends up mentioning her anyway? Imagine how cute their reaction would be :(((((

Anyway I love Texas Red rn literally what I sleep eat and breathe <3 hope you’re doing well lovely

- 🐙 anon

Im gonna call u Octo Anon cause somehow that goes well in my mind lol hope you enjoy the story!! Tags: drinking, recreational drug use (weed), drunken confessions, banter, newlyweds, pure tooth-rotting fluff, whipped!Simon

-

Six months. 

It had been six painfully long months since they’d been sent on this blasted deployment. A deployment which, to no short degree, went off the rails the minute they hopped off the transport. They’d been stuck in the ass end of the Mexican jungle, working a joint operation to see a few two-bit traffickers into their maximum security cells in the United States. 

Thinking back on it now, it was far from the most dangerous operation they’d ever been sent on, but if the misadventures they’d had had been any less hilarious, he might have been inclined to say the short deployment would live on in his nightmares. 

First, a private had accidentally locked the keys to one of their armored trucks inside the car. Price had been livid, shouting loud enough that the enemy might as well have had their direct position on UAV. Needless to say, it took three hours, two crow bars, and five men over 220 to crack the doors in time to make it back for evening mess. 

Then, Soap’s detonators had fizzled out halfway through an infiltration.

-

“Fuck do you mean they’re blitzed?!” Simon had yelled through the heavy gunfire, ducking behind a tree trunk when a bullet came whizzing by his face.

“Means the cap’s fucked,” Soap had yelled back, crouching in a pile of wires that were all too complicated for Simon to understand.

“Get it fuckin’ fixed, will ya?! I got thirty men out here, and I’m not burying ‘em until we’re back at base—”

“Have some patience, LT—”

“Patience?!” Simon had growled, pinning Johnny with a pointed stare, “Another word, MacTavish, and send you out there myself.”

“Just—” Soap grunted, stripping another wire, “Got my wires crossed or something—”

A blaze had consumed the battlefield, a shockwave big enough to make Simon stumble on his feet rocking the earth. A tense quiet had ensued, punctuated by falling tree limbs. The gun shots had halted immediately. Panting, he’d looked down at Soap’s confused face.

“Oh…” the sergeant had chuckled, holding up the detonator for Simon to look at, “Guess it was the yellow wire then.”

-

And even after all that, there were no shortage of stupid mistakes on base that had nearly cost him his sanity. A few privates suspiciously AWOL (who’d eventually been found blind drunk at a tequila bar after a five alarm fire and an intense search of the entire base). An air raid siren that malfunctioned the minute the lot of them were finally down to sleep. And to cap it all off, a session with a group of green recruits who wanted to observe a few SAS soldiers in their prime. One thing led to another, and when an errant misfire at the gun range nearly landed in Simon’s foot, he would have swum all the way back to England just to get a night of peace and quiet in his own damn house.

However, all’s well that end’s well, he supposes. No use in complaining about it now—especially when the mission had bore such impressive fruits. In the end, all three of the targets they’d been searching for had gone away in cuffs, and to top it all off, the leader of the cartel in question was coincidentally at the meeting they’d raided just hours ago—an absolute miracle by all counts.

Another success. Another name crossed off the Most Wanted List. And another long night of celebration before they headed back to Europe. All things considered, it couldn’t have ended better. 

Though, that isn’t to say they were any more professional than they’d been when they’d gotten here.

-

“Soap,” he’d groaned, deadpan.

“C’mon, Ghost, lighten up,” Johnny had drawled, sticking the smoke between his teeth.

“What the hell is that?” He’d pointed to the smoke in question.

“Nothin’, LT. Just…” he’d shrugged, lighting up, “…not baccy.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon remarked, pinching his nose bridge, “Y’know, Price’ll have you by the balls if he sees you smoking that.”

“Not if I offer him a hit first,” Soap answered, blowing a ring of smoke, “Old bastard’s got back pain, y’know…”

“Fuckin’ hell…”

Simon had shaken his head, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. Beyond the fence of the base, he’d seen the chirping night bugs, glowing fireflies illuminating the woods just on the other end. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d seen another cloud of smoke waft throughout the air. His fingers had tapped against his bicep. His profuse scowl fell with a single twitch of his lip.

“Fine,” he’d relented (all too excitedly), “Give it—before I decide to write you up myself.”

-

Needless to say, one hit turned into a second…turned into this.

“No—no, that’s against the rules,” Kyle wheezed, bent halfway over in his chair while Soap sat on his knees in the chair across the table, squinting aggressively down at the cups of beer on Kyle’s end.

“It’s fuckin’ not, ye git, now yer just being dramatic—” he wobbled on his knees, barely able to catch himself on the edge of the table before he fell off the chair.

“Hate it break it to you, lads,” Price smirked, feet kicked up against the table while he sipped on a finger of whiskey, “But beer pong ain’t exactly meant to be played sitting down…don’t even know what rules you’re yapping about…”

“Shut up, Price,” both of them had drunkenly snapped, and Price acquiesced with two raised hands.

Somehow, the night had come to this. The four of them in the basement of the watchman’s tower, surrounded in all the army fanfare one could expect. Open bottles of Jack Daniels. Old posters of bikini models on the concrete walls. Metal music blaring through a tinny bluetooth speaker. 

Soap had bought too much weed for his own good. Which—when combined with a near lethal dose of liquor—had all of them blazed off of their faces. Captain, included. At least, if they got written up, their leading officer’s signature could bail them out. Not like the MP wouldn’t keep their mouths shut for a few hits, anyway.

Now, Kyle and Johnny were an hour into a game of beer pong, adding a new rule seemingly every second just to keep things interesting. First, you had to drink two cups for every point the other person scored. Then, you had to balance a shot of tequila on your shoulder when you threw. And now, you had to be sitting in a chair that was at least a foot away from the edge of the table when it was your turn.

The two of them were so smashed this round alone had taken them forty five minutes at least. And—judging by the way Soap was wobbling on his knees—it would be another forty five minutes at the very least.

“Just fucking throw already,” Kyle giggled.

“Shut up, Gaz, m’allowed to take my time—”

With a look of sloshed concentration, Soap inelegantly chucks the ping pong ball across the table, arm wound up like a baseball pitcher just to get it in the cup without a bounce. It smacks Kyle in the chest, knocking over a cup of beer, and before he can even curse, the wheels of the chair slide out from under him, and Johnny lands face first on the concrete floor.

The sound of it is so loud it rings around the walls. The laughter that ensues is so raucous the boys on watch duty upstairs are no doubt getting an earful.

“Fuck—” Gaz wheezes, clutching his stomach.

Simon manages to stifle a laugh with another sip of beer. But when Price suddenly jerks forward, a spray of whiskey leaving his mouth, Simon can’t contain his own laughter for even a second longer. His chuckles are deep and hoarse, a sound that was so scarcely heard Soap stops his whining just to straighten up in awe.

But, hell, even if the three of them are staring at him like he’s grown a second head, Simon can’t stop it. No, he laughs until he’s nearly blue in the face, coughing around the remnants of the beer in his mouth.

“Damn,” Kyle peers curiously over at him, drunken gaze so amusing it only makes him laugh harder, “Looks like you broke him…”

“Not broken,” he manages brokenly, clearing his throat to try and appear a bit more sober, but he’s far too sloshed to hide the way that he smiles, “Y’just look like an idiot is all.”

“M’not an idjit—”

“Just proves his point,” Price chips in.

“Whatever,” Soap sighs, standing up and dusting him off, “You bastards’re no fun anyway…”

For a second, the conversation drops out and only the music on the speaker can be heard. Idly, Simon looks down at his watch, however, with that simple movement, his head spins viciously, and he takes a deep breath just to steady himself. 

“Anybody got a pack o’ menthols?” Kyle suddenly chimes in, “Already smoked through mine…”

Simon hums, propping his hip up to reach into his jeans pocket to rifle around, “Think I got another pack…”

“Which brand?”

“Newport.”

“Braw,” Soap reaches over the table, “You lads want another round?”

-

“I miss Nando’s,” Gaz sighs, lazily fiddling with the beer bottle in his lap.

“Fuck, that sounds good,” Soap hazily leans onto his shoulder, eyes closed, like if he thought hard enough, he might be able to conjure the taste of it on his tongue. Truthfully, Johnny was a bit too drunk to conjure up anything beyond the taste of Don Julio, but even that seemed a little far fetched at the moment. 

They’d been doing this for a while now, going back and forth with all the things they wanted after deployment ended. It was a mindless game, one they probably wouldn’t even remember in the morning. Hell, even Simon was getting loose in the lips, droning on and on about some magical dish he’d been aching for. Honestly, it was so surprising to see him open up that the three of them were all but speechless to reply, listening intently as he stumbled through an incoherent explanation. Hell, at this point, they’d listen to him talk nonsense so long as his coworkers got a glimpse into the mysterious life he lived when he was off base.

Over the years, the most he’d talked about was the gym that he frequented, and which groceries he bought for dinner. In all honesty, it was hard to imagine Ghost outside of those two particular scenarios. Ghost, lifting weights for hours on end, some acrid black metal blaring in his headphones. Ghost, puttering through the grocery store with a surgical mask on, trolley chock full of sad TV dinners and beer cans. To Johnny, it seemed like Simon only came out of his shell on base, amongst his friends. But as a civillian…

Yeah, Johnny can practically imagine him sitting in his darkened flat, scarfing down protein bars and counting down the days until they were back on the job.

Coworker gossip aside, all the food talk was making Johnny’s stomach rumble, and the fact that they’d be back in the UK just past one in the morning was not helping the vicious craving he had for Peri Peri chicken.

“I miss sausage rolls,” he slurs. God, when had Kyle’s shoulder gotten so comfortable? Somewhere between pint three and four?

“Jaffa cakes,” Price offers.

“Fuck,” Kyle groans, head thrown back against the sofa cushions.

Simon mumbles something underneath his breath. It’s slurred and nearly incoherent. Johnny peaks open a single eye to look over at where he sits in his stool, leant up against the wall because he was too drunk to sit up straight anymore. Idly, he laughs. God, if only the guys on the other side could see him now: the infamous Ghost, blackout drunk next to some faded Playboy poster.

Fuck.

Soap has half a mind to take a picture of it if only so that he could tease Simon about it when they were nursing hangovers on the plane tomorrow morning.

However, Simon doesn’t make to speak up again, and the rest of them don’t comment. Instead, they continue sipping on their final drinks, all of them watching with rapt attention as the ceiling fan makes another circle.

“Miss my couch,” Price suddenly chimes.

Another few seconds. Another few circles.

“I miss steak pie,” he suddenly finds himself drawling eyes unwittingly closed, “The one my ma used to make…”

“Chicken dippers—the kind you put in the oven…” Gaz responds, “And fresh chips.”

“Chicken noodle soup,” Price hums, “Mum used to make the best…”

Just imagining the taste, Johnny could burst into tears. God, it’s been a long six months, eating nothing but mess hall mashed potatoes and MREs. He’s just about to chime in when Simon’s arm shifts against the wall and he manages a slurred sentence.

“Pasta and shrimp,” he says, voice unfocused like the reply was completely unconscious, “With…white wine and butter…”

At that, Soap furrows his brows—even with his eyes still closed. Simon drank white wine? Simon  “Ghost” Riley, the man who wore a literal human skull on his face and had a tattoo of an AK-47 on his forearm, drank white wine and ate shrimp pasta when he was off duty?

Hm.

Never guess a book by its cover, he supposes.

Another silence ensues, one that’s punctuated with the somber, quiet atmosphere of the early morning and months without comfort. Now that the beer has dried up, and the battery on the speaker had died, there was nothing left except for a quiet yearning for a place that wasn’t here. A place that was faraway and over seas, full of life and love, as well as all the people who were waiting for them to come back.

“I miss doing the laundry,” Price says, voice…unreadable.

“Miss going grocery shopping,” Gaz huffs quietly.

“I miss…” Johnny beings, nearly falling asleep, “I miss going home.”

With that, it all drops dead. There’s no more fanfare, no more celebration. Not for what they’d achieved or what they’d done. There was only reality, cold and hard, weighing on their shoulders like a barbell. 

That is, until Simon makes a long sigh, clumsily leaning his elbows on his knees. He swipes over his face, tired and smashed.

“Fuck,” he says, “I miss my wife.”

At that, three pairs of eyes shoot open all at once. Suddenly, sleep seems like a faraway dream. And even if his head spins, Johnny straightens up in his chair.

“What?” Kyle asks, voice so sharp Soap would have thought he was sober.

“Miss my wife,” Simon drawls, taking a breath, “It’s been…six months.”

“But…” Soap furrows his brows, sending Price a questioning look from across the room. Even the Captain seems puzzled, sending Johnny an eager nod in approval.

“But…you have a wife?” Soap manages, wiping his eyes to see Simon’s exposed smile even a little bit clearer.

“‘Course I fuckin’ do,” he answers, nearly falling off of his stool when he straightens back up, “She’s waitin’ for me back home. Doesn’t know I’ll be back tomorrow…”

“But you have a wife?!” Kyle edges, leaning forward on his elbows like this was astonishing news. And Johnny does, too, because of course it fucking was. His lieutenant? Married? Had hell frozen over?

“What?” Simon glances around the room, lips pulled into a clumsy scowl, as if the answer were obvious, “Price has a wife. S’not all that weird…”

“Had,” Price corrects, taking another gulp of beer, “Divorced last year.”

“Whatever,” Simon flippantly waves his hand, leaning back into the wall like he could pass out at a moments’ notice, “Fuck the lot of you. My wife is...Fuck, I miss her.”

“No—didn’t mean it like that, it’s just…” Kyle swallows, trying valiantly to wrack his brain for any singular instance where Simon could have mentioned a girlfriend, “Never heard how the two of you met.”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“Guess I just forgot,” Gaz lies through his teeth.

“Mm…” Simon swipes his palm over his stubble, head lolling, “Met her a couple years ago. She lived across the hall. Y’know, neighbors ’n all that shite…”

As Simon readies himself to speak another word, Price leans forward, too, the three of them watching with equal amounts of bewilderment as Simon explains his supposed “wife.” If he was being truthful, Johnny still didn’t believe it. To have a pretty little thing waiting for him at home, cooking him dinners with white wine and grilled shrimp…sue him if it all feels like a grand lie. Another joke Simon would play on them.

“She brought me biscuits when she moved in,” Simon huffs, eyebrows raised like he was imagining the taste of it himself, “God, they were so good…I miss that. Her biscuits. She makes ‘em so good. Cherry pie, too…She makes ‘em on movie night. Whole batches of ‘em. She doesn’t even complain when I eat ‘em all. She just makes more. Fuck, she’s too sweet…”

Simon rubs his fingers over his eyes, mouth closing—like he didn’t have an entire audience captivated with his drunken slurs. 

“And…?” Gaz prompts, practically unblinking.

“Well…I mean, when I opened the door I hated it,” he snorts, unconsciously smiling, “‘Cause I don’t want some neighbour makin’ a racket when I get home from work, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

“Totally.”

“Completely understandable.”

“But then…” Simon rubs over his lips, eyes hazy, “Had to return the container. ’N so I went over one night, and she was makin’ dinner. Said she didn’t have any friends in the city, and…I felt bad so I ate with her.”

Kyle scrunches his face, sending Soap a questioning look. He leans over to Johnny’s ear, letting out a conspicuous whisper.

“Some romance this is,” he jokes, chortling.

Soap’s inclined to agree. The most romance he could imagine for his lieutenant would be a hookup in the bar bathroom, nothing more. Home made cookies and white wine dinners with the girl next door seems like a pipe dream…

“So you got with her cause she cooks well?” Price asks, smirking.

“What?” Simon’s lips curl into a snarl, and he glares in Price’s direction, “What makes you think that?”

“Nothin’ just…” Price quirks his head, smirk widening into a smile.

“No,” Simon growls, passionate but much too inebriated to make it eloquent. Price chuckles, raising his hands in faux surrender, “S’not that, she’s just…she’s so good to me.”

“So, then,” Kyle stifles a laugh, “You got with her because—”

“Don’t talk about m’wife like that,” He warns, rolling his eyes, “She’s too sweet for that. Didn’t let me kiss her until the third date…”

“So you dated her?” Soap asks in awe, “Like, for how long?”

“For…” Simon concentrates, taking in a low inhale, “Until December…Before we came out here.”

At that, the three of them send each other confused looks, brows scrunched.

“So she was dating you until you came out here?” Kyle pushes, “I thought you said that she was your wife…”

“She is,” he hums dreamily, a small smile overcoming his scarred lips, “Went to the courthouse ’n everything. Gave her my last name. She said she didn’t wanna let me go until I made her mine…’n so I did. Don’t tell her, but I like it like that. Her havin’ my name. It sounds prettier with mine right next to hers.”

“Yeah?” Price chuckles, hiding behind his bottle, “’N what’s her name?”

Simon lolls his head to look at Price, clumsily readjusting himself in his seat. He crosses his arms over his chest, trying and failing to look as intimidating as he is when he’s sober.

“Not telling you,” he sighs, “You lot would just fuck with her…”

“No, I swear we won’t,” Johnny scoots up in his seat, “Just…c’mon, Ghost, what is it?”

Simon’s eyes are pensive as he looks down at Soap, worrying his cheek. That is, until he opens his mouth.

“Definitely not tellin’ you, MacTavish,” he grunts, “Don’t want some git like you hittin’ on my wife…”

Soap’s face falls, unduly offended. Price and Kyle, however, only laugh just that much harder, practically spitting up liquor with every noise. Johnny, however, can only cross his arms in anger. 

“Whatever, s’not like the lass even exists anyway,” Soap rolls his eyes, gesturing towards Simon’s inebriated state, “What’s next, Simon? Gonna say she goes to another school or some shite?”

“Just ‘cause I got a pretty thing at home doesn’t mean you have to be jealous, Johnny,” he defends himself, “Just upset that I got a girl who loves me ’n you don’t…”

“M’not jealous—”

“No, no, Johnny’s right, Simon,” Price interjects, shoving Johnny back with a hand against his chest, “it’s just…no offense, but you haven’t talked about her…well, uh—not that much, anyway. And her being your wife…I mean, I don’t quite believe it.”

“What, gonna ask me for pictures or something?” Simon screws his face up in disgust, “Yeah, right…Try ’n cop a look and I’ll lay you flat.”

Before Johnny can ask for said pictures (let alone what kind of photos Simon had of his supposed “wife”) John nails him with a look, zipping his mouth shut.

“No, not that just…” Price shrugs, gesturing towards Simon’s phone on the table, “Call her or something. Tell her you’re coming home tomorrow. Sure she’d love to hear from you.”

“No, not right now,” Simon groans, resting his arms on the table, “Fuck…she gets mad when m’drunk. Doesn’t want me out late. She gets scared when she’s at home alone, wants me there to keep her safe. She needs me at home, y’know…She doesn’t sleep well when she has the bed to herself. Can’t be sloshed like this…”

“Well,” John smiles, “All the more reason to tell her you’re coming home tomorrow, yeah? It’ll be fine, just…call her.”

Simon seems to debate it for a moment, wavering in his spot on the stool. Meanwhile, Price, John, and Johnny all watch with rapt attention, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Simon reaches to tap at his phone screen, navigating through the apps on pure muscle memory, they’re on the edge of his seat. But when he taps a contact, the ambient sounds of a tone ringing, they’re nearly vibrating—that is, until the ringing halts with a spur of static.

“Hello?” A female voice answers.

Instantly, all three of them go from lounging in their chairs to leaning over the table in utter disbelief, staring down at the screen with unblinking eyes.

“Hey, love,” Simon calls, the word slipping out of his mouth like it was second nature.

“Simon?” You ask, “Is that you?”

Your voice peaks around his name, some ambient shuffling in the background as you no doubt stood up from wherever you’d been sitting before—delighted to hear from him.

“Yeah, it’s me, love.”

“Hey,” you say in response, an awed giggle exiting your mouth, “I—I thought that I wouldn’t hear from you for another week…”

“No, just…finished the mission early. Cuffed the bastards like…five hours ago. It’s just me ’n the boys now.”

“Really?” You exclaim, a broad smile in your voice, “You’re not lying?”

“No, love, I was jus’ calling ‘cause I wanted to tell you I’ll be home tomorrow.”

Simon’s voice is softer around the words, kinder. Almost like he thought the rough baritone of his voice would grate on your ears. Well, that, or he was just too drunk to hide how infatuated he was with you. Hell, the smile on his face—small and imperceptible—was almost so telling Johnny would have thought you were standing right in front of him if he hadn’t heard your voice coming through the speakers.

However, Johnny’s a little too busy to articulate that particular thought right now. No, his jaw was firmly on the table, listening to Simon sweet talk his wife through the phone line.

Simon had a wife.

Simon had a bloody wife and he didn’t fucking tell them.

The mangey bastard, Soap whips his head around to look at Simon, about ready to curse at him before you speak up again. 

“So it all went well? You’re—you’re not hurt are you?”

“No, just tired…” Simon huffs, “Wanna fuckin’ sleep, and…I wanna go to Gregg’s when I get back.”

At that, you can’t contain the flowery laugh you release. It’s so melodic Soap has a hard time connecting Simon’s monologue with the vision of you he’s getting now.

Pretty thing like you showed up at his flat, a box of cookies in hand, with that sweet voice and beautiful laugh and Simon didn’t jump at the chance? Fucking unbelievable.

Though, looking at the man now, Johnny has no doubt that Simon was about ready to get down on his knees and kiss the ground that you walked on. Literally. He seemed about drunk enough to do it, too.

“Simon,” you scoff, “Are you drunk?”

At the dreaded question, Simon sighs all too obviously, closing his eyes, “Yeah.”

You don’t get angry. No, you only giggle to yourself once more, a quiet exasperation in your voice.

“Babe,” you huff, and Soap imagines that you cross your arms, “Y’know, you can have Gregg’s any time you want…Don’t you want a dinner at home before we leave for Italy?”

“Italy?” Kyle raises his eyebrows, whispering.

Johnny does the same. Only, the alcohol catches up to him before he can pretend to be subtle.

“You’re going to Italy right after ye get home?” He asks Simon, nearly yelling.

“Shut up, Soap, m��talking to my girl right now,” Simon grunts, too sloshed to be mad.

“Who was that?” You interject, but before Soap can reach for the phone, Simon clumsily shoves him away.

“No one you should talk to, love,” he shakes his head like you could see it through the phone, “Just…yeah, you’re right.”

“Okay, then,” you laugh, “Well, what do you wanna eat? I’ll have it made before you get home.”

Simon considers the question for a few seconds, like it was of monumental importance to him. When he speaks, he speaks precisely…even if it is slurred with alcohol.

“Can you make that—that pasta? Y’know, like, with the shrimp and the wine…”

“You mean white wine pasta?” 

“Yeah, that one…”

“White wine pasta…” Soap furrows his brow, releasing a disbelieving chuckle, “Dinnae know you liked white wine, LT…”

“I don’t…”

“Then why do you want it when—”

“It’s in the pasta,” you laugh, barely able to get through your words without being interrupted, “He doesn’t drink it.”

“Oh,” Soap says stupidly, tempted to introduce himself, if only so that he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself in front of his friend’s wife. But what would he say?

Oh, hello, Mrs. Riley. Sorry, we force fed your husband weed and menthols until he was too high to remember not to tell us about you?

Yeah, he should save the formalities for later.

“Well,” your voice is staticky through the phone, “If that’s it, then I guess that’s fine. You sure you don’t want me to make anything else? It’s been six months."

“I know,” he professes, like it was some grand hurt in his heart, “Fuck…I miss you.”

You only laugh, voice sickly sweet and cloying, “I miss you too, baby. Know when you’ll be home?”

“We’ll be at the airport late…Probably after one.”

“Want me to pick you up?”

“Yeah,” he sniffs, wiping at his face, “Don’t wanna bother with the transport…”

“Got it,” you hum, “I’ll see you then.”

“Okay,” Simon relents, but before he can forget himself, he suddenly perks up, huddling closer to the speaker, “Hey, love, wait a minute.”

“What?”

“When you drive there, promise me you’ll be careful, yeah? The car’s still…fucked,” he explains simply, almost like he couldn’t come up with a way to describe it when he was so drunk, “Just—check the power steering fluid. Make sure it’s topped off. You’ve been doing it like I showed you?”

“Yeah, but…” you make a small noise, “We’re kinda running out…”

“That’s okay, love. Don’t worry about it,” he answers, “So long as its topped off I’ll know you’re safe. I’ll take care of it when I get home…’n I’m not so tired.”

Once again, you chuckle, “Got it, Simon.”

“See you tomorrow?” He asks.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, baby.”

“Good,” he finishes, letting out a long sigh, “When you get to the airport, wear that white dress. The pretty one, y’know. That way I can pick you out of the crowd.”

“Simon, you don’t have to make an excuse to get me to dress up…”

“Yeah, but…” he smiles down at the phone, looking all too sick and in love, “Want you to look good before we leave for Italy.”

“Don’t worry about that, Simon,” you snort, “I’ll give you a whole tour of all the clothes I bought while you were gone.”

“Can’t wait,” he supplies, eyes closing around the words, “Tomorrow.”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

“I love you,” he says without even thinking, staring down at your screen name with blackened pupils, “Sleep well, love.”

“I’ll sleep better once you’re home,” you tell him emphatically, “I love you, too, baby.”

With that, the line goes dead, and all that remains is Simon’s swaying form and his friends’ locked jaws. The three of them are so stunned they can barely speak, looking back and forth between Simon’s face and his phone like all of this would suddenly start making sense the more they wracked their brains about it.

“M’fucking knackered,” Simon suddenly says, planting his hands on the table top, “Can’t be too tired when I get home tomorrow…”

“Wait—you said you’re gong to Italy when you get back?” Kyle questions, grabbing Simon by the sleeve when he gets up to leave.

“Yeah,” Simon answers—like it was just common sense. Kyle, however, can only roll his eyes.

“Well, what for?”

“Our fuckin’ honeymoon,” Simon shoves Kyle’s hands away, “Just got bloody married and you think I wouldn’t treat my girl right. You lot are fuckin’ twats,” he shakes his head, climbing the stairs before any of them can say another word, “Bloody cavemen. The lot of you.”

They watch, stunned, as Simon scales the stairs, clinging to the hand rail like he’d go tumbling down without it. And judging by his clunky steps, he really might. However, when the door up top opens with a squeak and is slammed closed right after, Soap figures he can leave the man to his own devices tonight. Slowly, the three of them exchange looks between each other, all equally puzzled as the next.

“Honeymoon?” Kyle whispers.

“Simon’s a newlywed?” Price hisses.

Above, they hear Simon’s footsteps plod away, getting lighter and lighter as they go. At that, Soap can only laugh disbelievingly, shaking his head.

“Fuck me,” he curses, staring down at the table in awe. He looks at all the empty bottles, at the brimming ash tray.

“You think if he sleeps it off he’ll forget?”

“Better hope so,” Price sneers, standing from his chair, “Otherwise, he might accuse you of hitting on his wife again.”

Soap deadpans once again, glaring at the captain, “I was not—”

“Yeah, tell the newlywed husband that,” the Captain waves over his shoulder, “Who knows, might pummel your face in before you get back to Edinburgh. Sure the cashier at Nando’s would love to see that.”

“Whatever,” Soap rolls his eyes—not for the first time.

Kyle’s hand claps down on his shoulder,  and his friend sends him a widening smile.

“You’re fucked, mate,” he supplies simply.

[hinatiny]

crazy ੈ✩‧₊˚ akaashi keiji

in which akaashi is so crazy for you, he barely knows how to cope with it. getting you flustered is one way though.

w.c: 0.6k

akaashi loves you. so much, so dearly, that he’s convinced he’ll die if you ever slip away from his fingers. he’s convinced heaven and all that is holy is wherever you are, and that he’ll be denied access if he ever does something atrocious enough for you to leave him.

akaashi loves you. so much, so deeply, that it hurts, as if loving you equals diving into a vast ocean of emotions where every wave carries the sweetest currents of affection.

akaashi loves you. so much, so intensely, that he feels like he could cry.

of course, he doesn’t. at least not while you’re sitting in a study room - doing anything and everything but studying. he knows that if he were to suddenly tear up and sniffle and sob out of nowhere, it would only worry you, and what is he supposed to say when you question it? “i just love you so much and it sometimes scares me that i’m able to love someone to this extent, i genuinely can’t see a future where you’re not part of it and if there is one like that i don’t want it because maybe we’re just some goofy college students right now but i can’t wait to move in with you in our new apartment next month because there’s nothing i want more than to spend the rest of my life with you and all of this is so overwhelming but i wouldn’t change that for the world.” is that how he feels? most definitely. will he express that? nah, not really.

akaashi doesn’t say much, for now content with listening to you ramble on about your day, your yesterday, your tomorrow, your new plastic plants you’d bought for your apartment, your storage of gossip newly stocked from some of your classmates, and everything between heaven and earth as you munch on pocky every now and then. he doesn’t say much, but you can tell he’s still attentive to every word you say by the way he nods, hums, occasionally comments something or asks for further details. more than anything though, you know he’s listening by the fondness in his eyes and the small but true smile that lingers on his lips.

“so i’m not crazy for wanting to clock her that day, am i? i mean, obviously i didn’t do it or i would probably get expelled but with her attitude i clearly wasn’t in the wrong for at least considering it, right?”

now, akaashi doesn’t condone violence, and he would stop you had you ever decided to act on that option, but he nods in the palm of his hand, puffs an airy chuckle before expressing that you weren’t in the wrong. if that’s enough to make you laugh at him for even agreeing, he’ll make such exceptions any day of the week.

“you know, normal people wouldn’t agree like that,” you grin.

“you know, normal people wouldn’t consider clocking a classmate for something like that.” akaashi raises a playfully judgemental eyebrow at you.

“well, guess i must be crazy then.” you giggle at the sigh he lets out, following up with how you have to stop saying such things so proudly, although his smile widens the slightest bit. you tuck a chocolate-coated stick between your lips, speaking past it, “but you still love me.”

he blinks at you, once, twice but soon gets up his feet, hardly rushed but fast enough for you to not properly process how his palm shortly after goes from his chin to fall flat on the table; the one of his other hand finds your jaw, holding your cheeks so gently, just barely squeezing them between his fingertips. 

akaashi does love you, so so so much, he doesn’t doubt for a second that he might be the luckiest man on earth. he doesn’t express that either though, and instead hides his overflowing emotions behind a sly smirk as he tucks the other end of the stick between his own lips. “guess i’m even crazier then.”

[bunnylovesani]

Daddy Issues

(This is what I imagine him looking like in this fic)

Content warnings: MDNI, reader has daddy issues, 20 year age gap, Anakin is your best friend’s dad, drinking, fingering, dirty talk, general smut with a bit of fluff

WC: 2.6k

You and Leia met in your first year of college and your friendship quickly blossomed. Despite being from the same town, you’d never bumped into each other. If you had, you’re sure you would’ve remembered him. The first time you’d met him was Christmas, 4 years ago; it was your first time coming round to the Skywalker residence and all you knew was that Leia was raised by a single dad, who was now in his 40s. The moment you laid eyes on him, you were fascinated. He had dark blonde hair which curled into golden ringlets at the ends and a mysterious quality about him you were sure made the women weak at the knees- how he’d managed to stay single for most of his life was beyond you.

Despite your fervent initial attraction to him, you tried your best to put all of it aside. Besides the obvious reasons to restrain yourself, he was also the first positive male figure you’d had in your life. He was a damn good father; always present in Leia’s life and, since you two were joined at the hip, by extension yours too. You ignored every sign, every impulse, every sizzling moment of tension that came between you two- tension you naturally assumed was one sided- he’s a decent, respectable man after all.

You had it all under control- until you received a call confirming the graduate program you’d applied for months ago had been accepted. The subsequent week was spent getting daydrunk while hesitantly packing your entire life into a van full of brown boxes- or rather, directing Leia to do it for you since you were too inebriated. It all boiled down to your final night; one last night in the suburbs you’d felt suffocated by your entire life before you moved to the big city to start your shiny new life.

So why did you feel sad? You suspected you knew the reason but spent the better half of an evening denying it and battling the growing urge to pay him a visit. Eventually, when the reality that you were about to leave him forever sunk in, you found your feet taking you out the door of their own volition. Preparing to ambush him with the help of some liquid courage you’d choked down prior to leaving, you rung the doorbell of his house for what you thought may be the last time.

“Oh, hey honey. Leia just left to spend the night at her boyfriend’s house, you just missed her. I thought you’d already said your goodbyes?”. He innocently questions as he opens the door and lets you in.

“I know, it’s you I came to say goodbye to.” You say anxiously, staring at him intensely through your lashes.

“I see, I’m honoured.” He smiles and approaches you, pulling you into a hug. “Good luck with everything sweetheart, stay safe and above all- remember to have fun! Life passes you by in an instant and one day you’ll wake up as old as I am and kick yourself for not grabbing every opportunity you had.”

“Funny you say that, Sir. That’s the exact mantra I’ve adopted recently. Fuck it, right?” You help yourself to the glass of whiskey he was holding out of his hand and take a sip.

“Can I sit with you for a little while?” You plop onto his cushioned couch before he can reply.

“Erm, yeah of course, make yourself at home.” He says welcomingly, though with a perplexed expression on his slightly wrinkled face. “Are you okay?” He wonders if there’s a reason you’re acting so strange. You don’t usually drink.

“I’m great, thank you Sir.” You bat your lashes. “Just feeling sentimental with the circumstances and all.”

“How many times have I said, call me Anakin. I know I’m old but after so many years I’d say we’re on a first name basis.” He chuckles, taking a seat beside you on the sofa, keeping a respectable distance. “I know I’m nothing much to you but I really do think of you and Leia as my girls. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.” He says endearingly, smiling at you kindly.

That’s when you’re reminded of the reason you came here tonight. You had every intention of telling him how you truly felt, how you’d had a raging crush on him from the moment you met him- and now that you might never see him again, you saw no reason why you shouldn’t act on those feelings.

But hearing him compare you to his daughter filled a hole you felt inside you ever since your father abandoned you- while simultaneously making you feel sick to your stomach.

You stared into his warm eyes, encased with crows feet and accompanied by two prominent creases on his forehead. You shouldn’t find a man of his age so attractive but you do.

“You know, I don’t think you’re old.” You state simply.

“What?” He asks somewhat confused by your meaning.

“You said one day I’ll wake up as old as you. I don’t think you’re old at all. If anything, you’re in your prime.” You look away. “You’re not nothing to me either.”

He looks visibly stunned, though he tries to mask it by refilling a glass of whiskey, the brown liquid almost spilling everywhere.

“Right back at you, kid. Well I’m sure you’ve got a lot of packing to do so I won’t keep you. You need a ride?” He shuffles in his seat.

“No. Not the kind of ride you’re thinking of anyway.” A wave of boldness overcomes you and you feel the alcohol burning through your veins as you shuffle closer to him.

“Uh, I think that whiskey’s gone straight to your head. Why don’t I get you some water?” He’s about to get up but you grab him by the hand and force him to stay seated, holding onto it longer than necessary.

“You know how I feel about you Anakin. I know you know.” You stare deep into his mature blue eyes as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down with an apprehensive gulp.

“Now that’s enough young lady. You absolutely should not be thinking about me in that way. I’m almost twice your age.” He sternly warns you and you can’t help but wince. The way he’s scolding you is triggering some deep rooted daddy issues. You knew you always had them to some extent but you never knew just how bad they were until you met Anakin.

“I dont mean to make you uncomfortable, I just couldn’t hold it back anymore. I’ll leave right now if you want me to, you’ll never see me again. Just tell me you don’t feel anything towards me and I’ll be on my way.” You’re huddled over him with your legs on the sofa, hand slowly inching its way towards his thigh.

A flash of conflicting emotions run through his eyes- he’s obviously embarrassed, perhaps shocked - though you find it hard to believe he had no clue at all- but there’s something else. He’s debating with himself, you can see the cogs whirring in his mind.

“I can’t say that.” He meets your gaze. “I care about you a lot, you know that. Which is why you need to leave. You’re not in the right state of mind.” He gets up again but you pull him down and climb onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I have been in love with you for 4 years, Anakin. You are my every waking thought. I know it’s wrong and you’d never be with me but I can’t control myself. If I can’t have you forever, let me have just this one night- please.” You wait for him to object to the way you’re sitting on him but to your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Alright, honey.” He grumbles softly after a little while, looking at you with a subdued expression that conveyed both concern and understanding. “Alright, if that’s what you want, I’ll give you what you want. I’m yours for the night.”

You sit there, stunned. You were fully expecting him to kick you out of the house and tell Leia everything. You were expecting anything other than him giving in. Is he just taking pity on you and thinks this will help you get over your daddy issues? He knows you have them. Or is he as sick and twisted as you are?

“Can…can I…” You lean in, pressing your fingertips against his lips.

“Leave it all to me sweetheart. Daddy will make it all better.” He wastes no time taking your hands into his own and kissing your fingertips softly, before pressing his lips against yours.

You’re too stunned to react so you allow him to kiss your motionless lips, your eyes still wide open in disbelief. You’d never been so grateful to someone for taking the lead.

“Close those pretty eyes for me baby, you’re safe now.” He kisses your eyelids softly and his gentle caresses awaken a deep urge within you.

You grab at his collared shirt, loosening his tie and unbuttoning it. “Been working more late nights at the office?” You mumble into his lips as you push the crisp white shirt off his shoulders, leaving his muscles exposed.

“That’s because I have two women in my life who bleed me dry.” He chuckles and you smile at the memory; he’s shelled out for you on more than one occasion- from plane tickets and birthday gifts to a new MacBook for college because your one broke and you couldn’t afford another since you’d been fired from your waitressing job- he even agreed that that guy deserved to get a drink thrown in his face for grabbing you. He said that if he were there, he would’ve done worse.

Before you freefall into a psychoanalytical hole, Anakin rips your skirt off - it’s as if he can hear your mind working overtime. You gasp a little as he kneads the fat of your ass cheeks roughly, guiding you until you’re grinding against him. You can feel him getting hard, and oh did it feel big. You’d stolen subtle glances at his crotch on numerous occasions, contemplating what it might look like, what colour the tip might be, what it might taste like. You couldn’t bare to be left in the dark any longer so you reached for his belt and impatiently started undoing it- but you were stopped by his large hands cupping yours.

“Not just yet princess. I wanna take my time with you.” He whispered coarsely and the feeling of his warm breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine. Before you knew it, he had spun you around so that you were sitting on his lap with your back facing his front. He traced his tongue in big open kisses along your neck while his hands trailed up and down your thighs, before he hooked his fingers around your panties.

“Lets get these off shall we?” He purred and his words sent sparks straight down to your core. He lowered your underwear only down to your knees, before spreading your legs a little, his hand placed under one of your thighs to keep it up. You felt the cold air hit you and knew instantly that you were soaked.

You breathing was reduced to short little pants as his fingers reached the inner folds of your pussy, and it felt like every caress touched your soul. You started squirming about in his lap as two of his fingers slid into you.

“Goddamn… oh baby, I didnt even mean for that to happen but you’re just so wet they slipped right in.” You mewled at his lustful words as he curled his fingers inside you, rubbing your clit with the base of his thumb.

“Oh Ani…ah fuck!.” You cried. “Anakin!”

“Yes sweetheart, what is it?” Gaining speed, he grabbed your cheeks with his free hand and turned your head to force you to look at him but you were too stimulated to respond.

“Do you hear how wet you are? And here I thought you were a good girl.” He maintains eye contact and your cheeks flush at the lewd sounds coming from your core. You take a glance and see his hand is glistening with your arousal, wetness squelching as it pours down to the Rolex on his wrist.

“Aah…I, I’m sorry daddy! Mm can’t help it” You manage to squeal out, embarassed by how wet and helpless he made you.

“Don’t you dare apologise sweetheart. Daddy loves how wet this pussy gets. Is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes Sir it’s all for you- mm all yours!” You moan as you feel your climax fast approaching. “Please can I cum? Pleasee daddy!”

“Yes princess, cum for me.” He pumps his fingers in and out of you at such a tempo you have to hold onto his arms for stability.

As if someone opened a dam, your orgasm washes over you and you let out a stupified scream- you wanted to say his name but your brain is so scrambled all you can manage is a mumbled moan of incoherent syllables.

“Such a good girl baby, well done honey.” He plants kisses all over your cheek and neck as your heart rate climbs down.

As you come down from your high, the realisation of what you’re doing dawns on you. As if he could read your mind, he takes your face into his hands.

“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours? If you think you’ll regret it, tell me now. I don’t think I could handle it if we made love and you woke up regretting it.” He speaks softly, as if being too harsh might scare you away.

“No, no it’s not you.” You quickly respond. “I just feel a little cheap. I don’t ever have one night stands so I’m kinda out of my depth here… and the guilty thoughts about Leia creeping up on me don’t help either.”

“Hey, you’re not cheap.” You scoff at his attempt to reassure you. “Stop that, I mean it. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you regardless of the outcome of this. But…I mean I’m out of my depth here too. If we’re being honest, I haven’t had sex in years.” Anakin admits and your jaw drops. How could a man this damn fine not get laid for that long?

“It’s a personal choice.” He corrects before you jump to any conclusions about what might be wrong with him. “I don’t like one night stands either and if I’m not in love, I have no real interest in sex.” Your heart leaps at the insinuation- if he’s willing to sleep with you, that must mean…right?

“So let’s not have a one night stand then.” He continues and your heart drops. I guess you thought wrong.

“Let’s keep seeing each other. I ache all over at the thought of this being the last time I see you. I need you in my life. I don’t care if it’s wrong, I don’t care what people say. Leia will come round to the idea eventually, she has to.”

“I love you.” You reply a little too quickly, staring at him with so much admiration you think your heart might burst.

“I love you too, my sweet girl.”

Part 2

[blakeswritingimagines]

Brand New Man

Summary: You seem to have won your husband's heart all over again after the news of you having his child until he shows you how truly his heart is to you.

A/N: This is a technical part 2 still just an alternative with the happy ending everyone wanted. The first half is the same just so it flowed easily.

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Part 1 Burn The House Down

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

"I'm pregnant." She spoke softly.

His eyes widened for a split second before he broke out in a soft chuckle. Was he imagining things, or were you truly saying what he thought he heard? “Do you mean it?” He asked slowly, taking in every word. He was unsure, but this would explain the weight gain, as well as why you had been so… moody. He had no other choice but to believe you for now. A child! This changes everything. Aemond was shocked. “P…. Pregnant?! Are you… serious?!” He was speechless. He tried to keep his composure but he could not hide his joy and excitement. Was it true, you were carrying his child? The thought alone sent his heart racing. He looked at you and put a smile on his face. This was the news he had been waiting for all this time. And he looked you straight in the eyes. “Is this true?” he asked, his eyes filled with joy and wonder. You heard Aemond's reaction, his eyes widened in shock and excitement. And you knew it was as you expected. You were truly carrying his child. "Yes, it is…" You replied in a sweet voice as your face grew bright with a wide smile. You felt so happy that Aemond was excited about the news, hoping the tension between you both would dissolve. "I am pregnant with our child." You continued, as you placed your hand on your stomach. "I've been trying to keep it a secret, but it has become difficult to hide. I guess I can make it official." You laughed and glanced at Aemond, who seemed to be beaming with enthusiasm. You wanted him to be happy and to hear the news he had been waiting for all this time. "It's true," you said, your eyes shining brightly.

“A baby?!” Aemond said with a grin. “You’re saying we’re going to have a baby?!” He placed his hand on your stomach, as you had done. “My lovely wife… I had feared that this day would never come. I could not imagine a day when we would not bring forth the next generation of our house. But, my worries are gone. We have made what I most desired.” Aemond laughed with joy and embraced you, holding you close in his arms as his grin grew wider and wider. Your hand rested on your stomach, the movement of your hand looked as though you were comforting the child being carried within. And he was overjoyed by this revelation. This was no secret anymore. Aemond was a man changed. He smiled and took your hand bringing it to his lips and kissed it. "Our child. Our beautiful child."

Months later, the pregnancy went smoothly and you began to notice your belly growing larger and your mood changing. You felt your emotions become more intense as the pregnancy became more advanced. Your moods shifted from happy to angry to anxious to affectionate, all in the span of just a few hours. You could not explain it. Aemond knew your mood swings were common and he understood it the best he could. However, these mood swings of yours were becoming more frequent and intense as the pregnancy progressed. He was constantly finding himself walking on eggshells, unsure of which mood his wife might have. Your mood swings were often unpredictable, and Aemond never knew what to expect from one moment to the next. But he understood, you were carrying a life within you, it was bound to create such mood swings at the least. He had to be patient with you. And he was. The days he seemed to be distant were now fewer and further between the two of you, he was there by your side always. He could see the weight changes, you were getting rather large now. He could notice it in your face and around your midriff. It was not easy being married to someone who was so emotionally unstable. It was especially exhausting being forced to play the role of husband and father. He was constantly stressed about you and the baby and his nerves frayed at the slightest change in your behavior.

The pregnancy was taking a toll on you. Your mood swings were becoming more and more uncontrollable. You would be laughing one moment, sad the next, and you could not figure out what to do about it. You felt that you were losing yourself and had no control over your feelings. You were now getting closer and closer to the due date. Your belly was huge and you were uncomfortable even as you constantly asked if you were fat or pretty. You tried hard not to let it bother you, but it was getting more difficult to ignore. “My dear, you’re gorgeous.” Aemond’s tone was filled with love and kindness as he spoke to you. “You are bigger yes, because our child is too, but you are not fat. And you are not losing yourself.” He added as he held you close. “You are becoming a mother. These feelings are natural. You are carrying our child within you. Your emotions are bound to be different. This is how it should be. You are going to give life. You are becoming more beautiful with each day since the day I met you.”

You listened to him carefully as he tried to reassure you about your changing body. You felt your confidence rise at the way he talked, calming your nerves with his words. You looked into his eyes and saw nothing but love, nothing but honesty. "Thank you, my love… You are right. This is how it should be." You smiled faintly, feeling more at ease. You felt your mood shift slightly, your pregnancy hormones calming down. It felt good to hear the words come from him directly, not just in your head. He was happy to see, that his words were helping. He took you into his arms and held you. His hand stroked your belly, as he spoke. “You are more beautiful now than ever before.” Those were the words he believed in this moment. You were not getting larger, you were getting more beautiful. Because the child within you was, a part of you both. It was beautiful to him. Aemond kissed you, it was a long kiss, filled with love.

It had been a year since the day of the child’s birth. In many ways, a lot has changed. Aemond and you had grown even closer than before. The little bundle of joy was a source of joy for you both. Tonight you would learn something that would change everything, and he dreaded this moment. He led you into the garden. “My love.” He spoke softly. “The feast is going well, and I wanted to take some time with you to speak in private.” You were enjoying the peace of the garden, taking in your surroundings and breathing in the fresh air. You looked over at Aemond when you heard his voice, glancing up at him with a soft smile, seeming to have a certain air of importance about him. You could hear the music fading from the distance and the distant sounds of the party still ongoing, but your surroundings were now much calmer than before. "Is something wrong?" You asked in a sweet voice, as you stopped in your place and turned to face him. "What would you like to speak about?" You asked quietly, sensing that something was troubling him but not wishing to intrude.

He looked at you with a smile, but it did not reach his eyes. Your eyes were sharp and observant. He had to think carefully about his words. “Nothing is wrong. I just-“ His speech stumbled as he tried to find the right words. How could he say what he was about to say? “There is something. I have been meaning to speak to you about.” Your smile faltered as you noticed the change in his demeanor. You paused, waiting for him to continue, taking note of his hesitancy. It was obvious that there was something he wished to say, but was having difficulty doing so. You nodded gently, encouraging him to go on. This is going all wrong. The thought plagued his mind. This was not going the way he wanted. He did not want to lose you. “I have been distant from you…. More distant than I should have been.” He told you. “I have been distracted by my duties.” He paused. “I’ve been busy, but that is no excuse.” He began. “I apologize. I have let my responsibilities keep me from you, and that was something I should have avoided.”

"I have been concerned…" You said softly, listening to his explanation with a soft expression on your face. You were disappointed that he had been distant so easily, yet he seemed to have a good reason for it. "You have many burdens as a prince and as a husband. It is understandable." You gave a reassuring smile, though your eyes remained sharp, and observed his reactions to your replies. “I am thankful for understanding.” He began, choosing his words carefully. “And I want to start to remedy this. From today I will focus more on you and our son. My duties can wait, you and our child cannot.” You listened to his words keenly, watching him carefully, not wanting to interrupt him as he chose his words carefully. You were pleased to hear him express his desire to spend more time with you and your son, but there was still a part of you that was unsure. "You promise?" You asked gently, your voice soft and quiet. "You will no longer distract yourself with your duties? From now on, you will dedicate your time to our family?"

“I promise.” He told you in a quiet voice. “My duties are unimportant when compared to yours. You are my beloved wife, and I was a fool to forget that. My priority will always, and I mean always, be my family. Never again shall I make you feel that you have to beg for my attention. As long as you forgive me for my behavior. I promise,” he told you, speaking firmly. He could notice the doubt in your eyes. “I swear by all things that I hold dear. I will be a father to our son. Your husband and protector. And I will ensure that we all spend time together as a family. I have ignored you for far too long dear. I know the weight of these words, and I have no intention of going back. I swear it.” Your doubts seemed to dissipate as you listened to him pledge his devotion to you and your son. You began to believe in his words and felt the trust in your heart returning. You couldn't deny that you were pleased to hear him speak with such sincerity, his voice full of conviction as he made a solemn promise.

"I believe you," You told him softly, feeling reassured by his words and his tone. You took a deep breath and paused, allowing him time to speak. As you did, you wondered if perhaps there was something more he wished to tell you. A sense of relief washed over you as you heard his words. You were glad that he acknowledged his mistakes and vowed to change his ways. Your expression softened, and you took a step towards him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. "You are forgiven." You told him in a warm and loving voice, bringing your face closer to his. You were glad to see him change so quickly, and you were happy to have a husband like him who would dedicate time to the family. You were truly a good woman he thought. He was taken aback, as you spoke with compassion and understanding. He felt touched by this and felt the guilt leave him. A little at least. He did not expect you to walk a step closer, your hands reaching out to his face. His heart skipped when your hands touched him. Your lips were so close to his. He yearned for you. He missed you. He could not resist and he leaned forward and kissed you deeply. It was something he was wishing to do for a while now.

Aemond did not let up. He had been this hungry for a kiss before back when he first laid eyes on you. The passion was intense, as he pressed himself upon you. He wanted every last bit of you with a fire burning through him once more. You returned the kiss with the same vigor. The heat was palpable. Your movements were seamless, and you were as one again in this moment. It was one of the most heated kisses you had ever shared. It was the kiss of a man who had been away from his wife for far too long. The kiss was heated, and you could feel the intensity of his desire for you. You felt his hands exploring your body, his touch sending shivers of pleasure through your bones. Your breasts pressed up against him, and you let out a soft moan of enjoyment as you kissed, your tongues tangling and twining together in an erotic display of passion. You gave yourself up fully to him, submitting to his every move and giving him complete access to your body.

His hands groped and fondled your breasts, feeling your body responding to his touch. Everything about you was a sight to behold. Your body was pure bliss. You were a goddess in his eyes due to your beauty. Everything about you was perfect and you were his alone. Aemond found every inch of your body perfect. He felt his body grow warm and hot. Your moans turned him on, and he let out the same noises. The kiss was so intense that the world around you both seemed to disappear, and it was only you at that moment. Slowly pulling away he softly panted. "I'm sure we can sneak away to our bed chambers but for a moment no?". You chuckled softly, the kiss still lingering on your lips. You felt every inch of your body come to life in his passionate embrace, and you loved how he desired you. She looked up at him, smiling warmly. "I'm sure we can find a way out of here for a moment…" She leaned up and pressed her lips onto his, kissing him again, her tongue teasing his lips. "For a moment." She looked at him, blushing faintly. She was taken by surprise by his sudden urge to take her to their bedchambers, and her breath hitched softly at the thought. She glanced away nervously. "Let us go before we are caught," she advised softly. She did not resist his advance. The urge was mutual.

He grabbed your hand and ran with you out of the garden and straight into your room, closing the door and locking it behind you both. The adrenaline was rushing through his blood like a river. His eyes were blazing, and he was focused on one thing and one thing only. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as well, the excitement of what was about to happen filling you with energy. You followed him into the room, feeling his intensity as he locked the door and led you toward the bed. Your heart pounded in your chest with nervous anticipation, and your breathing quickened as you wondered what he had in mind. He picked you up and laid you on the bed. His breath was heavy and quick, as he looked at his beautiful wife. His heart beat heavily in his chest, with desire, and with intent. There was nothing that was going to get in the way of what he wanted to show you. He would make this up to you, he would take all his pent-up desire and release it.

He could not keep his eyes off of you. In this moment, he could only think of one thing, and that was you. You were the most beautiful thing in the world to him, and he would take you here. The heat of his desire for you was intense. You could feel the heat pouring off of him and onto you. He stood at the edge of the bed. He leaned in toward you and spoke in a low, animalistic tone. “I want you.” Staring up at him as he stood at the edge of the bed, his eyes burning into you with intense desire. Your breathing quickened, feeling the heat from his tone of voice. You leaned up on the mattress slowly, meeting him halfway as you let your body lean into him. You placed your hands on his shoulders, drawing him closer to you and closing the small gap between you. "Take me."

He chuckled softly, pulling you gently down onto the bed. You could feel his strength as he held onto you. You seemed so small and vulnerable, and he was the giant. He could do anything to you right now. He could take command of you and do as he wished with you before he started undressing you both. "Be rough…" You whispered in a breathy voice, your gaze locked on his. You trusted him completely, eager to see him reveal his passion again. You lifted your arms, allowing him to slide your clothes off, exposing your skin to him. You had missed this intensity only he could provide, and you were looking forward to being taken by him as he pleased. “Are you asking me to be rough with you?” He grinned, looking at you with desire in his eyes. “Or are you telling me?” He smirked, looking over your body with an almost predatory eye. Your words were like a challenge and an order to him. He gave a smile. He took the hint. Aemond did not wait another moment. He grabbed you by the waist and pinned you against the mattress. You could feel the power and strength of his grip, and you could feel how intense he was becoming. He started to kiss you passionately.

You gasped softly as he forced you onto the bed and pinned your body down, his strength sending jolts of electricity through your bones. His grip was firm the same way as when he first got your attention, and you could feel his intensity as he pinned you down, not allowing you to move or escape his touch, and you couldn't help but tremble from the pleasure. Your hands traced down his strong back, exploring his muscular physique as you let out a low moan in response. Aemond felt the chills run through your body as he pinned you down and took control of you. You were so small and your body so vulnerable. You were his now. Your moan did not go unnoticed. It excited him even more. He ran his hand down your back, exploring those curves and shapes that you always hid. It felt so good to touch you like this again. You let out another moan, which in turn caused Aemond to moan as well. He was so turned on he could barely control himself. Aemond looked at your body and smiled. You were perfection. Your breasts were perfect, the shapes of your body reminding him of a goddess. You were everything he desired and more. He lowered himself between your legs. He groaned as he kissed your thigh teasing you.

Your body trembled beneath the touch of his hands, your nerves tingling with exquisite sensation. You gasped softly, feeling him kiss your thighs, his touch teasing and tantalizing. You were filled with suspense, your breath caught in your throat, feeling him kiss and touch you in this way. Your lips parted, and you moaned softly as he started sucking on your skin again, your back arching slightly. As he kissed your thighs, he could feel your body arching and your breath becoming shorter. Your lips parted, and your moans were getting louder. You were enjoying it a lot. He took pleasure in this. He wanted more than anything to see you feel a wave of pleasure that broke down every wall and defense you tried to keep. As a result, he began to kiss higher and higher, toward your inner thighs. You seemed so sensitive Your breath was caught in your throat and you could barely moan. And you let out a soft moan from the feeling of his lips on your dripping cunt. and it was driving you crazy with anticipation. He was not letting up, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

The sensation of his lips kissing your swollen cilt was driving you crazy with anticipation, and you bit your lip to keep from whimpering. His kisses were so soft yet so intimate and sensual. You felt as though his mouth was a fire that was consuming your body, the heat radiating from his mouth as he licked and sucked sensually eating you like a man starved. You gripped the blanket tightly, trying to keep your moans quiet, yet his touch was making it impossible to do so. You were close to the edge, and it was becoming unbearable. Your reaction to him was everything he hoped for. You were reacting perfectly. You biting your lip was only making you more desirable to him. Your moans were growing louder and stronger with every motion he delivered to your pussy. He was not allowing you to feel anything but this sensation. Aemond could feel how close you were to the edge, and it caused him to moan as well. It was an incredible feeling. He wanted you to reach that point now. His kisses were getting more intense and his touch more passionate. The kiss had turned into a tease, he ran his tongue over you, your flesh as smooth as silk.

You couldn't take it anymore, and you let out a loud moan of his name, your body shaking uncontrollably with pleasure. Aemond's tongue was driving you crazy with need, and you couldn't resist anymore. Your back arched slightly as you pushed your hips against him, enjoying the feeling of his tongue. The heat inside you rose, and you felt your body grow restless and tense, wanting more and more. You had finally reached the edge, and you could not hold back anymore. Aemond had control of you in this situation, and he was going to take this opportunity to take what he wanted. There was no more teasing or playing. Your moans had driven him over the edge, and now he wanted to satisfy his desires and needs. Aemond was in a frenzy from the passion as your body quivered. He kissed you one more time and suddenly he grabbed you by the legs, pinning you down so you were unable to move. He was now going to take what he wanted while giving you more pleasure.

You gasped softly as Aemond pinned you down while moving to hover above you, the sensation of his hands on your skin sending shivers of excitement through your bones. You felt a wave of heat wash over your body, your heart rate rising as you were filled with a rush of primal desire. His hands on your body gave you a sense of powerlessness, yet his touch was filled with so much intensity and passion that it almost made you want him more. You were on the edge, and you eagerly awaited him taking you. Aemond saw the way you were responding to his touch. he understood your desires and your needs. He had never felt as in this moment as he was now. He saw the way your body heaved and your hips pushed into him. He was overwhelmed with desire and a need for you. He pinned your legs up into your chest, as it was easier to position you. He wanted every inch of you, and he intended to take you just like this.

You gasped softly as you felt the sensation of his cock stretching you out, his warm and firm body filling you completely. You felt his weight on top of you and liked the power that came with it. You could feel his hands exploring places you hadn't felt him touch before, your body quivering and your breaths coming out in soft sighs. Your body was overwhelmed with pleasure as you coupled together, the passion and energy building between you as your bodies moved together in a slow rhythm. Aemond enjoyed the control. He loved the feeling of his body against yours. He could hear your sighs and your moans of pleasure, which drove him crazy with desire. Your body was so responsive and you had no control over what he was doing. Your body was his, so to speak. Aemond could feel himself approaching a climax, this was something he couldn’t deny or fight against.

You liked the feeling of him on top of you like this again, his body pressed against yours. The power he had over you drove you crazy with desire and pleasure, the warmth and comfort of his body over yours making a feeling of protection wash over you. Your body was submissive to him at this moment, allowing him to do whatever he wanted with you. You couldn't help feeling turned on by the power dynamic between you two. The pleasure building within your body was becoming unbearable, and you were close to the edge. Aemond was in another world. All he could feel was the heat and joy he got from your body. You were so responsive and it was such a thrill to have you beneath him like this. He was enjoying himself immensely. Aemond would hold nothing back. He didn’t care if it was too intense, too much, or too strong. He just wanted to feel the ecstasy and pleasure that came with this. As you felt yourself approaching the edge once more, he would speed up the movement and his rhythm, making it more intense and passionate. With each moment that passed, he wanted you more and more. He knew you would break soon and he was enjoying every second of it. The pace of his actions and the rhythm of his motions were increasing. Your body was his to explore, savor, and delight in and he was going to do exactly that. Aemond made sure he would not finish quickly, he wanted this to last, so his strokes continued and became more aggressive.

Your breath hitched, feeling Aemond's passionate thrusts, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your body was tense and stiff, as you were getting closer and closer to your climax. Your thoughts went blank, and you focused on the sensation of his cock inside of you. You grunted softly as you moved together in a pleasurable motion, the heat, and desire building up more within you. You could feel yourself reaching the edge, a deep ache inside of you beginning to build. Aemond heard your grunts and he felt you tense up. You were getting close and clenching around his member. Each moment was so intoxicating, so enticing for him. The sounds coming from your mouth told him all he needed to know. He knew how close you were, and he was enjoying every second of it. The heat inside of him was increasing, as he neared the peak himself. Your body was quivering as you were pushing yourself closer and closer to that climax, that release that you wanted so badly. You were on the verge of explosion, everything that was pent up inside you was finally releasing. Your fingernails dug into his back as you grunted softly. The sounds of pleasure were heard across the chamber. Your eyes were locked with his, You were in an absolute state of bliss.

Your bodies moved with incredible intensity, a rhythm built between you. The sounds of pleasure from you both echoed throughout the bed chambers. He held you tight, not allowing you to move away or escape his touch. He was enjoying this way too much to let you go. He was right there with you. your pussy tightened against his cock as the sensations became overwhelming for you. He could hear your breathing become heavy and rapid. The sound made him tremble with desire as he reached his own climax. He was tired and spent. He was still panting as he looked down at you. Your eyes were closed as you attempted to catch your breath. He could sense this helped but couldn't help but think. The feeling of forgiveness. He took a breath and then spoke. “Do you forgive me?” You gasped softly as you were still recovering from the intense climax, your legs shaking slightly underneath you. Your eyes locked with his again, and you looked at him with the same emotion you did when he had first taken you. You were overwhelmed with a feeling of euphoria that was difficult to describe, you were so overwhelmed you couldn't say anything for a long moment until you caught your breath and whispered.

"Yes."

[bo0mcat]

Hi Joker Out Tumblr!

I’m not very active here but after seeing all the comments regarding the recent JokerOutSubs interview in London I had to respond.

I was the one who went to go and interview them in London and the response over the last couple of days has been incredibly emotional, and incredibly overwhelming, so firstly, thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for making me so indescribably happy. Seeing people say that they felt safe watching this interview, and that it’s going to be a comfort video for them, actually brought me to tears on a number of occasions.

I wanted to respond to a few comments that I’ve seen. The questions were mostly devised by me and @alephai . When we were perfecting the questions and going over ways we could make them as respectful as possible, she suggested that we ask permission from Bojan before jumping into personal questions about his anxiety. I immediately agreed and I’m so glad we insisted on keeping it in, even as the questions went through several redrafts. We are both strong advocates of mental health acceptance, and I certainly understand on a personal level how challenging it can be to talk about. We wanted to make sure he had the opportunity to not talk about it, if he didn’t want to, and we were prepared for multiple scenarios.

We also decided right from the beginning that we didn’t want to put our own interpretations on the band. We wanted to frame the questions so they could answer anything they wanted to them, and make it clear that we’re not trying to sensationalise or find some kind of clickbaity quote. A looooot of thought, time and effort went into the questions and we think that the band could sense that there was a lot of love, respect, and genuine admiration for what they do in them. We’re really glad everyone else noticed it too!

We were also really mindful that the questions flowed neatly into one another - for instance, the questions about Bojan’s anxiety got steadily less personal and lighter so it would move smoothly into the questions about music. Again I’ve seen loads of comments about this and it’s so validating to see that the hard work put in was noticed.

We were extremely mindful of appropriate boundaries, and kept the knowledge that we’re ultimately strangers to them front and centre. The main goal on the day was to be as professional as possible. I’m genuinely so happy that they felt relaxed and comfortable enough to open up. I’m glad to say there was never a moment in the room where there was any tension, it truly felt like having a chat with friends! Afterwards, Bojan asked me if I were a professional journalist (which I am not) and it really made me incredibly happy. They are all absolutely sweethearts and some of the warmest, kindest people I’ve had the pleasure to spend an hour with.

The aftermath of the interview was one of the most intense weeks of my life and I have to shout out to every member of @jokeroutsubs who worked on this one. The dedication I saw from the subtitles, translators and video editors was insane. Lots of conversations at mad hours of the morning trying to get this out to the highest possible quality, and I am, as ever, bowled over by the JOS team. To say that joining up with them has been life changing is an absolute understatement, and I’m glad to say that through JOS I’ve met a series of women without whom I can no longer imagine my life. Strong, intelligent women from all over Europe who I now consider to be my sisters, and whom I love incredibly dearly.

I have to mention the message at the end of the interview. This was the product of many months of conversation about the impact of Joker Out on Slovene society between me and several members of the slo team, something that it’s been amazing to learn about from the perspective of an English girl, and we’re so glad we had an opportunity to tell them. Massive thank you again for all the voice notes I was sent to help me practice my pronunciation. I wanted to make sure it was as good as I could possibly manage to show my respect for the Slovenian people, language and culture.

Lastly I wanted to say thank you for all the messages I’ve received complimenting me on this interview. Credit in this case has to be shared between so many people. It was truly a team effort and I’m just so happy I could contribute in giving something back to a band I love and admire, and a community that embraced me with open arms during a difficult time in my life.

I love you all, and thank you all for your wonderful words. X

[astrologicalsstuff]

explaining aspects through my synastry with my boyfriend

18+ MDNI - please don’t copy my work

Hey guys I’m back again it’s been a while

I have a new boyfriend well it’s actually been a few months but I just want to show off our synastry

💛Our synastry💛

His Sun conjunct my mercury

Our relationship is strongly based on communication. He has been very helpful in encouraging me in my communication (I have Saturn in gemini).

This is everything from using solid information. Giving me resources to use in school. Helping me with my homework, to communicating my feelings and needs in our relationship. He has also has connected me a lot more with technology.

Moon conjunct moon

Our moons are out of sign but my Venus is conjunct my moon so I thought it might be worth mentioning

His Moon conjunct my Venus

We stay in all the time and we stay up at night talking about any and everything. We’re mercurials, but this aspect just allows us to unpack everything together. We always go out just to end up talking to each other in a quiet corner somewhere.

His moon in my 5th house

Yeah there’s romance. We go on dates everyday on the weekends or we find anew recipe and cook for each other all the time. We go out to art shows and analyze art together. And movies. I think this also has to do with our 2nd house synastry, but I always give him things to decorate (Venus) his house (moon). And I know how to deal with his feelings, but he also gets mine (most of the time)

My NN directly conjunct his ascendant

SN on the descendant I’ve heard this can indicate knowing eachother in a past life and everytime I end up talking to someone with these aspects it’s never a new introduction it’s always I’ve seen you somewhere. Or we’ve met before, I’ve even had lots of people have dreams about me before meaeting them. Southbode aspects always start of in the middle of something for me.

We also have a very cute story which I feel like has to also do with our Venus synastry, but when we first met He said he saw me in San Francisco and that we went to school together, and I knew I never went to school in San Francisco but then he said last winter and I knew I went there to check out colleges last minute almost a year ago, and he said he remembered seeing me and always wanted to talk to me but never saw me again. We ran into eachother at a party randomly in a city 6 hours away.

My side was I saw him at a party and thought he was cute so I was being very flirty with like smiles and staring. I really wasn’t looking for anyone but when he came in I was like he’s cuteee.

My neptune trine his ascendant

With my north node also making its place there, I think it also added to the fantasy that was our first meeting. He definitely has unrealistic ideas about me though. I don’t see what he sees but he makes me out to be this amazing angel despite it all.

His Venus in my first house

He says I’m his dream girl and he really makes me feel like I’m the hottest person he’s ever seen, sometimes it can be a bit much but I don’t mind. He also makes me feel valuable but that can also have to do with our 2nd house synastry.

My stellium (sun mars Jupiter) in his second

I love giving him things🫣 I make him art, and help him find things to decorate his house.

My Saturn in his first house

I do think due to other aspects we have a few power dynamics, and I think he thinks he’s the more mature one, but I think we just view these things in different ways. this has been my longest relationship

His mars (sag) in my 8th house

Yeah… you probably already know. This placement is categorized as sexual and intense. It is, we argue all the time, but the sex… I’ve never had sex like this he figured out all my secret spots

My Pluto conjunct his mars

Even though he can be pretty intense I feel like I do well with intensity. He probes but I want to be better about being honest.

His mars opposite my Saturn

It’s exactly what it sounds like we can’t have sex half the time because of a personal condition, it also took us a bit of time before we actually did start having sex. It’s hard to have sex at my place but he lives so far. Plus I always have responsibilities (Saturn) that he helps me with. We make a good team though he brings the action and drive to get things done and I bring… the things we have to get done lol.

His Saturn square my moon

I never thought it would manifest this way, but we have entirely different parenting styles and because of this we basically agreed we won’t work in the long run which is a contrast to the I want you forever he was giving me before. But it’s still a pretty reasonable and mature conversation and we agree that’s not something we have to think about for a while but that’s in the air.

I also believe in astrology which he doesn’t at all and tries to belittle me sometimes about it and sometimes it feels like he makes light of all my personal beliefs. He would never say this but he acts like all the things that matter to me are unrealistic and I don’t think he notices.

His Saturn square my venus

This one is actually very interesting this aspect gets characterized as “right person wrong time” it has the ability to keep two people apart through differences in responsibilities and values.

This can mean anything from age difference, infidelity, or

Saturns reputation of being cold and restrained dampens Venus and starts to weigh her down over time

I always thought this placement would be very intense and I see it slowly creeping over us, but for me as Venus I feel as though I can be very … indulgent and he tends to live life with more discipline. He often tries to encourage me to set rules, and standards to live by. We are fundamentally different and it can be quite difficult sometimes.

The timing in this relationship is also quite intriguing, he has a very steady semi fast pace for us dating. We do all the things exactly how we are supposed to and while it’s not particularly fast I think I’m more open to seeing the possibility of where we go where as he is planning for the long term.

That’s all for now 🤍

[thrillered]

"You Know I Mountain Dew It For Ya" | Spencer Agnew x Reader | Part 13

Part 13: Brunch

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Life felt good. The reaction on the podcast was incredibly positive, nothing but kind comments and intense support for your music career. It had been almost two weeks since you released Birds of a Feather, which once again went viral on tiktok, boosting your streams again. But it didn’t stop there, almost all of your music, even your earliest album had reached a minimum of 400k streams. 

Multiple news outlets reached out to you, asking for comments on your fast-tracked success. Pop crave even going so far as to predict you would make the top 100 list before the month's end. On top of your career at Smosh you were now making a solid income from your music. 

You were on cloud nine, but not alone. Spencer sat atop that cloud with you, a supportive arm to lean on. You and Spencer were doing great. You spent a lot of nights together, cuddled up on the couch or dancing in the kitchen, enjoying being in love. If people thought you and Spencer were connected at the hip before… it was worse than ever. It seemed that the only time you weren’t together was in the bathroom. You both stayed professional, no PDA at work but the energy was there. 

As much as Courtney loved you and Spencer they missed you. She arranged a day and now you were having some much needed girl time, enjoying brunch with Amanda, Angela, and Courtney. “This is so nice, I feel like I only see you guys at work.” Angela began, grabbing your hand, “Especially you, mrs. Agnew” 

You pulled your hand out of hers, rolling your eyes and trying to hide the smile blooming across your face. 

“No seriously, we need to know what’s going on.” Amanda insisted. 

You haven't really talked to anyone about what's going on with Spencer. You were enjoying it being just between the two of you, more or less. It felt like young love, it felt innocent and playful. 

“I don’t know what to say.” You shrugged, hiding your blush. 

“Your beet red face says otherwise,” Courtney remarked, taking a sip of her bellini. 

“Come on you gotta give us something, we all see the way you two are.” Angela pleaded, Amanda and Courtney nodding along. “You were always basically attached at the hip but god Spencer looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars.” 

“I guess we’re a thing.” you conceded. 

The three girls shared a look, communicating with each other with just their eyes. 

“What?” You asked, noticing their darting eyes and subtle eyebrow twitches. 

“You guess?” Amanda asked, “What do you mean, you guess?”

“I mean, like, yeah we're seeing each other.” 

“Honey… You ‘see’ a guy you go on a few dates with then ghost. Have you and Spencer even talked about things yet?” Amanda continued. 

“No…” You realized. You and Spencer hadn’t really sat down and had a discussion about what this thing between you was. Thinking about it you realized you haven’t even been on a real date with him. You and Spencer had been in a routine as friends for so long that it seemed the most natural to just build right on top of that foundation. “Uh.. we haven't even gone on a date..” You admitted. 

“Oh brother… Get it together Spence.” Angela grumbled.

You changed the subject as quickly as you could. Not very interested in talking about your labeless situation with Spencer anymore. The rest of brunch was great, you put your thoughts of Spencer to the back of your head, focusing on the various conversations the girls were engaging in. 

When you all finished your meals and drinks it was around 1 pm. You said your goodbyes, parting from the girls with hugs and promises to consult one another about outfits to bring to vidcon. 

On the way to Spencer’s you couldn’t get the looks Courtney, Amanda, and Angela were giving each other out of your head. Were you okay with not being official with Spencer? It was hard to say. You loved the playfulness and almost secrecy of your relationship– if you could call it that. Maybe you and Spencer got very comfortable. Sure you went out together but Spencer never actually asked you to be his girlfriend, let alone asked you on a date. 

You weren’t sure why but this bothered you. Spencer made you incredibly happy so it shouldn’t matter what you labeled it, but it did. Walking up to his door you took a deep breath, trying to shake Amanda’s words. 

You knocked on his door, picking at a hangnail as you waited. Before long Spencer answered, a large smile on his face. “Wow, you look great.” He noted, taking in the pale yellow sundress you were wearing. 

“Thanks Spence.” You giggled, passing him into his apartment. 

He closed the door behind him, leaning his back against it as he looked you up and down, admiring your beauty as you set down your purse. Feeling his eyes on you, you turned around, “Can I help you?” You asked.

“Help me, love me, save me… whatever you’ll give me babe.” He flirted, sauntering up to you. “If this is how you look getting brunch we gotta go to an opera or something.” 

What Spencer was saying was sweet. But you couldn’t help but be reminded that you haven’t gone on a date. You wanted to get dressed up, feel anxious about choosing just the right outfit. 

“Woah, you okay?” Spencer questioned, noticing the sudden shift in your mood. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. I think brunch just isn’t sitting well.” You replied, trying to change the subject. Spencer seemed to accept that answer, pulling you into a short hug before giving you a quick peck. 

—

“Okay you’ve been acting weird ever since you got back from brunch.” Spencer noted, confused. “What happened?” 

You sighed deeply. This was a conversation you had to have, but didn’t really want to. “The girls said something and, I don't know, kinda got in my head.” 

Spencer gestured for you to continue. “They asked about you… and about us.” you began, approaching the topic lightly. “And they helped me realize that we aren’t really anything? If that makes sense, like, ugh okay.” You felt like a teenager, realizing how juvenile this issue was. “You haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend… let alone ask me on a real date.” 

“That’s what this is about?” Spencer asked, furrowing his brow. 

“Yeah I guess…just forget it, it was stupid anyway.” You backtracked. 

“Hey, no.” Spencer interjected, grabbing your hands in his, “This isn’t stupid, it upset you, and you’re right. I didn’t do this the right way.” He suddenly stood, pulling you up with him. “Y/N… may I take you out on a date?” He asked, a cheesy grin on his face. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, “I would love that Spence.” 

“Tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up at 7? Wear something nice.” Spencer asked, confidently. 

“I’ll be ready.” You responded, a wide smile on your face. You couldn’t help but think that Spencer was so attractive for this. You brought up an issue and he immediately fixed it, and looked good doing it. 

You pulled him into a passionate kiss. Hoping to show all the gratitude you had for him through it. Your arms circled his neck, your hand resting against the back of his head. Spencer immediately reciprocated, walking you backwards until you hit the back of the couch, before he hooked his hands under your thighs, setting you on the top of the couch. 

He stood between your legs, pulling you infinitely closer. The kiss was heated, it was hungry, it was full of a passion you only felt for Spencer. You pulled away from the kiss for a moment, catching your breath before taking a second to stare into Spencer's eyes. You placed your hand on the side of his face, rubbing your thumb across his cheek. “You’re the best Spencer, God I love you.” You praised, your eyes sparkling with gratitude. 

“You deserve the best,” Spencer responded, raking his eyes down your body, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs, the soft fabric of your dress beneath his fingers. “I mean look at you! Look at these arms, these are the arms that hold me. And these beautiful eyes I get lost in. And these lips..” He stopped, leaning in for a long and languid kiss. “I get the honor of kissing. Not to mention your incredible mind. And now an international musical sensation? I need to be the best to keep you.” 

You were a bright shade of red, blushing at the praises he was giving you. Smiling at him through your lashes you pulled him back to you, connecting your lips once more. Again, the kiss was heated, full of love and passion. You would sit here forever if you could. His hands wandered your body, feeling you like you would disappear at any moment. 

You hooked your legs around his waist, hoping to be so close to him, you might simply combine. Spencer hooked his hands under your thighs once more, preparing to pick you up and bring you to his bed when you were interrupted by a loud alarm. 

Pulling away from Spencer you grabbed your phone, turning off the blaring noise. “I have to go Spence.” You said begrudgingly. “I have to tend to my wonderful cat and you have a date to plan.” 

Spencer agreed, not without protest though. Finally you made your way to his door, slipping your shoes on and grabbing your bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you.” You said, kissing him softly. 

“I love you too.” Spencer mirrored, closing his door with a sigh when you walked out. 

[hornytome]

last night was something ELSE y’all. i wore my strap under my sweats while we were hanging out downstairs. she wanted to go to the corner store after sex so she was cajoling me to hurry the hell up and get on with it. we joke that she’s like a cat in heat when she’s horny, she just stretches out and presents herself for me. i was running my hands all over her body, and when she gave me that “hurry the hell up” look, i looked her in the eyes and told her to get down on her knees.

we go through phases of using different toys and positions, and this was only the second or third time she’s given me a blow job. she can be soooo shy, but last night she was just so fucking confident and sexy. she was putting on a little show for me, taking my cock in her mouth, spit dripping down my cock. i loved seeing the little peek of her tongue as she showed my cock some attention. when she made eye contact with me, i felt electrified. it was probably the most intense i have ever felt during sex.

she’s so shy usually, but we had a talk recently about pulling her out of her shell, and holy fuck, when she’s feeling herself? she’s so fucking powerful. If she knew how much power she holds over me, i’d be absolutely fucked. i may be the dom top, but fuck it, if she told me to drop to my knees and make her cum over and over again, i would. i would do anything she asks when she looks at me the way she did last night, like she knows just how sexy she is.

we couldn’t wait any longer, so i hauled her ass upstairs. she recently shaved herself completely bare (although i fucking love a hairy pussy, don’t get it twisted), and i could see her pussy drooling all wet and puffy. i love feeling her up and slipping my fingers in between her folds when she’s bare. i LOVE hair, but whenever she shaves it makes me fucking act like a FOOL. we messed around with a couple of different positions, doggy, cowgirl, the usual. on a whim i suggested reverse cowgirl, which we hadn’t tried before.

my GOD folks, the view alone made me nearly cum in my pants. the rhythm was tricky to get down, but when we did? she proclaimed later this morning that it feels even better than missionary. she rode me and moaned like a fucking whore. my baby couldn’t help herself. i’ve been building up my stamina lately and it felt SO fucking good to just be able to fuck into her so fast and hard. we already had sex that morning, but we couldn’t help ourselves. she was nearly screaming, and i had the perfect view of her pretty cunt wrapped around my strap. her ass forms a little heart shape, and i loved seeing it bounce up and down and i fucked her. i was soaking through the damn strap. she moaned that she wanted me to cum in her and i almost combusted. she’d only admit it at gunpoint, but she absolutely has a thing for cum. creampies, on her face, her tits, swallowing, all of it. even hotter? she says the only reason she likes that is because it’s me. god, if only i had a cock. i absolutely have to get that squirting strap on my wishlist.

it feels like we’re only at the very beginning of our sexual dynamic. we’re both learning and growing so much, and it keeps only getting better and better. i think the focus for the next few months will be helping Edith build her confidence and encouraging her to voice her wants and needs, which can be really hard! whenever i ask her a question, she clams up and gets all shy, but recently i’ve managed to get her to admit to what makes her feel sexy and wanted.

she admitted in this small little voice that she loves when i make her feel small and safe. she loves when i praise her, call her a good girl, my princess, my beloved. she likes spanking and the occasional mean name, but i’m getting the sense that she definitely leans towards the “small and little and safe” end of BDSM. she loves when i talk to her in that soft voice, when i take control and tell her what to do, when she trusts me to make the decisions and guide her. she doesn’t have too much experience or vocabulary about BDSM (or sex in general tbh) so its been a little journey getting here. sometimes she doesn’t know how to say or describe what she wants. she didn’t even touch herself until a few years ago—so this whole thing has been a lot for her. i feel very privileged that i can help her figure all of this out. she deserves to feel good.

[jackethockey]

Two Ghosts

Summary: The plot of the story revolves around you, moving to Anaheim after a painful breakup with your high school sweetheart, Trevor Zegras, who is now playing in the NHL. You take a risky offer and go to college in California. You start college and begin to heal, eventually finding a new love interest, Jamie Drysdale. After a date, you attend one of Jamie's hockey practices and discover that Trevor is also playing for the same team. The tension is high as you realize that Jamie is unaware of your history with Trevor. However, when the situation is revealed, Jamie surprises everyone by suggesting a threesome, which you both tentatively agree to explore. The story details the growth of this love triangle, filled with passionate encounters and the challenges of keeping your relationship hidden from the public eye. The narrative culminates in a season-ending victory, where the tension of maintaining your secret is as intense as the game itself, leaving the future of your polyamorous relationship uncertain yet full of potential.

Warnings: smut (very heavy and detailed lol),explicate language, threesome, not proofread enough because I was drunk while I wrote this so I apologize in advance :) 

Word Count: 5,643

“We’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me.”

The sun was setting over the quiet town of Bedford, casting a warm glow over the ice rink where you had spent so many evenings watching Trevor Zegras, your high school sweetheart, glide effortlessly across the frozen surface. Little did you know that your lives would soon take a drastic turn. One fateful night, as you sat in the stands, your hearts racing from a particularly intense game, Trevor broke the news that would change everything: he had been drafted to the NHL by the Anaheim Ducks. A whirlwind of emotions swept through you - pride, excitement, and fear all wrapped into one. you had always talked about the possibility of his career taking him far from home, but now that it was a reality, the prospect of losing him was more than you could bear.

As the weeks passed, you tried to navigate the choppy waters of your new long-distance relationship, but the strain of his demanding schedule and your own college applications weighed heavily on us. Cracks began to form, and before you knew it, you were standing in the cold parking lot, arguing about the future. Words were exchanged, hearts were broken, and suddenly, you were nothing but a memory of love lost. The town that had once felt so alive with your shared passion for hockey now echoed with the silence of your separation.

Months later, as the sting of your breakup began to fade, you received a letter from the University of California, Irvine. An acceptance to their prestigious sports journalism program had arrived, offering you an escape from the painful reminders that lurked around every corner. With a trembling hand, you held the envelope that represented a chance at a new start in a city where the sun always shone - a stark contrast to the cold winters that had held us together for so long. Anaheim, the very place where Trevor's career was about to take flight, was now beckoning you with the promise of your own. With a heavy heart, you made the decision to take the risk and move across the country, not knowing that your paths would cross again in the most unexpected way.

Once in Anaheim, you settled into your new life, your dorm room a stark contrast to the cozy home I'd left behind. your roommate, a bubbly blonde named Maddy, suggested one night that you try Tinder to get back into the dating scene. Skeptical but desperate for companionship, you swiped through profiles, hoping to find someone to ease the ache of loneliness. That's when you found him: Jamie Drysdale, a local with piercing blue eyes and a charming smile that seemed to leap off the screen. you hit it off immediately, your messages a flirty dance of wit and banter. When he suggested a date at a hip downtown sushyouspot, you couldn't resist. The chemistry was palpable as you sat across from each other, sharing laughs and sneaking glances at your phones to send sly messages under the table. The evening ended with a kiss that sent your heart racing, and an invitation back to his place that you eagerly accepted. 

Back at Jamie's apartment, the air was thick with anticipation as you stumbled through the door, your lips never breaking contact. His hand found your pussy, gently caressing your clit through your damp panties as you kissed. your breath hitched, and you pulled away, your eyes wide with excitement. He led you to his bed, and you shed our clothes, revealing you desire for each other. His cock was hard and ready, standing tall and proud as he knelt before you. you watched as he took it in his hand, stroking it gently as you lay back, your legs parted in invitation. He kissed you again, his mouth moving down your neck to your chest, his tongue teasing your nipples before he made his way to your eager pussy. His warm breath sent shivers down your spine as he kissed and licked your sensitive skin. your hips bucked up to meet his mouth, his tongue circling your clit with expert precision. you moaned, your hand finding its way into his hair as you guided him deeper into your folds. His fingers slid inside you, exploring your depths as your body responded with a rush of wetness.

"Oh, Jamie," you gasped as he brought you closer to the brink of orgasm.

He looked up, his eyes filled with lust. "You taste so sweet," he murmured before returning to his task with renewed enthusiasm. your body tensed as the sensation built, your clit pulsing under his skilled touch. With one final flick of his tongue, you came apart, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you cried out his name. The room spun with pleasure, your toes curling into the bedsheets.

As your breathing slowed, he positioned himself over you, his cock poised at your entrance. you reached down, guiding him into you, feeling the delicious stretch as he filled you completely. you moved together, you bodies speaking a language of passion and need. His strokes grew deeper, harder, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as your rhythm grew frantic. You could feel him thickening inside you, his breathing ragged and hot in your ear.

"I'm going to cum," he grunted, his voice strained with effort.

"Me too," you whispered, your nails digging into his back as your own orgasm approached.

With one final, powerful thrust, he came, his hot cum flooding your pussy as you reached your peak. your bodies shuddered in unison, lost in the throes of ecstasy. After a moment, you collapsed onto the bed, your hearts pounding in time with each other. This was just the beginning of a wild, unexpected journey that would forever change the course of your lives.

The next day, basking in the afterglow of your passionate night, Jamie suggested you join him at his hockey practice, his enthusiasm for the sport was contagious. Little did you know, fate had a cruel twist in store for you. As you walked into the bustling rink, you froze. There he was, in all his glory, skating with the same team that had once been the backdrop of your life with Trevor - your ex. your heart sank as you realized the awkwardness of the situation, but Jamie seemed oblivious, his excitement for the game overshadowing any tension that may have lurked beneath the surface. As you watched him skate, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as he interacted with the players, his ease and camaraderie with them a stark reminder of the world I'd left behind. And there, skating towards us with a grin, was Trevor, unaware of the intimate connection you'd just formed. The air grew thick with tension as you locked eyes, and for a brief moment, it felt as if time had rewound to the night of your breakup, the same rink on the stage for a dramatically different scene.

As Trevor approached, his smile faded, and his eyes widened in surprise when he recognized you standing next to Jamie. The realization of the situation dawned on him, and he skated to a halt, his stick clattering to the ice. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and accusation. "This is Jamie's practice," you said, trying to sound casual, though your heart was racing. "Oh, you see," he said, his gaze flicking between us, the tension palpable. "You didn't know you two knew each other," Jamie said, the wheels in his head clearly turning as he tried to piece together the puzzle. "We, uh, we used to date," you admitted, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Trevor's jaw tightened, and he looked away, the hurt from your past now a stark reality in the cold light of day. "Well, this is..." Jamie trailed off, at a loss for words. "Awkward," you supplied, your voice small. Trevor's eyes met your, and for a moment, it was as if you were the only two people in the world. Then, without warning, a mischievous smile spread across Jamie's face. "Why not make it interesting?" he suggested his voice low and filled with a seductive challenge. "What do you mean?" you asked, your curiosity piqued. "Why don't you all go out for drinks tonight?" he said, his gaze flicking between Trevor and you. "It'll be like old times," he added, winking at you. Trevor's eyes narrowed, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. He knew Jamie's reputation for pushing boundaries, and you could feel the unspoken question hanging in the air: was this an invitation to mend fences or something far more scandalous?

Intrigued by the prospect of an unexpected reunion and the hint of something more, you all agreed to Jamie's proposal, the anticipation of the evening ahead making your heart flutter with a mix of excitement and trepidation. That night, as you sat in the dimly lit bar, sipping your drinks, the tension between you and Trevor was undeniable. your eyes met across the table, a silent conversation playing out, filled with the unspoken words of your past love and the unexplored desires of the present. It was Jamie who broke the silence, his voice smooth as velvet as he leaned in closer, a glint in his eye. "You know, I've always been a fan of sharing the things you love," he said, his hand casually brushing against your thigh. Trevor's gaze snapped to Jamie, a hint of understanding dawning in his expression. "What are you saying?" he asked, his voice low and gruff. "Well," Jamie began, a wicked smile playing on his lips, "you were thinking that maybe we could all... make up for lost time." The room seemed to hold its breath as his words sank in, your cheeks growing hot as you processed his suggestion. Trevor's eyes never left your, and you could see the war raging within him: loyalty to his friend or the temptation of a rekindled passion. Before either of us could respond, Jamie leaned in further, whispering, "Why choose when you can all have a little fun?" His hand slid further up your thigh, his thumb brushing against the edge of your panties, and you realized with a start that his idea was not just a fleeting thought, but a genuine proposal. The air grew thick with the scent of possibility, and as you felt the warmth of both their gazes on you, you found yourself entertaining a scenario that would have been unthinkable just hours before. The chemistry between the three of us was undeniable, and as you finished your drinks, the heat in the room seemed to rise, hinting at the explosive passion that could unfold if you dared to embrace Jamie's daring plan.

With your hearts pounding in sync with your steps, you made your way back to Jamie's apartment, the anticipation of what was to come thickening the air between us. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, the tension snapped like a tightly pulled rubber band. Trevor's eyes searched your, a silent question lingering. you nodded, your breath hitching, and Jamie's hand was on the small of your back, guiding you toward the bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the shadows playing across Jamie's bare chest as he stepped closer, his eyes never leaving your. Trevor followed, the muscles in his jaw tight as he struggled with his own internal battle. The room grew warmer, your breaths mingling as you stood at the edge of a precipice, ready to dive into the unknown.

Jamie's hand found the zipper of your dress, tugging it down slowly, revealing your naked body to both of them. your nipples were hard buds, sensitive to the cool air and the heat of their stares. Trevor's eyes swept over you, a mix of hunger and hesitation, and you felt a thrill shoot through you as you saw his cock thicken in his pants. you stepped out of the dress, letting it pool at your feet, and walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge and watching as the two men approached, their desire for you and each other a tangible force.

Jamie was the first to make his move, kneeling before you and sliding your panties off with a gentle tug. His mouth found your pussy, his tongue tracing a path along your slit, making your legs shake. you leaned back, your eyes locked on Trevor as he slowly stripped out of his clothes, revealing his rock-hard cock. The sight of him, standing before you, was almost too much to handle. your hand reached out, wrapping around his length, feeling the heat and power of him in your grip.

As Jamie's tongue danced around your clit, you stroked Trevor's cock, the velvet softness of his skin a stark contrast to the steel beneath. His hand covered your, guiding it, showing you how he liked it. your eyes met, and in that moment, the past was forgotten. you were no longer just two ex-lovers reunited; you were three individuals about to embark on a sexual odyssey that would shatter the boundaries of friendship and love.

Trevor's hand reached for your chest, his thumb grazing your nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure to your core. you gasped, your pussy growing wetter under Jamie's ministrations. The sound of his mouth on you, the feel of Trevor's hand on your breast, and the weight of their gazes upon your body sent you spiraling into a vortex of sensation. And just as you thought you couldn't handle anymore, Trevor leaned in and kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips and claiming you once again. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of whiskey and lust.

The three of us fell onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and desire. Hands roamed, exploring every inch of skin, rekindling old fires and sparking new ones. you straddled Jamie, his cock sliding into you with ease, as Trevor kissed down your back, his hand reaching around to tease your clit. Their bodies moved in harmony, each touch and kiss sending waves of pleasure through you. You leaned back, arching your spine as Trevor's mouth found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

your bodies moved in a slow, erotic dance, each thrust of Jamie's cock sending you closer to the edge. Trevor's hand found its way to your breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples, sending sparks of sensation straight to your clit. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the slick noises of skin against skin.

With a graceful shift, you slid off Jamie and onto Trevor, his cock already hard and waiting for you. His eyes burned into your as you lowered yourself onto him, feeling the familiar yet thrilling sensation of his length filling you up. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as you began to move, your bodies relearning the rhythm that had once been so natural. The sight of Jamie watching us, his cock still erect, only added to the intensity of the moment. The air was thick with lust as you rocked together, the mattress creaking beneath us. you leaned back, your breasts bouncing as you rode Trevor, his eyes never leaving your. The connection between us was just as strong as it had ever been, the years apart seemingly evaporating in the heat of your passion.

Jamie, not one to be left out, moved in closer, his hand sliding between your legs to caress your clit as you rode Trevor. The dual sensations of their touch sent you spiraling, your pussy clenching around Trevor's cock as you grew closer to the brink of release. Trevor's hands roamed your body, his fingers digging into your flesh as he matched your tempo, driving himself deeper inside you. The room was a symphony of gasps and moans, the scent of your arousal mingling with the faint smell of sweat and cologne.

As your climax grew closer, you reached out to Jamie, your hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking him in time with your movements. His eyes rolled back, his hips jerking as he watched you take pleasure from his best friend. The situation was surreal, a mix of the past and present, love and lust intertwined in a way I'd never imagined. Yet, at that moment, it felt so incredibly right, like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

The tension grew, your bodies moving in a frenzied dance of desire. Trevor's grip tightened, his strokes becoming more erratic as he neared his own peak. you could feel his cock pulsing within you, and the knowledge that he was close pushed you over the edge. you came with a scream, your pussy clenching around him as waves of pleasure washed over you. Trevor followed, his hot cum filling you up, mixing with the slickness of your combined arousal.

Jamie watched us, his hand still moving on his shaft, his expression a mix of fascination and arousal. He stepped closer, and without a word, you took his cock into your mouth, eager to taste him as well. His eyes never left your as you sucked him off, feeling the tension build until he too came, his warm cum spurting onto your tongue.

As you lay there, tangled in the sweat-drenched sheets, the silence was filled with a new kind of intimacy. The air was electric with the aftermath of your shared ecstasy, and the realization of what you'd just done sent a shiver down your spine. Trevor's arms wrapped around you, his warmth a comforting embrace, while Jamie's hand rested on your thigh, his fingers tracing lazy circles. The tension between us had shifted, no longer awkward but charged with a newfound respect and curiosity. you all knew that you'd crossed a line, but the question remained: was this a one-time thing or the start of something more? As your breathing slowed and the room grew quiet, you looked into the eyes of both men, seeing the reflection of your own excitement and wonder. The night had brought us together in a way that no words could ever have, and as you drifted off to sleep, your mind raced with thoughts of the adventures you could share, the pleasures you could discover, and the love you could build, unconstrained by the boundaries of convention. your bodies, once divided by anger and hurt, now united in a shared passion, hinted at a future that was both thrilling and terrifying. But as your eyes fluttered closed, you knew that you were ready to face whatever came next with these two men by your side, your heart open to the possibilities that awaited us in the uncharted territory of your newfound love triangle.

In the days that followed, the three of us danced around the new dynamic that had formed. you tried to navigate the uncharted waters of your love triangle with care, not wanting to rock the boat too much. But the pull between us was magnetic, and the chemistry was undeniable. you found ourselves slipping into a rhythm of shared intimate moments, each encounter more explosive than the last. you experimented with new positions and sensations, pushing your boundaries and discovering what truly made each other tick. The bond between Jamie and Trevor grew stronger, their friendship now laced with a newfound respect and understanding, as they shared the pleasure of your body. And in turn, your heart swelled with love for them both, as you saw the camaraderie and care that existed beyond the physical. It was a delicate balance, but as you grew more comfortable, the lines between friendship and love began to blur. you laughed together, you supported each other through the highs and lows of life, and you made love with a passion that seemed to defy all logic. Yet, it was a passion that fueled us, that made us feel alive in a way you had never felt before.

The whispers of doubt and the glares from the outside world couldn't dull the spark that had ignited between us. you knew you had something special, something that not everyone would understand. But you didn't need the world's approval; you had each other, and that was enough. your thirst for adventure grew, and you found yourselves planning more nights of passionate exploration, each one more intense and intimate than the last. your love was a secret garden, blooming in the shadows of a world that didn't quite know what to make of us. But in that garden, you were free to be yourselves, to love without limits, and to cherish the moments that you had together. And as the sun set on another day in Anaheim, you lay tangled in each other's arms, knowing that the night would bring us closer, that your love was a force to be reckoned with, and that together, you could conquer anything.

The days grew shorter and the nights longer as you fell into a routine of stolen glances and secret touches, your desire for each other a constant hum beneath the surface of your everyday lives. Practices at the rink grew tense, the unspoken tension between Trevor and Jamie a thrumming undercurrent that only seemed to heighten the excitement when you were alone together. The line between the ice and the bedroom blurred as you pushed the boundaries of your relationship, each practice a silent challenge to see how far you could take things without giving yourself away. your bodies had become a canvas for your desires, each stroke of the brush - or in this case, each caress and kiss - adding another layer to the masterpiece of passion you were painting together. And as the season approached, the anticipation of your next intimate encounter grew more intense, the promise of it hanging in the air like an electrifying storm just waiting to break. The rink had become not just a place of competition but a stage for your own private games, a place where you could let your love run wild and free, unshackled by the constraints of the world outside. And as the first puck dropped on opening night, you knew that the real game was just beginning.

The first few games of the season passed in a blur of excitement and nerves, your secret weighing heavily on us as you watched each other from the sidelines. The tension grew with every stolen glance, every brush of skin, until one night, the dam burst. After a particularly grueling practice, the three of us found yourselves back in Jamie's apartment, the air thick with desire. you didn't bother with the pretense of conversation, your bodies moving together in a silent symphony of need. Trevor took you from behind, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he thrust deep into your pussy, filling you up with his hard, thick cock. Meanwhile, Jamie's mouth found your clit, his tongue flicking and teasing as you moaned with every stroke. The sensation was overwhelming, your body trembling with the force of your impending orgasm. And just as you were about to peak, you felt the warmth of Jamie's cock against your ass, the pressure building until he too entered you, filling you completely. The feeling of having them both inside you was indescribable, a mix of pleasure and pain that sent you hurtling over the edge. you moved as one, your bodies syncing in a dance of love and lust. Your cries filled the room, echoing off the walls, a testament to the depth of your connection. As you lay in a pile of tangled limbs, your breathing ragged and hearts pounding in unison, you knew that there was no going back. your love had grown into something more, something that could not be contained, and you were ready to face the world together, come what may.

The heat in the room was almost unbearable as you continued to explore each other's bodies with a fervor that seemed to grow with each passing moment. Trevor's cock slammed into you from behind, the force of his thrusts making you moan with each stroke. Your pussy was tight around him, the pleasure of having him inside you mingling with the delicious pressure of Jamie's cock in your ass. The feeling of being so completely filled was like nothing you had ever experienced before, a sensation that was both overwhelming and incredibly satisfying. The head of Jamie's cock found your G-spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body with every movement. You could feel the tension in both of them, their muscles taut with the effort of holding back their climaxes for as long as they could. Trevor's hand reached around to cup your breasts, his thumbs playing with your hardened nipples, sending jolts of electricity straight to your clit. You were lost in the sensation, your body moving of its own accord, eager for more.

Jamie's hand slid down your body, his fingers finding your clit, which was already swollen and sensitive from his earlier attention. He began to rub it in tight, fast circles, and you could feel the beginnings of an orgasm building deep within yourself. Your moans grew louder, your body tensing as the pressure grew and grew. Then, without warning, Trevor reached around and pinched your nipples, sending you spiraling over the edge. The orgasm ripped through you, your pussy clenching around him as you screamed out their names. They didn't stop, though, their movements growing more urgent, their hips slapping against your skin. You could feel them both getting closer, their breathing ragged in your ears. And then, with one final, powerful thrust, Trevor came, his hot cum spilling into you as Jamie's cock swelled inside your ass, his own orgasm following close behind. You all collapsed onto the bed, your bodies drenched in sweat and cum, the aftershocks of your shared pleasure still rippling through you.

Our hearts were racing, our breathing heavy, as you lay there, the reality of what you had just done settling over us like a warm blanket. you had crossed a line, and entered a realm of passion that was both exhilarating and terrifying. But as you felt their warmth surrounding you, their love for you palpable in the sticky mess you had created, you knew that you had found something special, something that was uniquely ours. And as you all lay there, our limbs entwined, the world outside fading away, you couldn't help but wonder what other boundaries you would push together, what other heights our love would reach in the coming months.

The days grew shorter and the nights longer as you fell into a routine of stolen glances and secret touches, your desire for each other a constant hum beneath the surface of our everyday lives. Practices at the rink grew tense, the unspoken tension between Trevor and Jamie a thrumming undercurrent that only seemed to heighten the excitement when you were alone together. Your bodies had become a canvas for your desires, each stroke of the brush—or in this case, each caress and kiss—adding another layer to the masterpiece of passion you were painting together. You were a tight-knit trio, your love a force that could not be contained by the boundaries of societal norms. And as the season progressed, you grew bolder in your pursuit of pleasure, pushing the limits of your friendship and love to new heights. The rink had become not just a place of competition, but a sanctuary where you could be free from the judgmental eyes of the outside world, a place where your love could truly come alive. And as the final buzzer of the season rang out, signaling the end of the games and the beginning of your new reality, you knew that your journey was far from over. The real test would be navigating the choppy waters of a polyamorous relationship under the scrutiny of the public eye, but you were ready to face the storm, united in your love and commitment to each other. With our hearts open and our bodies yearning for more, you stepped into the future, ready to conquer the challenges that awaited us as you embraced your love without limits.

The whispers and glances grew more frequent as the season progressed, your love triangle becoming the talk of the town. You had to be careful, hiding your true relationship behind the guise of friendship, but the electricity between you was palpable. After a particularly intense game, you found yourself back in the locker room, the adrenaline of the victory still pumping through your veins. Your eyes met, and the desire was unmistakable. Trevor leaned against the cold metal lockers, his sweat-soaked jersey clinging to his muscular chest, and beckoned you closer with a crooked smile. Your heart raced as you approached, your eyes dropping to the bulge in his pants that told you he was just as turned on as you were. Without a word, you dropped to your knees, your hands reaching out to unbuckle his belt. The sound of the zipper was like a gunshot in the tense silence, echoing through the locker room. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, and you took it in your mouth, feeling it pulse against your tongue. Meanwhile, Jamie stepped closer, his own cock in hand, stroking it gently as he watched the scene unfold. He leaned in, whispering filthy words in Trevor's ear, and suddenly, the three of you were lost in a frenzy of passion. Trevor's hands found Jamie's ass, pulling him closer until their cocks were side by side in your mouth. The taste of their precum was intoxicating, and you knew that this was just the beginning of your love story, one that would be written in the sweat and passion of the very rink that had brought you together.

The months flew by, and your secret love affair grew stronger with each passing day. You managed to keep your relationship hidden from the prying eyes of the media, but the tension was always there, simmering just beneath the surface. Your nights were filled with passionate encounters, your bodies moving in a symphony of desire and need. The lines between friendship and love had blurred so completely that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. You had become a well-oiled machine, each of you knowing exactly what the other needed, what made them moan and arch their backs in pleasure. Your bond was unbreakable, a force of nature that no one could deny.

And so, as the season drew to a close and the playoffs approached, you knew that your time together would become even more precious. The pressure mounted, not just from the games but from the fear of our secret being exposed. Yet, you remained steadfast, supporting each other through the grueling schedule and the ever-present whispers that seemed to follow us wherever you went. In the quiet moments between the roar of the crowds and the clanging of the locker room, you found solace in your love, your bodies tangled together in a desperate bid for connection. You were three souls bound by a love that was as fierce as it was forbidden, and you were determined to make it work, no matter the cost.

The final game of the season was a nail-biter, the tension in the arena so thick you could cut it with a knife. As the clock ticked down, and the Ducks emerged victorious, you couldn't help but exchange knowing glances. The celebrations were bittersweet, a reminder of the world you had to keep hidden. But as you made your way back to the locker room, the weight of your victory washed over you, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourselves to bask in the glow of your triumph. It was there, amidst the stink of sweat and the sound of clanking gear, that you found yourselves once again, your bodies craving the release that only you could provide each other. Trevor's cock was rock-hard, straining against his jock, and Jamie's eyes were dark with desire as they met yours. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would always have this - a love that transcended the boundaries of the rink and the expectations of the world outside.

[linnitheo]

Racing hearts

Max Verstappen x Y/N Fanfiction

Y/N POV

The roar of the engines was deafening as the cars flew past, the vibration of the circuit reaching the soles of my shoes, even though I was standing far from the track itself. The stands were packed, fans cheering as their favorite drivers raced by, but my eyes were fixed on just one car—Number 1, Max Verstappen.

It still felt surreal. I wasn’t just another fan admiring him from a distance anymore. A few months ago, I could have never imagined my life would change so much, and in such a whirlwind fashion. Now here I was, standing in the paddock as his girlfriend.

How did this even happen?

Flashback, six months earlier:

It had all started when I went to a Formula 1 race in Monaco. I was attending with my best friend, a journalist covering the event. Being around the paddock wasn’t new to her, but it was a whole new world for me. The exclusive vibe, the glamour, the loud roar of engines—it was intoxicating. Then, during the practice session, Max Verstappen had come over to where we were standing, exchanged a few polite words with my friend, and offered a smile that had taken my breath away.

Later that evening, at a post-race event, I found myself standing near the bar, awkwardly nursing a drink. Max had approached, and for a moment, I thought he was mistaking me for someone else.

“You were at the paddock earlier,” he said, his blue eyes piercing and confident. “You’re friends with that journalist?”

“Yeah, she covers the races,” I had replied, trying not to sound too starstruck.

We exchanged small talk, which quickly turned into longer conversations. Before I knew it, we were talking about everything from travel to racing, to how strange it was for someone like me, who didn’t know much about motorsport, to be so enthralled by it all.

By the end of that evening, he’d asked for my number.

Present Day, Y/N POV

The last few months had been a whirlwind of jet-setting between races, trying to balance my life with his. It wasn’t easy dating one of the most famous drivers on the grid. There were media obligations, travel schedules, and the constant fear of him getting hurt on track. But when Max was with me, none of that mattered.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned to see Max walking toward me, wearing his Red Bull Racing uniform. His hair was tousled from his helmet, but his face lit up with a wide smile. Despite the race weekend intensity, Max always made time for me, something I loved about him.

“You nervous for today?” I teased, knowing full well that Max didn’t get nervous anymore.

He laughed, “Me? Nah. But you? Maybe.”

“I’m fine,” I smirked. “But you better win.”

He gave me a quick, playful kiss on the lips, before stepping back, looking down at me with that intense gaze of his. "I always do better when you’re watching."

Max POV

The lights went out, and I immediately jumped into the action, the sound of engines screaming around me. There’s always that moment, right after the start, where you can feel the tension between every driver. It’s electric, like we’re all holding our breath, waiting for someone to make the first move.

I didn’t hesitate. From third on the grid, I launched the car forward, squeezing between the Ferrari and the Mercedes. I knew Charles and Lewis would be tough to overtake, but I had something to prove today.

And not just to the fans or the team, but to Y/N. Ever since she entered my life, she gave me this strange sense of calm, like no matter what happened on track, I’d be okay once I was with her. But today, I wanted to show her what I could really do.

Lap after lap, I kept pushing harder, chasing down the front-runners. The radio chatter was constant, my engineer reminding me of tire wear, strategy, and the gaps behind me. But all I could think about was Y/N’s face when I crossed the finish line first.

Coming out of the final corner, I saw the checkered flag waving, and with a final burst of speed, I crossed the line.

P1.

The roar from the crowd was deafening, but all I could think about was getting out of the car and finding her.

Y/N POV

Watching Max cross the finish line first sent a wave of excitement through me. The crowd around me erupted in cheers, but I couldn’t hear anything except the sound of my own heartbeat. I ran toward the paddock, past security, and into the arms of Max as soon as he stepped out of the car.

He pulled me in tight, sweat and all, and kissed me with a passion that made the rest of the world disappear. I didn’t care about the cameras flashing around us, or the team celebrating behind us.

“You did it!” I exclaimed breathlessly.

“We did it,” he replied, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. “You keep me grounded. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

For a moment, everything was perfect.

Max POV

But things rarely stay perfect for long in my world.

Later that night, we were driving back to the hotel when I noticed a car following us. It had been trailing us since we left the circuit, weaving through the streets of the city like it was trying to keep pace.

“Max… is that car—”

“I see it,” I cut her off, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

I could feel the tension rising. My life had always come with a certain level of risk. Racing at over 300 kilometers per hour on a track is one thing, but this… this was different.

Y/N’s eyes were wide with concern, but she trusted me. "Stay calm," I said, my voice low, trying to reassure her.

Suddenly, the car behind us sped up, getting uncomfortably close. I knew it wasn’t a fan or paparazzi; something felt off. I swerved into a side street, but they followed, their intentions becoming clearer.

“Max…” Y/N’s voice cracked with fear.

Without hesitating, I floored the gas, weaving through the narrow streets, the city lights flashing by in a blur. My heart pounded, but my instincts kicked in, just like they did on the track. I had to get us out of this.

The car behind us tried to keep up, but I knew these streets better. I took a sharp turn, pulling us into an alleyway and killed the engine. I motioned for Y/N to stay quiet as we watched the car speed past, missing us entirely.

My chest was heaving, the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Slowly, I turned to Y/N, who was still gripping the seat.

“You okay?”

She nodded, but I could see the fear in her eyes. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. But I knew one thing for sure—I would do anything to keep her safe.

Y/N POV

The next few days were tense. Max and his team tightened security around us, but it was hard to shake the feeling that we were being watched. Something had changed. Max had enemies on the track, sure, but this was personal.

Despite the fear, we stayed together, closer than ever. We had dinner in a quiet restaurant one night, hidden from the public eye. Max kept his hand on mine the entire time, his touch a reminder that no matter what was happening outside, we were stronger together.

“I’m not letting anything happen to you,” he said quietly over the candlelight.

“I’m not scared,” I lied. I was terrified, but I couldn’t let him see it.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft but steady.

I blinked, taken aback. He’d never said that before. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. But I knew, deep down, I felt the same way.

“I love you too, Max.”

In that moment, I realized something. Life with Max Verstappen would never be easy. There would always be danger, always be risks. But I was ready for it—because I loved him.

Max POV

As I held her hand, the world outside the restaurant felt far away. I knew this wouldn’t be the last time we’d face danger. My life was fast, chaotic, and unpredictable, but Y/N was the one constant that made it all worth it.

“I’m going to win the championship for you,” I said, squeezing her hand.

She smiled, but it wasn’t just her smile that gave me strength. It was the look in her eyes that told me she believed in me, in us.

Racing had always been my life, but now… she was my reason to race.

And nothing, no danger, no enemy, was going to take that away from me.

End

[lildoodlenoodle]

Why I think Spider noir is on the younger side(18-20) in the new spiderverse movie per my previous post:

Let’s break it down by Context, Timeline, Mood, and ATSV

Context:

Spider noir has two comic runs that happen before COMICS spiderverse. With that said, there were like inter dimensional energy vampires and that’s obviously not the direction the spiderverse movies went with. So we’re going to largely disregard them for this. To expand, there was a big time jump between that last noir comic and the spiderverse ones. Peter would be closer to mid/late 20s at the start of the comics spiderverse and therefore ITSV if we were to integrate and replace the timelines, BUT I always hated the way they did that time jump in the comics and what it did to Peter’s character.

It felt like they were trying to tie him into 616 Peter wayyyy too much by making his love interest MJ(who we rlly haven’t seen and what we have seen hasn’t had good chemistry), have a good relationship with May(they rlly brushed him shooting someone in front of her and calling him an animal under the rug Huh), and going to college(I get it I do, but unlike most universes I don’t think this Peter could ever stop spiderman enough). There wasn't really any mention of Felicia, Urich, or Robby and their past. They also changed his webbing, his look, and his spider senses.

I felt like that was completely getting rid of all of Peter's characterization and he just becomes the spider with a gun from the 1930s. But the point is they clearly went in a very different artistic and narrative direction after the time jump to a point where it doesn’t feel like the same character.

Refitting the timeline:

So, scrapping the comics spiderverse timeline, I don’t really see a reason for a disjointed time jump. And after those first two comic runs it can be argued, for this Peter, that ITSV happens much sooner for him after that second run, possibly even after the first comic. Then ATSV would happen after that second run. There is an 8mo. time jump between the two runs so it is definitely feasible.

But let’s talk about mood between the runs.

We all know at least somewhat this Peter's origin, and if you don’t, to sum it up: organized crime, monsters, socialism, cannibalism.

The first run ends, Peter beats the goblin without killing him and he’s feeling pretty good about himself/confident. But he’s still got a lot of well deserved angst and self hatred. His uncle is dead, his new mentor/father figure is dead, his relationship with May is on the rocks to say the least, and there’s the whole Felicia thing. He’s still a high schooler and in that teen range, but a big ass lanky teenager who's only solid looking because of the gear he wears. I’d place him around 16-18, a case could be made for 15 but I’m going to politely disagree. ITSV could very easily be fairly soon after these events.

It’s 8 months after the first run. He becomes cocky and overconfident this whole next issue, possibly because of an interdimensionally inflated ego? Point is he feels on top of his game. Also worth mentioning, he’s ignoring MJ this whole issue to the point the audience knows basically nothing about her while he is having a very intense relationship with Felicia(which we already know how I feel about that whole mess) and who MJ is very blatantly and very badly a foil to.(I love MJ she is just not well written here).

The second run ends, his best friend/possible love interest(I said what I said), Robbie, is dead and unavenged.(I can talk a lot more about Robbie and what effect he had and will have on Peter going forward, also the disservice of his ‘death’) Felicia is disfigured and blames Peter. Peter not only blames himself for all this but the comic ends with him saying he feels powerless and a constant sense of impending doom. He really did not get a single win during this comic, man got the shit beaten out of him too. The age at the end of this comic is 17-19. After the last comic dude was messed up but still had hope, after this one we don’t see the fall out, but I can assure it was BAD. That whole ‘you don’t have to kill the bad guy thing’ is probably out the fucking window. I’m more hesitant to think ITSV happened after this run because of that. He isn’t just depressed or self loathing anymore, he isn’t just playing fast and loose with his life to get results. He does not care, he has no hope, and he doesn’t see a good future.

Pre - ATSV predictions with mild spoilers:

With the year and a couple of months time jump for ATSV it’s very plausible that the events of that last run plus possible spider task force shenanigans could happen before the movie. For more context in the comics spider noir was a recurring spider in the ‘elite strike force’. Personally, if he was invited, I could very much see him accepting, especially with his current mental state, and being very aggressive about it. Which, theoretically, could cause him to get kicked off or make a rash decision to leave bc fuck those guys. But the point is at the end of that last comic this man really doesn’t have a single win, he is in a prime state to be manipulated in.

Edit: my dumbass forgot literally the most important detail. The year 1933 is when ITSV noir comes from which matches this timeline with the comics as well.

To sum everything up, the reason why I think spider noirs age is in the 18/20 range is because it fits the above timeline, which I believe to be the most probable timeline of events that are canon by the movies while also staying consistent with at least some of the original comics. It should be further noted there is no evidence of his age throughout the ITSV movie, besides him being played by Nicholas Cage and being tall. In fact, I’d argue due to his excessive use of slang it would naturally place him in a younger category as well as the classic melodramaticness that can come with being a coping teenager. The most important thing that makes his age and at what point in his storyline he’s in up to interpretation is the fact that we see his face once and it’s heavily shadowed. If we saw his face more I’d feel better about giving him a more solid age, but till then context clues for the win. But anyways, this was long and I still have more I could get into/say and I will eventually. Feel free to ask any questions or even tell me why you disagree!

[motions1ckness]

“His Assistant”

Summary: Roman accidentally sends a explicit message to Logan thinking it’s you, his assistant. (based off the 03x08 episode!)

Content: f!reader, intimacy, Logan Roy, fear of intimacy (ironic i know), humiliation, manipulation, implied age gap, mention of sexual harassment

Sure, a relationship with your boss isn’t your brightest idea, but you didn't regret it. Keeping your relationship with Roman a secret gave you a rush you couldn’t experience just once. Being his assistant isn’t as grueling as it seemed. Roman didn’t have a very strenuous job.

While following Roman to the conference room, he turned back “Actually, y/n, can you follow me real quick. I think my schedule is off,” he lied. We had to come up with fake scenarios often. Just in case anyone overheard.

You met his eyes and nodded. “Y-yea, whatever you say, boss.” You followed Roman to an empty room, which seemed secluded enough.

You closed the door behind you. Roman wasted no time attacking your neck with sloppy kisses, “Take off your shirt,” he breathed into your neck.

“What?” You slightly pulled away, just enough to meet his eyes. “Rome, we’re already late to this meeting. Your father-” he moved away with an agitated groan. You didn’t want the moment to end either, but you also didn’t want to be yelled at by Logan Roy.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever, yeah,” Roman started toward the door, signaling you to move out of the way. “If I convince them to trust Mattson, I get to fuck the shit out of you later,” he says, letting you walk outside first. You let out a small laugh rolling your eyes, knowing that day won’t come. Roman hasn't explicitly told you about his intimacy issues, but you two of been sneaking around for months, and the most you guys have done is dry-humping.

During the meeting that included 8 of you, Roman somehow convinced Logan to trust Mattson. He knocked on the table to show his excitement off to you, followed by a grin. You smiled back before standing up to get coffee.

Kerry started filtering other executives into the meeting after Logan gave her the clear. Roman's confidence had been elated since Logan decided to notice him. You were happy for him but feared when Logan chose to kick him aside again.

At the coffee cart, you sent Roman a flirty congratulations text, afraid a verbal message would cause someone to overhear. You put your phone in your pocket to pour yourself a cup. You felt Roman glance at you and then put his phone down.

Supposing nothing of it, you returned next to him, “Get a good look?” He whispered to you. The issue was you had no idea what he was talking about, and it showed on your face. Roman noticed his dad checking his phone soon after. He looked at his most recent messages and saw the text sent to his dad, not you.

He met Logan's eyes, which were staring at him intensely. “What happened?” you asked, feeling left in the dark. Roman didn’t respond and sank into his chair, feeling his whole world crumble around him. Logan told everyone he needed five while Shiv rushed after him. Roman remained silent, looking guilty as ever.

Not long after, Logan shouted for Roman down the hall, while Shiv pulled you to that exact secluded location from earlier. You were unaware of what occurred until Shiv tells you Roman sent a dick pic to Logan, mistaking it for you.

Your face turns flushed when she asks if you welcomed the photos or had any prior relationship. You knew admitting to hooking up with your boss could get you terminated or turn you into a cautionary tale, “No, uh, Roman and I’s relationship is strictly professional. He has some quirks, but we all do,” you tried to sell your lie with a half-assed smile. You understood Shiv was attempting to manipulate you and abuse your vulnerability.

The meeting adjourned, and Logan called you into the room with Roman for questioning. In all honesty, no one cared if you two were hooking up. Kerry and Logan were. It was more about the secrecy, and Roman sending a dick pic to his dad. You and Roman refuse to sit next to each other, causing you guys to sit at the opposite end of the desk, Logan at the head across from you two. You feared losing your job, while Roman feared losing his dad’s attention. The whole discussion was a shitshow; Roman defended himself with, “Why have an assistant I can’t fuck?”

At the end of it, before Logan told us to "Fuck off," you had to sign a release stating to report Roman if he continued anymore unsolicited messages. Before going your individual ways outside the Waystar building, Roman turned to you and kissed your head, “I knew I could make them sign off on GoJo,” he said with a smile. Discrediting the 20-minute lecture he just endured. Or the fact you two were supposed to be a secret. Both of your drivers arrived. Before going inside, Roman shouted, “Guess you have to see me tonight then,” with a dopey smile. You smiled back, rolling your eyes at his comment. You both went into your respective cars, knowing later that night, you two weren’t going to have sex.

[coalswriting]

to keep her warm - jackie taylor

in which y/n saves jackie from death. (approx 2.3k words)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you and jackie have been dating for years. you met her before joining yellowjackets because she sat in front of you in english. you couldn’t help but admire her beauty, watching how she could make slacking off look graceful.

you decided, one day, on a whim to try out for the soccer team. you were sick of hearing your parents’ petty arguments every time you came home, and the other clubs just didn’t seem interesting enough for you to join. that day was the first time you properly talked to jackie.

she was so inviting and sweet, even offering to give you pointers to improve your skill. eventually, you were informed that you were given a spot on the team by coach martinez (who definitely was influenced; you really weren’t that good at soccer). you remember jackie’s vivacious smile as she ran up to you, embraced you and welcomed you to the team. now that you think about it, she was waaaay too excited about you being there.

you often stayed behind with her after practice to talk ‘strategy’. in reality, you both would talk about everything and anything possible while rolling and swinging around on coach’s spinny-chairs. she was so funny, and god, so sweet. it didn’t take long for you to start dating, as the moment she hinted interest towards you, you began to reciprocate at an intense rate.

jackie eventually told shauna about the relationship. she was instantly supportive, and you became a trio. you hung out often after school, and shauna let you both have time to yourselves too.

oftentimes, you and jackie had slumber parties over at her house. she would paint your nails, and you would try different makeup looks on her. the night would always end with the two of you cuddling for hours, looking into each other’s eyes lovingly.

the day your team won the match to determine your spot in nationals, you picked jackie up, twirling her around. the two of you kissed in front of the girls, eliciting whistles and cheers.

“called it!”, tai had laughed to van, fist bumping her, natalie begrudgingly handing her twenty dollars.  

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

when the plane crashed, the first thing you did is check on jackie. you felt extremely worried about her, noticing how she instantly began to close in. you watched her claw at any form of leadership with an indescribable desperation.  

“guys, we need to get moving. we’re going to run out of water,” tai suggested to the team one night.

“no, tai! the rescue team will come any day now,” jackie replied, more like she was reassuring herself. you watched as the cogs turned in the girls’ heads before a huge argument broke out.

“what team?! we’ve been here for days! nobody’s coming jackie, get it in your head”, someone yelled.

you tried hard to keep the peace, physically putting yourself between the girls and jackie, “c’mon guys. calm down…”

jackie instantly softened at the sight of you, smiling gently before quickly returning back to being straight faced. you mouthed a ‘we’ll talk later’ at her before continuing, “but taissa is right. we need water, and i don’t think we’ll survive for long at this rate…” you tapped your cheek, thinking of a result that would please everyone before your eyes brightened, “we can leave a message!”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

a few months had passed, and you were still worried about jackie. you loved her so, so much, and though she returned your affections happily, you felt as though the light within her had died out. she wasn’t the same girl you would spend hours after practice with; the girl whose eyes you’d lovingly admire in the late hours of the morning.

jackie barely helped around and ate. it’s like she was depressed, spiralling, as she was barely able to get out of bed most days or even take care of herself. the other girls were beginning to get irritated at jackie’s lack of helping out, and despite you and shauna’s efforts, this distaste was beginning to manifest further. you knew that the girls would snap any day – the stress pushed down on you like a heavy weight.

“c’mon, jackie…” you murmured, brushing her overgrown bangs away before wiping her forehead with a lukewarm damp rag, “you should try to help out around the cabin.”

she blinked at you, almost absent from the conversation. you placed a warm hand on her cheek, feeling a spark in your chest as she leaned into your touch. “i know but… i can’t,” is all she said, and you understood – that she probably had lost her hope. you wrapped your arms around her, giving her a tight squeeze. it took her a brief moment to reciprocate before she melted into you, sniffling a little.

“i know, jackie. i know. i love you and i’m here for you,” is all you whispered. that was the first time you told her that you loved her, and for a few days, the spark of hope returned in her eyes.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you sat up, quickly, spluttering. you looked to your left, then your right, trying to understand your surroundings. your mind felt hazy, and you seemed to be alone. you could taste a strange taste in your mouth. maybe the dinner you had was off. you shivered, suddenly, rubbing your arms to warm yourself up. looking up, you noticed a lonesome full moon staring back at you.  

“shit…”, you mumbled, “what time is it?”

suddenly, snowflakes began to fall around you. it was the first snowfall since your team had stranded in the vast, lifeless wilderness.

hopping up, you decided you needed to find your way back to the cabin, and fast, otherwise you would die from the cold.

it was silent when you returned to the cabin – way too silent. you were walking for around half an hour until you had found something that looked even slightly familiar, thus returning home. you noticed a snow-covered figure slouched over by the firepit and stumbled over, still in a slightly drugged haze. “hey,” you called, growing more and more concerned at their lack of an answer. bending down to their level, you shook them to try inducing a response. panic began to grow in your chest as some snow fell off their head.

then, your worst nightmare came true.

jackie.

you visibly jumped from the terror that consumed you, feeling yourself suddenly get smaller in the world.

no.

she was motionless and so, so cold to the touch. “jackie?! jackie!” you yelled, shaking her violently, but still, she didn’t move. you pulled her up over your shoulder, suddenly full of energy. running towards the cabin, you stopped in your tracks. oh no. it didn’t take you long to process that the door was halfway snowed in, and you didn’t have enough time to do anything about it.

your stomach filled with a dread you had never felt before. it felt like life was collapsing around you; like you were a single person surrounded by nothing. everything around you fell still, as if time had frozen. you had to do something, and fast. you turned on your heel, running to the shed without thinking.

tearing the door open with such vigour that you’re surprised it didn’t break off the hinges, you sat your girlfriend up against a dry wall. you stripped your jacket off your already under-dressed body, draping it over jackie’s shoulders. despite how cold it was, you focused on keeping her warm, whispering sweet nothings to her as you desperately held her tightly. tears welled up in your eyes as reality began to sit on your shoulders like a heavy gravitational force, taunting you within this hopeless world. your girlfriend was extremely pale. you breathed what hot breath you could onto your hands and rubbed her arms to generate some sort of warmth.

your hands and arms ached from how hard you were massaging the blonde. it must’ve been a few hours, at that point, and you felt your heart warm, noticing a bit of rosiness in her cheeks. she was still breathing; her breaths were shallow but steady.

“jackie, i… hang in there for me, please,” you begged to nobody in particular. your girlfriend couldn’t hear you, but maybe the omnipotent force that resided within the wilderness could. it wasn’t your girlfriend’s turn to go, and you knew that you would do whatever it takes to make sure that she would wake up by your side again and again.

you zoned out for what felt like a minute, coming back to your senses when you felt the sunlight peek through the cracks in the thin walls. squinting, you opened the door, and as if clouds had parted, it felt like the world was just a little bit warmer. something snapped in your head, and coming back to your senses, you ran towards the cabin in nothing but your short, sleeveless dress. adrenaline coursed through your veins as you smashed your knuckles against the feeble door, knocking violently. you began to claw at the snow that blocked your entry in, grabbing fistfuls in your bony hands and tossing them haphazardly behind you. tai opened the door with a yawn, slightly startled in her dreariness.

“(y/n), we thought you were home?”, she squinted her eyebrows, not processing your panic. suddenly, her body fell tense, her eyes widening in realisation, “wait, jackie!”

you sprinted past her, shoving her with enough energy to knock her into the doorframe, leaving her winded. “help me! she’s fucking dying out there!”, you screeched, much like a hurt animal.

everyone woke up, suddenly alert, and after what felt like a lifetime, but realistically was only a few seconds, everything clicked as internal alarm bells went off within their heads.

jackie.

you were shaking violently, unsure if it was due to the cold or the pure, unfiltered anger. a few girls scattered and sprinted in various directions to prepare what would be needed for a hot bath whereas the rest scrabbled outside to look for their friend. you felt yourself grow lightheaded suddenly; the exhaustion must’ve been hitting you, or perhaps it was your processing of the situation.

after a few minutes, you and lottie managed to undress a stiff jackie and get her in the bathtub as the other girls waited anxiously downstairs. lottie watched your scattered frame wordlessly, being careful not to say anything to set you off. you paced back and forth, stopping every few seconds to examine your girlfriend. finally, the thin, tense cord in your brain snapped as you marched and climbed down the ladder.

everyone sat in the common area, deep shame shadowing over their faces. something about how preventable this entire situation was made you more furious than ever before, and you did something extremely uncharacteristic of you - you unleashed absolute hell on them.

“she could’ve fucking died!”, you shrieked, watching everyone tremble as if your voice had physically shoved them, “you let her stay out there?! what happened to working as a team?”

the room was so silent that you could hear the gentle breeze outside. you continued your verbal rampage, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I don’t give a shit who’s in the wrong, that was so unbelievably fucked up of all of you!”

your small, starved body viciously shook as you sobbed, hiccupping, and choking on the lump in your throat. jackie could’ve died.

van and shauna took a step towards you, reaching their hands up as though they wanted to comfort you with a hug. you, in turn, took a large step back, increasing the distance between you and the girls. “stay the fuck away from me!! you almost let her die! I swear to fuck, stay away from me!”

you glared at everybody, bloodshot eyes prominent, before climbing back up the shaky ladder. jackie began to stir as you emerged.

“(y/n)..?”, she murmured, voice shaky and quiet.

your eyes widened, partially from joy, partially from shock, as you sprinted to her side. big fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you hugged her, not caring that the now overflowing water was beginning to seep into your dress.

“hush, baby, it’s okay… i love you.”

after a few minutes of reassuring yourself more than your girlfriend, you calmed down enough to give lottie a nod. she smiled sweetly before going down the ladder, deciding to leave you two alone. she wanted to help make the peace and let the other girls know that you would all have a big discussion about what happened later.

jackie beamed at you, exhaustion prominent on her face, and with all her strength, pulled you into the bath with her. you yelped as you felt the water soak you.

“jackie!! you little shit!”

her entire body tremored with a laughter that bordered on a joyful hysteria. she put her arms around your shoulders, pulling your foreheads together, touching cold nose to cold nose. you began to sob again, realising just how many memories of your girlfriend you could’ve lost had she died. jackie wiped a tear from your cheek with her thumb, looking you in the eyes before placing her cracked lips onto yours. you became lost in her touch, feeling a newfound sense of hope – of home.

“i love you so much, (y/n). thank you for being in my life,” she whispered after the kiss had ended. her lips were parted slightly, and she looked a little livelier than she had in the past few months.

“i love you too, baby – i’ll never leave you alone again”, you reassured, holding her close, feeling her heartbeat against her ribcage.

 she was alive, that’s all that mattered to you now, and that’s all that would matter to you forever.

[something-tofightfor]

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #2: Frankie Morales - Kiss in the Hammock

Number two for this event goes to @the-blind-assassin-12 for our favorite helicopter pilot. This follows along with the Life is Good storyline and takes place after Red, White and True.

Word count: 1,244

Rating: M? IDK. This one is tame but there's some suggestion.

“Damn.” 

You woke to the sound of his voice, sucking in a breath as your entire body jerked. The hammock beneath you swung from side to side, its motion much more fluid than it had been previously. Oh, shit.

Rocking back and forth while you tried to catch yourself using both hands, you heard the sound of quiet laughter - and then you stilled, head turning to the side. “Frankie? I’m sorry, I fell asleep.” 

“You did.” Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you stared up at him. He had the hat on his head tipped backwards, the ends of his hair curling wildly around his ears like they always did after he’d run his hands through it. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“It’s fine.” Stretching, you closed your eyes and yawned, humming as you curled your toes inward. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon, it -” Frankie laughed again, interrupting your explanation.

“I’m back at the regular time.” What? How long was I sleeping? “We’ve got to think about getting ready to head out soon. Dinner at Ironhead’s is in an hour and a half.” 

You attempted to sit up, beginning to swing your legs toward where he stood. But when Frankie murmured your name, shaking his head slowly, you stopped. “What? You just said I need to get out of here and go inside to change.”

“Wait a minute.” He let go of the edge of the hammock, bending down to untie his shoes. “We’ve got a couple, at least.” 

You figured out what he was doing moments later when Frankie stood again, pulling his hat off and letting it fall to the ground next to his shoes and your phone, which was face down in the neatly trimmed grass. “Franke, how much weight can these things …” Trailing off when he sat at the edge and then swung his feet up, you closed your eyes as you scooted over, making space. “...hold?” 

“Plenty. I bought the heavy duty frame and the most durable material so that it wouldn’t blow away if I couldn’t get to it in time during a storm. We’re fine.” He pressed himself against your side and then turned his head to look at you. “Hi.” 

The way he stared at you still took you by surprise sometimes. 

After the initial week together in Virginia and the first couple visits between you in your hometowns, you’d known things were real. When he’d admitted that he loved you on the boat only a few months prior, everything had slammed firmly into place, your feelings for him just as overwhelming and consuming as you’d ever hoped falling in love with someone would be. 

But no matter how much you believed the words he said or how strongly you felt the same in return, it would never compare to the intensity in his eyes when they met yours. Frankie always looked at you with interest, but when he was really emotional, there was a quiet desperation there, too - the fear of losing you or ruining things hidden just behind the desire. 

“Hey, ‘Fish.” You only used the nickname sparingly, preferring to call him by his full name if you didn’t use Frankie, but when he grinned at the sound, the corners of his eyes crinkling and the dimple in his bearded cheek appearing, you knew it had been the right call that day. “How were your flights?”

“Good. Only had three today. Two short tours and a longer one. Lots of people visiting for Thanksgiving so the longer tour was parents with a kid. He loved it up there. Reminded me of Elijah.” Of course it does. The weight of the two of you made the hammock rock gently, the side to side motion slower than it had been at your sudden, surprised movement. It felt good to lay there with him, and when Frankie finally closed his eyes and took a long breath, settling one palm against his stomach, you spoke again. 

“I like this. With you.” He hummed out an agreement, shifting even closer and pressing a kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering there. It was the first time you’d been in the hammock together, though you’d both used it separately multiple times in the days you’d spent in Florida. Maybe I should get one of these for home. “I’m glad you had a good day.” 

“It’s even better now.” He spoke while moving again, the man rolling onto one hip and elbow and then hooking a leg over both of yours, getting as close as possible. “I like coming home to you.” You were certain that he heard the sharp intake of breath and saw the widening of your eyes, but Frankie gave you no time to reply, his arm sliding under your neck and shoulders as he lowered his head. “A hell of a lot.” 

You liked him coming home to you, too, but didn’t get a chance to say so before he kissed you, the man’s lips already parted by the time they met yours. Raising the arm that wasn’t trapped beneath his body, you ran your fingers through Frankie’s hair, lifting your hips a few inches to reposition yourself.

That changed the way his body rested against you, but it also changed the angle of the kiss just enough for you to suck his lower lip between both of yours, increasing the pressure enough to elicit a quiet groan from him. 

“Stop that.” He mumbled the words, but you could feel the smile on his lips while he spoke. “We don’t have time.” Frankie didn’t pull away though, the man kissing you again, his lips pressed against your mouth with purpose. “Unless…” 

He backed away, blinking down at you. “Unless what?” You watched as he arched a brow, the hand not on your shoulder sliding up your side and pushing the thin hoodie you wore with it. 

“Unless you can be quick.” His eyes darkened, Frankie glancing down and then back up. “And I mean really quick, because -” 

You pushed him away eagerly, hand firmly on his shoulder, but thanks to your position, you pushed a little too hard, Frankie’s weight - and the momentum from your shove - carrying him backwards and out of the hammock, the man tumbling to the grass with his mouth open in surprise. “Oh, shit, I’m -” You rolled, too, peeking down at him over the edge of the fabric as he blinked up at you, mouth hanging open in shock. “Are you alright?” 

But you were trying not to laugh, because the sight of Frankie sprawled out on the grass beneath you was downright amusing. “I’m fine. My pride’s taken a hell of a hit, but…” He groaned, swiping a hand over his face. “I’ll live. Probably.” I’m sure you will. 

Carefully, you moved so that you could stand from the hammock, one foot planted on each side of his hips. “We should go inside and make sure.” Bending down and resting your hands on your knees, you locked eyes with him. “I can be very quick, Francisco. Can you?” His eyes darkened again before he used both elbows to push himself upright, lips crashing into yours a second time. Perfect. This is perfect. 

“Fuck being quick.” It was little more than a whisper, but you heard him nonetheless, Frankie trailing off before he tugged on your lip with his teeth, his nose wrinkling. “Ironhead can wait for us.” 

— 

[aeolianblues]

Jarvis Cocker: At the end of 1996, I had “a nervous breakdown”

Kate Mossman of The New Statesman talks to Jarvis Cocker, September 2021

The singer on nostalgia, hating David Cameron, and how crashing a Michael Jackson performance had “a toxic effect” on him.

Jarvis Cocker leans on a table in the courtyard of the House of St Barnabas, a members’ club and homeless charity, and one of the only bits of London’s Soho that does not bear the marks of the interminable Crossrail project. Cocker says he’s not one for conspiracy theories, “but there’s a lot of dark mutterings about what has happened while everybody’s been locked away. You can see it in Soho, where loads of building work’s gone on. They took an opportunity. Cement’s gone up in price because there’s none left.”

He’s not as tall as he is in your mind’s eye – a solid 6ft 1 – but he cuts a stately figure in green cords and a high-quality lilac shirt. Here, in a moccasin-style shoe, is the foot that was broken, along with his pelvis and ankle, when he fell out of a window in Sheffield pretending to be Spiderman. (He spent months as a young man gigging from a wheelchair.) Here is the rear that was waved at Michael Jackson, in a life-changing moment it still upsets him to talk about. Here are the long legs that bent like those of a freshly born foal on stage, and here are the glasses that were held on his face with an elastic band so he could execute his moves. These long, smooth fingers would frame his face, or flick his “V” signs. As sombre as he is, seating himself on a bench alongside the New Statesman, he is the only pop star that most people under 80, regardless of their artistic ability, could have a crack at drawing.

You feel wary of going straight in on “the Nineties” – it must be such a bore – yet Cocker brings them up right away, talking about a song called “Cocaine Socialism” which he wrote for his band Pulp in 1996, at their commercial and critical height. It was all about New Labour’s courtship of pop stars. The title was ironic he explains, because “cocaine will make you not give a fuck about any other member of the human race”. Cocker shelved the song because he thought it might actually stop the people of Britain voting Labour – a sign, he says, of his overweening ego at the time.

When I was 14, a friend gave me a perfectly executed cartoon of Cocker, drawn on squared paper in a maths lesson and titled “My future husband”. It is often a source of frustration for musicians when their biggest audience proves to be teenage girls, but this is to overlook the power of teenage girls – and teenagers in general – to work up an intensity of feeling that all but creates a career. Cocker should know, because he conceived of his future – conceived of Pulp, “planned my whole life out” – at the age of 14 in an economics lesson, writing it all down in exercise books which he recently unearthed in an attic. 

He had a written manifesto, “very earnest, about how we’re going to get famous, have our own record label and radio station, and help other bands, and break the tyranny of the major labels”. And he’d drawn pictures, too, of an arm, with “major record company” tattooed on it and a meat cleaver saying “Pulp Incorporated”, ready to chop off the hand.

“It was supposed to be some socialist empowerment of the people. It wasn’t just: ‘I’m going to buy a big house in Barbados and have a jet ski’.”

Cocker’s proudest moment in a 30-year career was when Martin Amis agreed with something he’d said, when they appeared together on a TV talkshow approaching the millennium. Jarvis had stated that, in the 20th century, fame had replaced heaven as our ultimate goal, our way of cheating death. His own moment of fame, when it came, was sizeable, but it took him 15 years to get there: Pulp formed in 1981 – they should have been a post-punk band rather than a Britpop one.

In 1996 Melody Maker judged Cocker the fifth most famous man in Britain – after John Major, Frank Bruno, Will Carling and Michael Barrymore. Two years later, the novelist Nick Hornby reflected, “Jarvis Cocker is an acute and amusing chronicler of our life and times… but sometimes… you wish he’d communicate via chat show or letter rather than song.” This he has done, and often. Jarvis has been Jarvis for the last 25 years, in radio, TV, the written word – and perhaps less so in music, in the popular imagination. When you have lingered so long outside fame’s door, fully formed and ready to go, you must be loath to make an exit. Only in the garden of a private members’ club can he go about peacefully; he cycles in London, without a helmet, so you suspect he is recognised often, moving at speed.

Cocker shows me photos of his new bike on an old iPhone – a Moulton small-wheeled cycle, described by Norman Foster as the greatest work of 20th century British design. There are racks back and front, “to put yer bag on”. “I have spent a lot of time on quite random, trivial things,” he tells me. When his beloved 1970 Hillman Imp car finally gave up the ghost, he had it crushed into a cube and gave it away to a fan.

Cocker was in the Paramount Hotel on West 46th Street, New York, in December 1996 when a girl called Imogen called from the New Labour office and asked for his endorsement. 

“I’d been to some event down Whitehall,” he recalls. “A kind of wooing event, and I’d felt really weird about that. It’s hard to imagine now. I was 16-17 when Thatcher got in, and a Labour government seemed like a fantasy. I felt very conflicted, because I really wanted it to happen but something just seemed wrong. Even at that time – a quarter of a century ago – I thought, ‘You should be doing politics, not trying to get some endorsements from some people in bands’. There was a desire for it to happen, and then this disease. It felt like getting chatted up.”

Imogen had tracked Cocker down during what he calls, perhaps surprisingly, a “severely traumatic part of my life”. At the end of 1996 he was having what he refers to today as a nervous breakdown. When the telephone rang in his hotel room, he assumed the suite was bugged. He’d gone to New York around Christmas time and, alone and anxious, found himself unable to face the crowds. But he also struggled to stay indoors, tormented by the aesthetics of his hotel room – “super designed, with a giant picture of a Vermeer painting, a woman pouring some milk out of a blue jug. You walked in to an art installation, and I was in a fragile state of mind.” 

Cocker’s descent – which seems to merge with the ascent of New Labour in a lurid kind of fever dream – began with his trespassing the Brit Awards stage in February 1996 during Michael Jackson’s performance of “Earth Song”. “I don’t really like talking about that particular incident,” he says, looking down at his knees. “People said at the time that it was a publicity stunt but it wasn’t really like that. It had a toxic effect on my life.”

There is a considerable mismatch between the folk memory of the moment, and the memory held by the perpetrator himself. To most, Cocker’s actions look more heroic as the years go by: the last cry of a bloated Eighties megastar defeated by British indie, or something to that effect. Jackson’s pageantry seems worse now than it did at the time: the white messiah robes and outstretched arms; the children lining up to embrace him; the rabbi bowing his head for a kiss. The pipe cleaner figure of Cocker floats on stage looking puzzled, wafts an imaginary fart at the audience (with his bottom clothed) and briefly raises his T-shirt. Hardly something to be arrested for (as he was, before being released without charge) but the 1990s are a draconian place, when you travel back in time.

[see also: Bridget Jones and the Blair years]

Cocker was represented, in his assault charge, by the comedian Bob Mortimer, a former solicitor. David Bowie’s personal film crew were able to provide tapes shot from a certain angle to prove that he had not, in fact, knocked into any children when taking the stage. But there was condemnation from Damon Albarn (“he’s got some very odd ideas about reality”) and Jackson (“sickened, saddened, shocked, upset, cheated and angry”).

The tabloids subjected him to feverish attention. Cocker had always talked about drugs – the liner notes of Pulp’s single “Sorted For E’s & Wizz” showed you how to make a drugs wrap (“Ban This Sick Stunt” said the Daily Mirror). And he’d always talked about sex – he watched a lot of porn in hotel rooms on tour. Now, there were kiss and tells, and an attempt by the Sun to engineer a meeting between Cocker and his estranged father in Australia.

What thoughts were passing through his mind when he stood up and walked towards Jackson’s stage? He won’t say. “One thing I will say is that people are still convinced that I pulled my trousers down and showed my bottom. And it’s really not true. That’s when I realised what a c*** David Cameron was.”

In November 2011, he explains, the Observer put celebrities’ questions to the new prime minister of the coalition. Cocker asked Cameron whether he really understood the phrases “futures” and “derivatives”. Cameron gave a long answer to prove that he did and added: “I was there that night, at the Brit Awards. I saw him led away. I saw his bum.”

Cocker stirs his Americano.

“I just thought, ‘OK, you are a liar. You’ve just shown yourself to be a liar and a complete twat’.”

In the New Statesman that year, Cocker wrote a reflection on hangovers, inspired by the one he had the day after Tony Blair was elected. The hangover lingered, as he criticised New Labour’s treatment of single mothers, students and the disabled. It lasted 13 years, he said. It ended when Cameron got in – not because things were better, but because that’s when he started drinking again.

There is a photograph of Cocker as a long-legged child pictured with his mother, granny, sister and aunties outside their terraced house in Intake, a suburb of Sheffield. With her red pixie haircut and large specs, his mother, an art student, looks just like an indie girl from the 1990s – or a member of Pulp – in a strange cultural collision of the original hippies and the Sixties revival decades later.

Cocker lived on the dole in the Eighties trying to get his band off the ground. During the Britpop era, Labour’s Welfare To Work scheme made such a life much trickier, inspiring a campaign by Oasis’ manager Alan McGee. The dole must have had a huge impact on people’s ability to pursue creative work?

“Probably for six months, and then you get lazy,” Cocker says. “Not wanting to sound like Norman Tebbit, but you do, and that’s what drove me away from Sheffield – people were dropping like flies, having drug overdoses or losing it, and I thought, ‘It’s only a matter of time before I end up there’. So that’s when I started hatching my escape plan.”

His ticket out – a place to study film at Central Saint Martins in London – produced “Common People”, one of the most famous songs of the 20th century. Pulp were more refined, classy, slippery and sardonic than other Britpop bands. The image of working-class life as seen through the eyes of the song’s Greek art student gets to the heart of Cocker’s use of irony: he was interested in perceptions of class difference, perceptions of the north-south divide, as much as the real thing.

Having lived in the south for 35 years, he tells me the BBC’s insistence on using regional accents for announcers is a patronising attempt to keep people in their place. His mother became a Tory parish councillor for the village of Carlton in Lindrick, Nottinghamshire. In 1998 she told the Mirror, in an embarrassing interview, that she admired Thatcher – until the third term, when the prime minister became a megalomaniac. “I raised Jarvis on Tory values that if you’ve worked hard all your life, you want to keep what you’ve earned,” she said. Her son tells me he doesn’t agree with his mother’s support of Brexit – “but you won’t find many people who are going to say that everything’s going to plan. We’re on the downhill, and everybody’s got their own theories of why that is.”

Unlike his mother, Cocker has voted Labour since he was old enough to vote. “I can’t imagine voting for any other party,” he says, but that doesn’t mean he’s excited by the current one. “Corbyn I was excited about. But having spent a lot of time moving between France and here, his inability to come to any position on Brexit finished it for me.” Keir Starmer’s Labour, he says, “feels like the politics of opposition. It’s happening to the left all over the world, isn’t it? People have started wondering what level of dictatorship would be OK.”

A few years ago he visited the Magna Science Adventure Centre in Rotherham which recreates the world of the steel mills. Watching the installation of a “big melt” – when molten steel was poured into giant electric arc furnaces – made him strangely emotional. “It must be some kind of folk memory,” he says. “It was awful work, and loads of people got f***ed by the time they were 40. But there was some result and that’s what people miss – that there isn’t anything to glue people together in that way. Imagine working in a shipyard. After six months, suddenly there’s this big, massive f***-off ship and you’ve been part of that.

“There is a nostalgia, not for vibration white finger or lung disease, but for times when people worked together and there would be a result. I’m not an authority. It’s not for me to tell the Labour Party what to do, but I think – well, I thought I stumbled on something.”

He still praises the Sheffield city council, once nicknamed the “Socialist Republic of South Yorkshire”, which allowed children to travel for 2p on buses. He once said that when things took off for Britpop, he thought he was going to be part of something that changed society, like punk did, but it just turned out to be showbusiness.

Of all the extra-curricular jobs Cocker has done, the one the public took to most, which really seemed to fit him, was his gig as a DJ on BBC Radio 6 Music, running his Sunday Service show. His voice was as much a part of his sex appeal for teenage girls as his looks had been. The show explored a mundane but deeply nostalgic aspect of British culture: that time on a Sunday afternoon when everyone felt flat because it was nearly time for the week to start again, and you hadn’t done your homework. 

He’d resisted radio for a long time because of his father. Mac Cocker walked out in 1970, when Jarvis was seven, leaving Sheffield for Sydney, where he began a 33-year career with the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. His gentle Yorkshire accent was appreciated on the airwaves. He had a show called The Night Train on Saturdays (Jarvis has a Radio 4 show for insomniacs called Wireless Nights); and a show called The Globetrotter on Sunday afternoons, and another called Vinyl Museum. High of forehead with long hair and large National Health-style specs, Mac wore a tank top not unlike those his son wore in Pulp. He sang with a band called Life On Mars.

Traditionally, Cocker doesn’t talk much about his father. As we begin to do so, a very tiny and very hairy caterpillar makes its way along the edge of the table in front of him. It is barely a centimetre long, with legs so fine they move in little ripples of dark and light. Cocker does what all humans do when faced with a caterpillar and tries to persuade it to clamber aboard the nail on his index finger. After two or three refusals, it does so.

Mac Cocker left his son with small bits of information about himself, like a copy of Harold Pinter’s The Birthday Party on the shelf. When Jarvis was 12, he came to visit, bringing records with him.

“That’s when I found out he was a DJ. He’d obviously just gone into some record label and picked up some records and gave me them. I ascribed a real meaning to them, but it was just promos. They were wank. They were just these really shit records! Anyway…”

Cocker wonders if he was propelled into music because of his father, but explains that any biological imperative, if it comes from an absent parent, remains a mysterious thing. “I know it must come from him, because my mother is so tone-deaf. But if you don’t know him, it’s like it’s come from somewhere supernatural.”

His family would say, you’re just like your father – “but usually as a negative thing. It was strange to be brought up with this cloudy non-presence.” Cocker and his father struck up a form of relationship eventually, whenever Pulp toured in Australia.

“You’re telling yourself that you sprang from the loins of this person, but if you don’t know the person, that disconnect is really uncomfortable. What used to drive me mad was having really inconsequential conversations. When you tried and go on to the deeper stuff, it was just words… I could tell he was always very uncomfortable, and I’m not exactly the world’s best person for talking about emotions, so I was always terrified that an awkward silence was going to descend.”

Did they at least share music? What kind was Mac into? “Jazz,” he says, in disbelief. His father left a record behind in the Sheffield house – an EP by the Sixties French singer Gilbert Bécaud. “You know when singles have those big centres? He’d made a centre for it by cutting a bit out of a Player’s cigarette packet. That had always been in the house. I knew it was his, because his name was written on the back of it.”

When Mac was dying, Cocker visited him in Australia and took the Bécaud EP with him.

“I just Blu-Tacked it on his wall. It was the only thing I had of his. I just thought, because he went a bit away with the fairies before he died, I thought, that’s something from his past. I just stuck it on there.”

And left it?

“Yeah.”

In October this year, Cocker will release his own album of French music – songs originally sung by Françoise Hardy, Serge Gainsbourg, Jacques Dutronc – to accompany the forthcoming Wes Anderson film The French Dispatch, which is set in the 1960s. It features a fictional pop star called Tip Top who is modelled partly on Cocker. Anderson directed his intonation, his delivery, in the studio. Cocker’s French, he says, is “something I should be ashamed and embarrassed about”, despite the fact he got to A-level standard, was married for six years to the French stylist Camille Bidault-Waddington, lived in Paris, and has a French son. He regularly travels to France to visit Albert, now 18, and stays in an apartment backing on to the Hotel Amour. Albert looks just like him. During the pandemic he got around the social distancing rules by hugging him through a bed sheet.

In 1998 Cocker told the Sydney Morning Herald “I just want to find a way of being an adult without it being boring.” Does he feel he’s achieved this? “I know I’m still slightly immature,” he says. “I mistrusted adults as a child. But there’s something really grotesque about people who refuse to grow up. When I became a father, people were always saying [he whines] ‘You’re going to change’. But actually it doesn’t change you, it just opens up a new bit of you. It was a real revelation to me, to realise I had that instinct. I found it liberating. As you move through life, these little doors open. The other ones are still open as well.”

He thinks all human beings believe they just missed a golden age. For him it was the Sixties, the decade in which he was born, “when the Beatles were still a group. They came to an end as the Seventies came, and I was six or seven. That’s the same year that me dad left. It felt like, OK, you’ve had your fun.

“When you’re a kid and you’re looking at the adult world,” he ponders, “you’re only looking at what’s current at that time. Like me wanting to be a pop star. By the time it happened, pop stars were on their way out. By the time you’re old enough to be part of it, it’s gone. So in a funny way, kids live in the past.

“I think that’s the fatal flaw in the whole Britpop thing. I don’t like to say that word, because it was an invented label – but that was the fatal flaw, and it takes us back to the fatal flaw of electing a Labour government and believing it would be the same as it used to be. Let’s make the Beatles again… Oasis really tried to do that, but you can’t make a period in history happen again.”

As a songwriter, Cocker telescoped himself into the future with “Disco 2000” and “Help The Aged”. The former felt open-hearted but the latter, intended as a kiss-off to youth-obsessed politics, sounded sour at the time.

“It always used to drive me mad, people going on about, ‘Oh, you’re so ironic’,” he says. “It would be rubbish to devote your life to doing something that was insincere. I guess I’ll often undercut what I’m singing about as I’m doing it – and that’s just because of the way my mind works. As I think one thing, I’ll think the opposite as well. Later in life, you discover that you are allowed to have two thoughts: it’s a natural function of the way your mind works.”

Some would say that, as you progress through life, you get better at trusting your instincts?

“I think if you just follow your instincts your whole life, you’ll be a monster.”

Cocker brightens, perhaps because our interview is ending. When he talks about his hobbies, he gives a big leonine flash, raising his silvery eyebrows above the frames of his glasses.

I phoned him a few weeks later, after the summer, to see what he’d been up to. He was at a secret location in Spain, making a movie he wasn’t allowed to talk about. A pandemic spent going through his loft, and noticing priceless keepsakes among the rubbish, has inspired him to write a book about pop and nostalgia – Good Pop, Bad Pop – to be published next year.

He is dying to be back on stage after two years off it. “I’m touching a wooden table now. We’ve already had to postpone this tour twice.” And he talks about Labour again – he really seems to care! You think back to his manifesto, his teenage sketch of a meat cleaver chopping off a hand. Then you look at a life lived gently, moving between projects, ponderings and “random trivial things” – and you wonder what his revolution would look like.

Jarvis Cocker’s new album “Tip Top: Chansons d’Ennui” is released on 22 October.