#Max x Sandra

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Poll: Finale

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hi this is the cutest picture ever actually

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Sandra touching Max's chest in Peter Pan Goes Wrong (2016)

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new amsterdam cast season 4 bloopers 💘

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Batting Practice Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You love how excited Bradley and Everett are for the Tiny Eagles' final game, and you can't wait to show Bradley the surprise you have planned for him. With an undefeated season and the title of Coaches of the Year on the line, you and Molly cheer for the boys with everything you have. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

On Saturday morning, before the sun was even up, Bradley was kissing your forehead and whispering, "I'll see you at the game, Kitten." He had been spending more nights at your house than his own apartment, and every time he had to go back to his place to get fresh clothes or do laundry, he kind of hated it. 

As he climbed out of your bed and put on yesterday's clothing, you reached for him, and he gave you a proper kiss. "See you in a few hours," you mumbled before rolling over and going back to sleep. Ten weeks. He had only known you and Everett for ten weeks, but he was so in love with you and your son and your little house and everything about you. 

With a sigh, he grabbed his hat and his wallet and headed outside, locking up behind himself as he went. He had been doing the sneaking in late and sneaking back out early routine on occasion, not wanting Everett to feel like Bradley was taking over his house. But every time he was there, he felt like he belonged with the two of you. 

The school year was wrapping up for Everett, but Bradley had enjoyed working on math and reading homework at the kitchen island. He enjoyed tossing a baseball around your front yard. Every time he left, he wanted to go back.

He ran a load of his laundry while he ate breakfast in his sparse kitchen. Today was the last tee ball game, and he couldn't believe it was less than three months ago that Bob had been practically begging Bradley to help him with the Tiny Eagles in the first place. What if he had said no? He didn't even want to think about that. And as of right now, his team was undefeated, thanks in large part to you and Everett and how much fun Bradley had been having. 

As he pulled on his coach's jersey and grabbed his blue hat and whistle, he silently hoped his team would win their last game, because he knew how happy that would make Everett. And if he and Bob won coaches of the year, he'd give his trophy to Everett to add to the collection of baseball items in his bedroom. 

When Bradley parked at the field a little bit early, nobody else was there yet, not even Bob. He had noticed that Bob had been cutting it a little close the past few games and practices, showing up barely on time, looking a little disheveled with a smiling Molly in tow. It took all of Bradley's willpower not to rib Bob too hard about it, because his fellow aviator turned crimson every time. But Molly could take the trash talk like a pro, which Bradley already appreciated about your sister. 

And ever since Bradley had gotten a glimpse of the diamond rings that the jeweler had on display, he couldn't help but think that things with you were moving too fast and still too slow at the same time. So he fought the urge to max out his credit card, but he was still thinking about what kind of ring you would like.

"Coach Bradley!" 

He looked up to see Sandra and Henry rushing toward him with two gigantic gift baskets. She was wearing practically no clothing, and he was agitated that she had been able to corner him. "Hey, Henry! Sandra." He patted Henry on his shoulder, and then Sandra was in his personal space, handing him one of the baskets that was filled with so much random shit. "Thanks," he mumbled, trying to sidestep her hand as it found his arm. 

"You're so welcome. This season has been fantastic, all thanks to you and Bob," she purred. "I'm just hoping I can get Henry on your team for the fall league. And I'm hoping you'll choose me to be Team Mom next time."

Bradley rubbed his mustache. He'd been thinking about coaching again, even going so far as to considering becoming a head coach. He and Bob could have teams that went against each other, and Bradley thought that might be a lot of fun. "Thanks, Sandra. And you know what, that's a great idea. Since I'm dating our Team Mom now, it would probably be a conflict of interest if I chose her again in the fall."

The sour look on her face as Bradley noticed Bob's truck pull into the parking lot followed by your car had him smiling a little bit as he waved back to Everett who was waving wildly through the open window. "Excuse me," he mumbled as he headed for your car. Hadn't he just seen you a few hours ago? Been in your bed with your arms around his neck, felt your soft breaths on his cheek?

"Fuck," he gasped, jogging up the hill with his gift basket, antsy to get to you. When you climbed out of your car, he set the basket on your roof and kissed you hard. 

"Ew!" Molly gasped as she climbed out of Bob's truck. 

But you just smiled and said, "I like it when you wear your hat backwards."

"Why do you think I keep doing it?" he asked softly, and you bit your lip as you glanced back at the gift basket.

"Something to remember Sandra by?" you asked with an eye roll. "I'll give you a better thank you gift later, Coach."

"Oh, I can't wait," he mumbled, kissing your forehead as Ev climbed out of your backseat. "Hey, Kiddo! Last game. Are you excited?" 

"Yes!" he said, jumping up to high five Bradley before running over to Bob as well. "If we win today, then that means our team is the best one!" Bradley watched Everett bounce around between Bob and Molly as you chucked the gift from Sandra onto your passenger seat.

"Hey, careful, Kitten. There might be something good in there."

You rolled your eyes and closed your door, and Bradley laced his fingers through yours. "Yeah, I saw a Starbucks gift card. It's mine now."

"Whatever you want," he whispered, running his thumb along your ring finger. The kids were starting to warm up with Bob, and Molly had secured a good spot on the bleachers. "I'll see you after the Tiny Eagles go undefeated for a perfect season." 

You kissed him hard and then, when Bradley turned toward the other coaches, he felt you slap his ass. "You can do it, Coach Bradley! You're the best!" Then you turned innocently toward the bleachers and brightly said, "Hello, Sandra!" before continuing toward your sister.

---------------------------

"It's the tight, white pants that made me do it," you whispered to Molly as she shook with laughter. "I was helpless to control myself." 

"God, you're right," Molly sighed. "It's like... I never knew how badly I needed a man in a uniform. And I'm talking the flight suit, the khakis, and the tee ball getup."

You looked at Bob for a beat. "It's the glasses, Mo."

"The fucking glasses," she whined softly. She was going to move in with Bob next weekend after Everett's birthday baseball game. 

You wanted to warn your sister that she was moving really quickly, especially for her, but you just couldn't. You thought she and Bob made a lot of sense, and you were happy for her. Bob was the perfect departure from the bad boys she usually went for. He kept turning to look at Molly as the game started, just like Bradley did with you. 

"How did this happen?" she asked.

"I honestly don't know," you replied. 

"I'm fully addicted to the pizza nights now, I hope you know that," she told you with a grin. "We can win any argument when Natasha is with us. It's literally perfect."

You loved the pizza nights, too. You loved the way Everett was always welcome on someone's lap. You loved how Bradley cut the pizza slices smaller for him. You loved how comfortable you felt. "It is perfect."

Molly cleared her throat just as Everett went up to bat. "Not to dampen the mood, but what did your lawyer say?"

You took a deep breath, but you found that it actually wasn't so hard to talk about. "I'm going to meet with them in person, but getting Danny's name off of Everett's birth certificate is going to be challenging. Would be easier if I were remarried and looking to have my spouse adopt him. But they are going to do some research about child support based on Danny's shitty income which I'm sure will make him rage at me again."

Molly hugged you tight. "I'm sorry this is happening."

You nodded, but you found that you didn't want to cry about it anymore. "Me too. But we'll continue to be better off without him, even if they can't make him pay."

Then you both jumped to your feet. "Go Ev!" Molly cheered as he hit the ball ridiculously far. He ran the bases as Bradley and Bob cheered him on. And the look of pure elation on Bradley's face as Everett crossed home plate and ran into his arms was going to stay with you forever. 

"We're leading by one run now!" Molly was bouncing up and down.

Then it really hit you. "They're going to be undefeated, aren't they?" You felt kind of silly. It was just tee ball. But it had actually become really important to you and everyone around you. 

"I think so!" Molly gushed as you both sat down and held hands through the final inning. And when the Tiny Condors were not able to tie the game, you felt tears in your eyes for a different reason as you smiled and ran down the bleachers toward Everett. 

You scooped him up into your arms and squeezed him tight. "You're so good, Ev! I'm so proud of you!"

"Mommy! Aunt Molly! We won every game!"

"You sure did!" Molly told him, kissing his cheek before heading toward Bob. She made no secret of them being together as a moment later, you saw her hand slide up the front of his jersey as she kissed him. 

Bradley was left to converse with the umpires, but his smile was huge when he finally turned your way. He high fived and hugged all of the Tiny Eagles, but he knelt in front of Everett and hugged him for a long time. And when they started to have a quiet conversation, you gave them a little space.

You hoped this meant that Bradley and Bob would both win awards at the league picnic tomorrow afternoon. You already had a treat planned for your boyfriend just in case, but you thought you could use it either way. 

After Bradley kissed Everett's forehead, he stood and kissed yours as well. "Thanks for not pulling Ev from the team after I fucked up, Kitten."

You smiled up at him. "I didn't have the heart to do it. I'm glad I didn't."

"I love you. Let me buy you both some ice cream."

-----------------------------

After Bradley offered to buy you and Everett a treat from the snack bar, you told him to take Everett to the bench and wait. You insisted you wanted to buy it. So Bradley gave him a piggyback ride over to the same bench where you and he had flirted relentlessly on your 'first date'. Bradley smiled just thinking about how he had answered your phone when Frank kept calling you nonstop. 

Everett jumped down onto the bench, and Bradley sat next to him while you waved from the line. "Hey, kiddo?" he asked Everett after you blew him a kiss. 

"Yeah, Coach?"

Bradley chuckled and looked at his excited face. "You can call me Bradley now. All the time. Tee ball is over."

"Okay," he replied, still all smiles from winning the final game. 

Bradley cleared his throat and made sure you weren't on your way over yet. "Can you keep a secret from your mom? It's nothing bad or scary, I promise."

"Okay," he said again, nodding this time.

"What kind of ring did your mom used to wear? When she was married to your dad?"

Everett's little brow scrunched up as he gave Bradley a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"Her wedding ring," Bradley told him quietly. "What did it look like?"

"Oh," he said, plopping down next to Bradley now. "She didn't have one."

Bradley cocked his head to the side. "She never wore one?"

"Nope."

"Huh." Surely you must have had a wedding ring? Did Danny really not buy you a ring? "Ev, she never wore any rings? Not even a plain one?"

"Nope."

Bradley settled back against the bench, and stared off into space. He'd been thinking about it a bit, and he really wanted to make sure he didn't get you a ring that was similar to something you had worn from Danny. But if you never had one at all...

"Take it before it melts!" you said, laughing as you jolted Bradley from his thoughts. He grabbed one of the ice creams from your hands and quickly licked the sides before he helped Everett with his.

"Thanks, Kitten," Bradley told you as you went to sit on the other side of your son. "Are you excited for the picnic tomorrow?" he asked Everett.

"Yep! I'm going to get a trophy!"

"I think Bradley might be getting a trophy, too!" you added, licking your ice cream and winking at Bradley. He watched you eat with narrowed eyes as his own snack melted. 

Bradley grunted. "Well, the most important thing is that I'm going to get you ready for real baseball in the fall. And the fact that San Diego has nice weather year round means that you'll probably get so good from practicing all the time that you'll be able to get a scholarship someday."

"What's a scholarship?" Everett asked as his ice cream dripped on Bradley's shoe.

"Ev," you mumbled and went to clean it up. But Bradley took your hand and guided you back to the bench with a shake of his head.

"It's fine, Kitten. It's just my shoe," he told you. And then he turned Everett's ice cream so it wouldn't keep dripping everywhere. "A scholarship is money that colleges sometimes give to athletes so they will come play sports for the school. Your mom would probably be delighted if you got one."

You laughed as you bit into your cone. "Would be nice. Lawyers are expensive," you muttered, leaning in to kiss Everett's cheek. 

"You need to keep me in the loop when you do things like that," he told you, shooting you a no nonsense look. 

"Okay," you whispered. 

Once Everett had finished his ice cream and washed his hands, Bradley walked both of you back to your car. "Want me to pick you both up for the picnic tomorrow?"

"Yes!" Everett cheered. "Your car is fun!" 

But once he was buckled in his booster seat, you pulled Bradley close and whispered, "I have something special for you, Coach." And Bradley audibly groaned as your hand came to rest on his cock, stroking him through his snug baseball pants. "Stay over tomorrow night?"

"Of course," he grunted next to your ear as you squeezed him gently. "Fuck."

You just giggled and said, "I think you'll love your surprise."

Then you backed out of the parking spot while Bradley stood next to his Bronco with a semi and waved like an idiot. He wasn't sure what kind of surprise you had in store for him, but he loved everything you did. And then he drove off in the opposite direction, back to the jewelry shop to pick up your necklace which the jeweler had needed to keep longer than anticipated. And he could also look at the rings some more. 

-------------------------

"Where's Aunt Molly?" Everett whined as you sat with him on your lap on the crowded bleachers. All of the tee ball teams had been invited today, and there were so many people at the picnic. 

"She's on her way from work, Ev. She should be here soon."

"What if she misses my trophy?"

"Then we'll have to show it to her when she gets here."

"What if she misses Coach Bob's trophy?"

You kissed his cheek and held him tighter. He was beyond excited that his coaches had been nominated for awards. "Then she can see Coach Bob's trophy later." 

You laughed at the inadvertent dirty joke you just told, and then you saw your sister walking down from her car right as the ceremony started. She found a spot to stand off the side and waved at you. "Look, Aunt Molly's here. You feel better now?"

"Yep!" Everett told you as he waved to her as well.

You watched the third and second place teams get their medals, and when they called the Tiny Eagles up to collect their trophies, Everett ran up alongside Bradley and Bob. You took some pictures while you cheered. You were struck with a pang of sadness over the fact that Danny didn't want to be part of this. But then you saw Bradley pull Everett into a big hug as soon as he had his trophy in his hand.

Your son was happy all the time when he was around Bradley. He always seemed to provide Everett with love, attention, and comfort. And that was in addition to all of the fun they seemed to have together. You took another picture of them hugging, and then it was Bradley's turn for his award.

Bob looked so shy and hesitant as he thanked everyone for a great season, but when it was Bradley's turn, you couldn't stop smiling. 

He gave all of the kids on the team a special shout out, and then he thanked the league for trusting that he and Bob could handle a team like this on their first try. And then you had to suppress your giggles as Bradley found where you were sitting on the bleachers and said, "And a big thank you to our Team Mom. None of this would have happened without her."

You waved down to them, and Everett, Bradley and Bob all waved back. Then Bradley was awarded his trophy and promptly handed it to Everett. "Seriously," Molly called out to you. "He's so much better than Danny."

"I know," you agreed, taking in the enormous smile on Everett's face as he ran to Molly. And then you were heading down the bleachers and into Bradley's arms. 

"Hey, Kitten," he whispered, kissing your cheek as you laughed. 

"Remember that day when you silently bullied me into agreeing to be the Team Mom?" you asked, looking up at him.

His grin and his backward hat looked exactly like they had that day as he said, "I sure do. God, I was so into you. I thought you must have been married though."

You buried your face against his chest and laughed. "The hot coach wanted me to be Team Mom? No way I wasn't raising my hand."

He kissed the top of your head and led you over to the picnic area where Everett was sitting with Molly, his grip on both trophies unrelenting. "Thanks for letting him hold that," you told Bradley.

But he just shrugged. "He can have it. I think he was more excited about me winning it than I was," he said with a laugh. "And I think I'm going to coach another tee ball team in the fall. I loved this."

Your heart swelled with love for him. "You should. You're good at it."

"Deployments will be hard to get around though," he whispered, kissing you on the head again. "Gonna be hard for us, too."

"Ev and I aren't going anywhere."

-------------------------------

After the picnic, Bradley drove you both back to your house and helped a very sleepy Everett get a quick shower and get ready for bed. "Go relax, Kitten. I got this," he promised as Everett changed into pajamas and brushed his teeth. 

You bit your lip and kissed Everett goodnight. Then you whispered, "Come find me when you're done," before you walked into your bedroom and closed the door, glancing at him over your shoulder. 

He grunted, wondering if he was going to get the surprise you promised him. His mind was filled with dirty blowjobs and kitten costumes, and he had to take a deep breath as Everett crossed the hallway back to his bedroom in his baseball pajamas and climbed up into his bed.

"Have you thought about moving into the extra bedroom?" he asked with a yawn, and Bradley smiled as he pulled the covers up over him.

"Honestly, Kiddo? I think about it all the time."

"We should talk to my mom about it," Everett muttered as he rolled onto his side, already half asleep. 

"Yeah," Bradley whispered, "we should." Then he straightened both trophies on Everett's dresser and turned off the lamp before leaving the room. But he thought that another level of commitment was definitely going to be necessary before he could move in here. He'd been thinking about it though.

But all thoughts simply vanished from his brain as he opened your bedroom door and saw you standing there next to your bed. A strangled sound escaped from the back of his throat as his jaw dropped open. 

"You okay, Coach?" you asked teasingly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, hands planted on your hips. 

"Kitten," he gasped, eyes going wider. "Baby."

You were wearing a tiny, skimpy red and white cheerleading uniform and holding red pom poms at your hips. The little pleated skirt barely hid anything from his view, and he could see your peaked nipples poking against the top.

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I heard you won Coach of the year. I'm so proud of you." You took a step closer to him, and he wasn't sure if his cock could actually get any harder than it was. You'd put on some red lipstick and some extra eye makeup, and you looked fucking hot. He was having a hard time speaking as he reached for you.

"This is for me?" he managed to ask as he pulled you against him and ran his hands along the little skirt. But you spun in his arms, and he felt all of the blood in his body rush to his groin as you rubbed your ass against him.

"For you." You looked back at him over your shoulder as he ran his hands down along your bare thighs.

"You look like one of the Phillies cheerleaders," he whispered in your ear.

"That's what I was going for," you gasped with a smile.

"My first crush was on the entire 1995 Phillies cheerleading roster."

"Why am I not surprised?" Your soft laughter had him bucking against your backside. He was completely ready to go. 

"You like dressing up for me," he muttered as you spun to face him again.

You nodded and shook your pom poms as you shimmied for him. "Yeah, I do. I think you like it, too."

"That would be an understatement," he growled as your tits nearly bounced out of that tiny top. When he pulled you closer by your hips, you dropped the pom poms to the floor and reached for the fly of his pants, and Bradley leaned down to kiss you softly. "I love this."

You kissed him all over his lips and mustache and cheeks, and he was sure he had your lipstick everywhere, and he was so fucking turned on. And then you were in front of him on your knees, and his baseball pants and underwear were around his thighs. He quickly pulled his jersey and undershirt off as you wrapped your pretty lips around his cock and looked up at him as you took him inch by inch until he met the back of your throat. 

"Yeah," he groaned. "Just like this. I'd jerk off thinking about those cheerleaders sucking my cock."

You moaned so loudly with him against the back of your throat that he had to bite his tongue against the urge to blow his load already. 

"But you're so much better. My god." He was already panting as you withdrew him from your mouth. Your lipstick was on his cock now, but he barely had time to process anything before you were sucking on him again. He watched you, his actual fantasy come to life, as you gave him excellent head. When he ran his thumb along your cheek, he could feel his cock inside your mouth. He needed to stop you, because he desperately wanted to fuck you, but this felt too perfect.

But when you started running your fingernails along his balls, he pulled you up to your feet. You let out a startled laugh before he pressed his lips to yours. "I wanna fuck you," he managed between sloppy kisses as he grabbed at your bare backside with both hands. 

You were moaning against his lips as his dick was poking into your belly. "Anything you want," you gasped, running your hands along his shoulders and pecs. 

"Don't tell me that," he growled, picking you up as you squealed and getting you on your knees at the edge of the bed. "God damn. I want everything." You looked too good on your hands and knees, glancing back at him while your glistening pussy and ass were bare for him. He ran his fingers through your slick until you were moaning his name, and then he knelt and put his mouth on you as he used his hand to coat himself with your wetness.

"Coach!" you cried out as Bradley licked your pussy and kissed the backs of your thigh. 

"You gotta be quiet, Kitten," he grunted, pushing your knees a little further apart as he lapped at you until you were bouncing back to meet his tongue. But you just got louder and louder, and when Bradley stood behind you and slid his cock inside, you nearly screamed.

"Bradley!"

"Shh." He tried his best to coax you to be quiet, but it didn't work until he clamped his left hand over your lips. "Baby, you can be as loud as you want when we're actually alone," he rasped, fucking you a little harder now. That little pleated red and white skirt brushed along your ass with each thrust, and Bradley wrapped his right hand around your waist, fucking you with deeper strokes. 

Your muffled cries had him close now as he moved his hand to palm your ass. He'd have to consider buying you a gag of some sort, and that had him actually cumming inside your tight pussy. 

"Fuck!" he grunted, letting go of your mouth and squeezing both of your ass cheeks as he fucked you until he was seeing stars. You just whimpered pathetically as you clenched around his softening cock. When Bradley pulled you up so your back was pressed against his chest, he ran his hands up under your skirt and teased your clit, really making sure you felt good.

"Coach!" you gasped, still fluttering around his cock as he pressed his lips to your neck. When you moved his fingers from your pussy up to your lips, he nibbled along your bare shoulder. You sucked on each of his fingers before you asked, "Did you like this as much as the kitten costume?"

He groaned so loudly, you giggled. "Yes, this was just as good as the kitten. Don't make me choose one." 

"You can have both," you promised, turning to kiss him as he withdrew his cock from your pussy and helped you to your feet. 

He watched his cum drip down and coat your thighs as he whimpered for you. And then he remembered what was tucked inside his pants pocket. Carefully he pulled out your repaired necklace and held it out to you. 

"Oh!" you gasped, reaching for it right away. "You fixed it!"

"Yeah," he whispered, kissing your parted lips. "Of course I did."

Once you had further examined it, you stared up at him with a look of awe. "It's better now," you told him, turning it over in your hand to inspect the engraving. One side of the paw print said Bradley and the other said Everett. He carefully clasped it around your neck before you wrapped your arms around his waist, and he just couldn't stop thinking about being here with you forever.

---------------------------

On Thursday, you were desperately trying to finish up for the day when another project got dumped on your desk. It was Everett's birthday, and you were hoping you'd be able to sneak out early and stop home to change before the Padres game. You started working on the new project before you decided to just say fuck it.

You turned your computer off an hour early and locked up your desk. You'd have time to change and meet everyone else at the ballpark since Everett was spending the day at the zoo with Molly. So you strolled to the elevator and then out to your car without a care in the world. 

And that's when your phone rang. It was your lawyer. You stumbled to a stop in the parking lot as you accepted the call. 

"A judge is not going to allow Daniel to sign away his rights. Not unless adoption becomes an option for your son. However, even when you acquire sole custody, which is basically a done deal, he'd still be required to pay you the child support he owes you, plus continue to pay in the future. Your ex husband would have one hundred and twenty days to try to dispute it. Would you like us to serve him with papers?"

Your heart was pounding as you played with the charm on your chain. You were beginning to feel like you had on your bathroom floor, short of breath and nauseous. "Can I think about it?" you asked softly. You didn't want to have to chase Danny for money. He would just make this as difficult for you as he could, and you didn't want to have to deal with him anymore at all. 

"Of course. Take your time."

You ended the call and climbed in your car. Bradley had implored you to keep him updated with the information your lawyer was giving you. But there was just no way you'd be able to tell him all of this. It would be mortifying, admitting to your boyfriend that more than anything, you wanted to know if he'd ever marry you and adopt your child. 

A pathetic sounding laugh bubbled out of you. No. You would just keep that information to yourself and decide if it was worth going after Danny at all. Because all you really wanted at the moment was your own name solely attached to Everett as his legal guardian. But that wasn't something you could have yet if at all.

---------------------------

Undefeated! Everett's birthday party is up next! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

Time to check out The Curveball for more of Molly and Bob!

PART 23

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[joelswritingmistress]

Camp Crystal Lake: Chapter 3

Requested by @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz

Joel Miller x f!reader (romance/horror)

Setting: Camp Crystal Lake

The reader is taking on the position of a camp counselor at the infamous Camp Crystal Lake. While she begins to enjoy her summer, even crushing on the camp director Joel, a killer lurks in the woods unbeknownst to anyone.

“So, do we get a merit badge or something if we survive?” I joked, walking side-by-side with Joel.

“If we survive?” He smirked as he spoke the words and then added, “Oh, you mean Jason and Camp Blood and all that.”

“Camp Blood?” I laughed.

“You haven’t heard that one before?”

I shook my head as we kept walking.

“Maybe you’re too young for that one,” Joel went on, “After the first incidents back in the eighties they started referring to anywhere on the lake as Camp Blood. I was just a little kid then. I think the nickname has died down a bit.”

“How old are you?” When I realized immediately that I’d blurted the question out, I was going to redact my words but Joel answered.

“Forty-two.” He nodded in my direction, “You?”

“Twenty-two.” I shrugged as I stated my age and then eyed the pile of firewood that Joel had chopped when we rounded the cabin.

“At forty-two, my back’s gonna be sore tomorrow from chopping all this wood.” Joel gave a light laugh, “Not when I was twenty-two though.”

I smiled at him. “Well, the least I can do with my youthful muscles is carry a bunch over.”

Joel chuckled again and held my stare for just a second. I was already on cloud-nine around him. I felt like he had a more serious side, though the bit of playfulness he’d shown so far made me feel instantly comfortable around him.

That’s just the infatuation talking, I warned myself.

I tried to max out what I could carry in some feeble attempt to impress him. The two of us wandered back to where everyone was gathered near the dormant fire pit and set the logs down. Joel threw a few into the center and within a few minutes the fire was blazing as we all sat down.

Across the lake I could see the dark silhouettes of the treetops in the distance. There was a stillness to the water that finally allowed me to relax as I reached for a marshmallow and Sandra passed me a can of beer.

“I don’t want to scare anybody,” Joel began, “But I want to give it to you all straight about Jason.”

My eyes snapped up now. The relaxation I had been feeling a second before was splintered by a small hit of adrenaline.

“If you listen to the old timer’s in town, they’ll tell you he’s still out here somewhere, like some sort of demented creature. Feral, living off of wild animals. Some folks claim they’ve even seen him.” Joel’s eyes met mine across the way and he gave a half-smirk that made me smile wide.

“Right in this area,” he went on, not breaking eye contact, “The girl that survived that night at Camp Blood, that Friday the 13th.. she saw him.. and then she disappeared a few months later. No one knows what happened to her. And then there was the massacre not long afterwards on the lake. One survivor. And then another.. and another. The original Camp Blood is just a short walk from here, where it all started.”

“Give me a break,” Vicky said with a half-hearted laugh.

“It’s true,” I intervened with a nod. “I grew up here. My parents showed me an old clipping one time. People still talk about it.”

“You’re from around here?” Teri asked.

I nodded. “The kids I grew up with all talked about Jason. We weren’t allowed near these woods back then.”

The girls’ expressions changed and they both straightened up a bit as they focused back on Joel.

“Legend has it that Jason saw his mother beheaded that night, and then he took his revenge. A revenge he’ll continue to seek if anyone ever enters his wilderness again.”

I felt myself leaning just a bit toward the fire, leaning toward Joel. The others’ postures mirrored mine as they were now engaged in the story he was telling. Scott looked over his shoulder toward the bushes behind where he sat, and I saw his Adam’s apple rise and fall in his throat.

“By now, I guess you all should know, we’re the first to return here since the Jarvis family was attacked across the lake all those years ago.” Joel’s eyes scanned the crowd, “Twenty something years,” his eyes met mine again and he winked subtly, “Twenty-something years he’s been dormant. And he’s stir-crazy.” He lowered his voice just a bit and the flames from the fire casted shadows perfectly over his face, “Jason’s out there.”

I glanced to the side when Sandra cuddled up closer to Jeff and he slung an arm around her.

“He’s out there,” Joel repeated quietly, “Ready to devour. Ready to kill. Thirsty for young blood.”

A shrieking sound from the woods behind everybody sent a chorus of screams into the air as a figure leapt out with a disfigured face and a long spear in one hand.

I jumped from where I was seated and ran around the opposite side of the fire, prepared to sprint in the opposite direction; though then I heard laughter and I realized quickly that the person who’d jumped out of the bushes was sporting a mask. They lowered the spear.

“Hey, guys come back.” Joel waved a hand at the now-scattered group of us and chuckled. He patted the person on the back who wore the mask. 

There were laughs and groans all around.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack,” Ted complained, holding his chest with a smile.

A woman revealed herself to be beneath the mask and gave a wave as she shook her hair out. “I’m sorry to meet all of you like this,” she said, “I’m Annie, I’m Joel’s assistant.” Annie laughed sheepishly, but still appeared amused. “I’m sure we’ll get to know each other over the next few weeks.”

Everyone took their turn saying, “Hi,” or waving, before Joel took back over.

“Okay, now that that’s out of our system,” he concluded, “Jason was killed and Camp Blood is off-limits.” Joel raised his hand and high-fived Annie.

“You all have a good time,” she said, “I’m turning in early, but I couldn’t resist.” Annie put her hand inside the mask and toyed with the fake spear, “If anyone needs me for anything, I have one of the rooms downstairs off the living room.”

“Yeah, I’ll come see you for my second heart attack,” Jeff said, smirking to himself as he pulled Sandra back against him.

“I have baby aspirin for that,” Annie teased and then gave a wave. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Joel made his way in my direction and reached into the bag of marshmallows nearby. “You know, you might’ve been the fastest counselor here. You got all the way out by that tree over there.”

I looked down and laughed, biting my bottom lip as he handed me a marshmallow. “You definitely got me.” I placed the marshmallow on the tip of a stick. “You don’t think Jason’s really alive, do you?”

Joel’s face grew serious as he stared at me and I felt that familiar sensation of the hairs rising on the back of my neck. “Well..” he held my stare and then a slow smile spread across his face. “No.”

I let out the deep breath I didn’t realize I had been holding and chuckled, shaking my head.

“I shouldn’t have scared you guys,” Joel said.

“No, it was good,” I told him, “I think we needed to address the elephant in the room.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

I nodded and placed the marshmallow over the fire. A few seconds later, it was flaming and I pulled it out, blowing the fire out that clung to the brown and white blob on the end of the stick.

“Here.” Joel reached down and retrieved two graham crackers and then reached behind us into a package of chocolate bars.

I set the marshmallow down on one of the crackers in his hand, watching carefully as he placed the chocolate on top of it and then topped the snack sandwich with the other end. I then removed the stick and lifted my eyes to meet his as Joel handed the ‘smore over to me in its entirety.

“Thank you.” I nodded.

“My pleasure.” Joel kept his eyes on me as I took a bite and then asked, “You’re sure the Jason stunt wasn’t too much?”

I licked some drippy chocolate off my finger and shook my head. “Just right.”

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 4

@gissellec1 @cattt777 @mellymbee @armybts20137@bbiophiliaa @littleblackcatinwonderland @mermaidgirl30 @milaspascal

[everythingmaxriemelt]

First look images of Max’s new film “Zwei zu Eins” (“Two to One”) ❤️ The strong cast includes Sandra Hüller and Ronald Zehrfeld

From the Playmaker: In „Two to One,“ a group of clever East Germans seizes the chaotic post-GDR era in 1990 to retrieve hidden millions from an underground vault. As they outsmart formidable opponents, the heist takes an unexpected turn when money officially unrecognized in the GDR circulates.

Directed by Natja Brunckhorst and featuring the 2024 Academy Award-nominated Sandra Hüller („Anatomy of a Fall“, „Toni Erdmann“), alongside Max Riemelt („Sense 8“) and Ronald Zehrfeld („Barbara“, „Phoenix“), this historical comedy, based on a true story set in the GDR, promises uproarious laughs, unexpected twists, and the unmatched brilliance of the overall cast.

From Screen Daily: Directed by Natja Brunckhorst, Two To One is about a rebellious household who find millions of East German Marks in the turmoil of the currency union in 1990 - and take what they can carry. Hüller, who is Oscar-nominated for her role in Anatomy Of A Fall, stars alongside Max Riemelt (Sense8) and Ronald Zehrfeld (Phoenix).

Two To One is billed as a comedy with a strong social undercurrent about money, work and collective activism. It is the second film by writer-director Brunckhorst, who is also known as the actress of Christiane F. (1982). The film is produced jointly by ROW Pictures and zischlermann filmproduction. German distribution is handled by X-Verleih.

*photos from Row Pictures

[enter-drfrog]

CPDS as quotes from my theatre department’s discord pt 3

“Bad for business those bad dreams” -Max Bennett

“I came here to just mourn and cry” -Vanessa Wilcock-Wynn-Carroway

*in a southern accent* “There’s a difference between has sex and FUCKS” -Sandra Wilkinson (this just feels like her in 90 Degrees)

“Of course it’s you people with glasses on that like ranch” -Robert Grove (I feel like he would be a ranch hater)

“He looks like if he were in a 90s movie he would say ‘hey mister!’” -Annie Twilloil (about Dennis)

“Who the hell is burning their house down on a Sunday night?” -Jonathan Harris

“Sometimes I see a cute kid and I’m like oh I could take that” -Robert Grove

“It’s being pulled down by gravity…….or something else” -Trevor Watson

“He’s a sheltered little boy” -Sandra Wilkinson “Stop acting like you know everything about my life” -Chris Bean

“I’m feeling a lot of judgment for my open-toed shoes today” -Jonathan Harris

“You look like Jimmy Dean….I don’t know what Jimmy Dean looks like” -Annie Twilloil

“Brown, green, orange, yellow. I know my colors” -Trevor Watson

“Have you ever sneezed and thought: this is the day I die?” -Vanessa Wilcock-Wynn-Carroway

“There’s more ink on a crossword puzzle than a sudoku, so it tastes better” -Dennis Tyde

“I am the court of law bitch” -Robert Grove (literally just Trial to Watch)

“Is your heart muscle dying?” -Max Bennett (feels very Trial to Watch autopsy scene to me)

“I keep getting alarmed by my own shadow” -Dennis Tyde

“If you speak to me I’ll kill you” -Trevor Watson

“I can’t English the words” -Dennis Tyde

“I don’t think I would be surprised if someone stabbed me. It was probably coming for me at some point” -Robert Grove

“X is the ugliest number” -Max Bennett

“I hate you too. I’m so good at this game”-Robert Grove

“Why do you feel weird? You feel weird to my eyes. STOP” -somehow also Robert Grove

“I’m a dumbass. I’m a dumbass. I’m a dumbass. I’m a dumbass. I’m a dumbass.” - Dennis Tyde backstage every show before he goes on (I did not change a single thing about this quote attribution except for the name)

“Oh Christopher, why are you twirling?” -Sandra Wilkinson in the most utterly disappointed voice you’ve ever heard (again nothing was changed but the names)

“I’m always scared that my pants are gonna heave ho and let go” -this could apply to so many of them (Trevor, Annie, Jonathan)

“NOW LET’S GO DESTROY THE SET” -literally just the whole show

Bonus

“You fucking rat bastard, shit bag” -this is Dan from Now Museum, Now You Don’t

Part 1

Part 2

[bi4pan-polls]

Poll: Round 4 #1

Image ID in Alt text*

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

Max wasn’t sure what the future might hold. All he knew was that in that moment, it was just the two of them, alone in the universe, together. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

a cute lil max x sandra songfic to "ballerina" by jeremy shada i've been working on for a while. hope you enjoy!

[carusolikey]

The Blue Hour

a Max Phillips & Bloodsucking Bastards FanFic Chapter 1: There Goes the Building

Pairing: Max Phillips of Bloodsucking Bastards x afab!fem!reader

Rating: Explicit / NSFW 18+ (No Minors)

Author’s Note: I wrote this piece during the month of April 2024 - Adenomyosis Awareness Month, and the idea came to me during March 2024 (Endometriosis Awareness Month). This will not have any type of pregnancy kink, but will touch on infertility of OC due to the aforementioned; canon for this story is also that Vampires are infertile - there will be no Renesmé. OC is intended to be around the same age as Max, reader’s choice up or down, but no age gap. Because older afab/fem lovers are sexy - we drink and we know things.

Warnings: Most of these warnings will apply to later Chapters. Chapter 1 is fairly light and fluffy "getting to know you" with some steamy close calls, lingering touches and what have you (the what have you is the best part). But don't worry - we'll be getting down and dirty in Chapter 2.

A bit of rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration - P in V, oral [m + f receiving]), food play, 18+ only content, able bodied fem afab reader, alcohol consumption, non-gendered pet names, fem can be carried and has hair - though length is not mentioned, consensual "bondage", some use of y+n - but not explicitly, though consensuality is implied and intended through actions and reactions, no protection used for Vampire reasons TBD (be wise and always use protection, this is fiction). Did attempt to stay away from gendered pronouns and nicknames, although did use the word woman, 3 times throughout the entire piece (not fully published yet) referring to OC. Future chapters will discuss history endo / adeno, and of previous relationship / SA; there will also be Vampire hunting, murdering, and blood….sucking bastards.

Return to the Masterlist!

Sitting at my little mahogany desk, stretching back in the leather desk chair, I shut off my phone alarm as it blasted the opening chords of Raspberry Beret. 3:15 a.m. - time to grab my laundry from the basement of the old apartment building where I was settled.

Weird time to be doing laundry, huh? Not for me, though - I’d had insomnia for, let’s see, I’ll have to count on fingers and toes, 5 + 12 + 3 months, so that makes...20 months. 

20 months without sunlight, for the most part. I’d had random doctor appointments that interrupted my daytime drowsiness, but about 20 months ago, I broke a little inside and haven’t been able to get back on a normal schedule.

So middle of the night laundry. And mail. And gym time, groceries, cleaning, working…

Honestly, it’s not that bad - I make my living narrating books, and I can do that whenever. Groceries get delivered to my apartment, I’m living Sandra Bullock’s The Net dream life. Peace, quiet, solitude, and ultimate zen.

Is it lonely sometimes? Sure. But that’s what my vibrator is for, and Mr. Rochester is doing fine work. The best part for us is that it’s pretty noncommittal, given that his back story is that he keeps his mentally unwell wife in the attic. Thank you, Charlotte Brontë.

As I headed down the apartment stairwell with my laundry basket against my hip, wearing my laundry day “Li’l Sebastian” (you’re 5,000 candles in the wind) t-shirt, and my hair in a side party-pony, I scrolled through my phone looking for the perfect song. Walking down the stairs, the scent of clean laundry wafting nearer, I enjoyed the open breezes from the stairwell windows. Spring was certainly taking the tepid steps of a lamb, easing along and bringing slightly warmer licks on gentle winds, carrying hints of flowers and plants experiencing horticultural resurrection.

The laundry room, in the dank cement-block basement, was far enough from the apartments that you could throw a party and no one would know, but it also had amazing acoustics. The actual accommodations, on the other hand, left much to be desired - but down here? Chef’s kiss - perfection. Which is why I always seized the opportunity of being the only one awake doing laundry, to partake in one of my favorite activities: singing while folding laundry. The ultimate mood booster.

As I scrolled through my Spotify, I landed on a classic and hit play, crooning in my best sultry voice, “I was staring at the sky, just looking for a star, to pray on or wish on or something like that…”

I continued folding, singing at the top of my lungs, letting my voice trickle through the runs, shimmying my shoulders as I danced in place. Breathing right along with Fiona Apple during Paper Bag, “Oh, hunger hurts - but I want him so bad, oh-oh it kills, because I know that I'm a mess that he don't wanna clean up. I got to fold because these hands are just too - shaky to hold. Hunger hurts, but starving, it works, when it costs too much to love.”

Daintily placing the last folded item on top, I turned around and was startled to see a man in a three piece suit standing in the doorway of the laundry room.

This is why I don’t wear airpods down here. Safety first.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize someone else was down here. And - you just had to endure me giving a private demonstration on how to sing like no one’s listening and dance like no one’s watching.”

I uncomfortably raised my eyebrow and pursed my lips.

“If I gave you money, you could be my private dancer, my dancer for money.” He smirked.

“Tina Turner? Really? I don’t know if that’s the best way to - “ I paused before changing my mind, “No, wait a minute, I think if you’re even going to start with that proposition you have to at least sing it to me. Otherwise, that’s a lazy proposal.”

He didn’t laugh, but he didn’t not laugh. While I gave him the once over, waiting for his response, I noticed that he was unnervingly handsome. Sandy brown hair, with eyes like a hot, fresh espresso, I could practically smell the roasty cinnamon and nutmeg, getting lost in them as he poured them over me, so warm and comforting. His smile crept up to one side - I had a hard time determining its sincerity, but he certainly seemed amused by me. Why? I had no idea. Like the mere idea of me tickled him as he watched me uncomfortably shift in my laundry day outfit and party pony under his gaze.

“Another time, absolutely.” I took a step back, confused by his response, “I’m more interested in who you want so bad that it kills?”

“Huh?” I asked him, ineloquently, and then, “I’m sorry - what are you asking me?”

He gave a low chuckle, and stepped closer, “The song you were singing. You sang about how you ‘want him so bad, OH, it kills,’ -- “ he put his face next to mine, “who do you want?”

“You’re intense, aren’t you?”

Stepping back, he raised his eyebrows.

“How about a, ‘Hi, my name is, I don’t know - Blake? I live in the building, I like ponies and narwhals, and my favorite book is something super pretentious about fountain pens’?” 

His smile widened from a half smile to a full smile, “My name is Max Phillips, I live in the building, I do like ponies - and narwhals, in theory, I’ve never seen one. My favorite book is The Grapes of Wrath and basically anything by Bill Waterson.”

“Wait - Bill Waterson? Calvin & Hobbes, Bill Waterson?” I responded, a bit shocked, but highly intrigued.

“Yes, but I think you’re supposed to respond in kind,” the words were nice, although they sounded a bit like an order, which I’m not a huge fan of, but for some reason I didn’t seem to mind coming from him.

I told him my name, that I was a huge Capote fan, loved Breakfast at Tiffany’s and In Cold Blood, but that I also really, really loved Dickens, too. Specifically David Copperfield. I hated to admit it, but somehow he’d cracked me open and gotten me talking about my favorite subject. As I stood there waxing on about the upside down ship house and Aunt Betsey Trotwood, and how the movie Breakfast at TIffany’s differed from the book, the laundry basket kept drooping lower and lower on my hip. Without realizing it until I had finished a particularly impassioned speech, I noticed that Max was holding my laundry basket for me. I had been wildly gesticulating with both hands while he contentedly watched me.

“Oh my goodness.” I started, realizing that I’d  gone off on a tangent, “I’m so sorry - you probably have other things that you’re meant to be doing.” 

My eyes drifted to his suit, perfectly tailored, the button-up underneath holding on just barely, and the snug collar that would probably be a lot more comfortable for him if I were to loosen his tie for him. I bit my lower lip, thinking about it - and then told myself to snap out of it. Alone is good and healthy. So what if my therapist friends say “fine” is a four letter word? I’m fine. I’m FINE. He’s fine. Haha. No. Back to narrating books. Oh shit, he’s looking at me.

“I’m not in any rush,” he started - but I took the laundry basket away from him anyway. 

Immediately, he reached out and grabbed my hand in between my thumb and forefinger, pressing firmly, “Did you know that this spot right here is an acupressure point, that helps with migraines?”

“Oh!” caught by surprise, I let out a gasp. “Well, that’s incredibly useful information, thank you,” nervously, I chuckled, “I’m gonna go, but it was really nice to meet you, Max.”

“It was an extremely pleasurable experience for me, as well.” He said, his words dripping with single, double, and I didn’t know it was possible, but triple entendre as well.

As I walked back up the stairs, I thought about what he had just done for me - the acupressure point. How did he know that I was getting a migraine? Was it just obvious from my facial expressions? Well, I suppose I’d rather he recognize that I was having a migraine than think I wasn’t interested. Wait - is he a doctor? Shoot. I didn’t ask. We also didn’t exchange numbers. I can’t go back, I’m already halfway up the stairs. Ugh! You know what? No. I’m therapist “F” word. FINE. If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen. Meanwhile, I know Mr. Rochester is charged and waiting. It’s all good.

By the time I got back to my apartment my migraine was actually gone, and I was feeling quite flushed after the passing experience with Max, so I decided to treat myself. I lit my fancy Sage & Peppermint candle, turned on my “To Be Savored” playlist, then went straight to my treasure box and pulled out Mr. Rochester. I know exactly how to set the mood for me.

I thought about Max’s handsomely roguish grin, with its slight dimple and the way his eyes crinkled playfully, like he wanted to keep toying with me all night. Placing Mr. Rochester onto my clitoris, then rubbing up and down to get him wet - easily done. After where my thoughts had been, I turned him on to the first vibration and started moaning lightly. In the back of my mind, it registered that I heard footsteps coming down the corridor of apartments in the hallway, just outside of mine. I turned the vibrator up another click and moaned a bit more, thinking about a fantasy situation where Max came bursting into my apartment, and fucked me right here and now. Suddenly, the footsteps stopped right outside the door of my apartment.

Panting, there was a sudden twitch as my clitoris began to orgasm, unable to determine what was fantasy and reality.

“Is he outside my apartment?!” I hissed in confusion and paranoia. I ramped up the vibrator, and let myself have it, breathing out, “Oh god, Max!”

Then, the footsteps started again, and I heard a deep baritone chuckling.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Shit.

Well, there goes the neighborhood.

It had been a few days, and I started to wonder if Max was actually real, or just the product of my desperate, overactive imagination. If that was the case, kudos to me. I really could not have imagined a more perfect specimen.

I would be glad, if he were simply imagined. 

Because I was so horrified post-self-coital that he might’ve heard me, that I did actively hide even more so than I’ve already been hidden. 

But I still had to get mail, and I do still exercise pretty regularly, so there was bound to be an incident. Not that there had been, or that we’d bumped into each other in the gym before, but the odds of someone you’ve never met from your building, bumping into you in the laundry and then walking down your hallway at the exact moment that you just happen to decide to masturbate to their extremely, tall, hovering frame - the odds, what were they, really? I laughed to myself, to keep myself from overheating and crying a little bit. 

However, I’d been keeping my nighttime moonlighting as the resident lounge singer on the very, very nonexistent down low. Which, yes, “crushes my fragile spirit,” sure, but worth it not to bump into someone I fantasy-orgasmed to very loudly.

Especially if they were real and happened to hear me through my poorly sound-proofed door. The cringe is real, the cringe has its own cringe, the cringe lives in a house made of cringe on Cringe Lane in the town of Cringe at the edge of Cringe Lake. But when you say it that way, it just sounds British, and suddenly, my cringe sounds quaint, doesn’t it? But oh, god - what if Cringe Lake has a Cringe Lake House, with a magic mailbox? No. I can’t entertain that idea. It’s too much, I’m spinning out!

The only thing that really centers me, is heading down to the basement gym. Is it poorly lit with the same cement block walls as the laundry room? Is it carpeted with a full wall of mirrors and a bar for an imaginary barre class that I sometimes pretend that I’m taking? Are there only two ellipticals, one exercise bike, and only one set of mismatched weights, but 5 treadmills? Yes, yes, yes, always, yes, yes, yes, who knows why - maybe because of the prancercise craze of the mid 90’s? (It’s just prancing. Prancing, I said!)

My machine of choice? Always the elliptical. I’ve never been skiing, but I like to pretend like I’m Audrey Hepburn, in the Swiss Alps at the very beginning of the movie Charade, when she’s at a ski resort in the Swiss Alps, not skiing at all, and then she never goes back there at any time for the rest of the movie. What I’m really saying is, I watch something on my iPad for almost an hour until I reach an esoteric high.

Tonight though, I needed to focus. No comfort binging Law & Order: SVU. Nay, it was vital I concentrate on the latest book I was narrating. I would love to say that it was something that will take the literary world by storm but, it was definitely a bit more niche. 

The plot was focused on sexy British assassins - a first day on the job for one, while the other had been training their whole life. Naturally, the conflict being that they’d slept together once before and someone accidentally lost their memory when they were kidnapped. Of course, that led to misunderstandings, and one assassin thought the other was blowing them off, when it was just simply a case of, “I was drugged by a rival assassin team and forgot everything that happened between us”.

Make no mistake, once everything was cleared up - there was a lot of sex in this book. A LOT of sex in this book. So much. And you have to wonder when people are writing this, is this what they like? Do they have a partner that they’re trying all of this out with first to make sure it works? Should I be trying this out first in order to be an accurate narrator?

Oh, no. Stop thinking about Max.

As I placed my iPad on the elliptical along with my water bottle and stepped up onto the machine, my thoughts began to drift. Setting the machine to Interval Training, I opened up my iPad to the book and continued where I’d left off, trying to decide what voice I would give to the main character, to her counterpart. Although, there was a possibility the author would be finding another narrator to read for the male character. I wouldn’t know until later.

These thoughts trailed beneath as I read about how the male character could identify the female character by her scent. Ridiculous, I thought, letting out an amused giggle, even with a personalized perfume, really? Tracking her by her scent across London? Who would buy that?

Things continued to heat up for the protagonists, but right before they were about to rip their clothes off, my elliptical made a disappointed, whoosh sound as it transitioned from cool down to off.

Same, elliptical. Same.

Climbing off the elliptical, I turned up the music on my phone, and started stretching out my muscles. As I finished my stretches, Adele’s Send My Love (To Your New Lover)  came on, and there was no way I was going to resist singing along.

Fuck it, it’s 2:45 a.m.

I grabbed the mirror rail, feeling myself entirely, swaying my hips back and forth. Sliding down and dipping back up, dragging my hand down my neck, my chest, and letting it rest on my stomach, I closed my eyes and belted, “Send my love to your new lo-o-ver! Treat her be-e-etter. We’ve gotta let go of all of our ghosts, we both know we ain’t kids no more….”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m very glad we’re not kids anymore.” 

“Oh SHIT!”

I jumped and hit my elbow against the mirror, then immediately slid down the mirror hard and hit the same spot on my elbow on the mirror rail, landing on my backside, cradling my elbow.

“Oh! Sad face!” I yelped.

“Did you just say ‘sad face’?” Max had rushed over from where he’d been standing in the doorframe watching me, and with tempered concern put his hand on my forehead, then my arm to see if I was alright.

“Yes, I believe it’s the current preferred standard of emoting. It’s clear, concise…it’s um,” I started to drift a little.

“Hey, stay with me, tell me more about your emojis.”

Taking his phone, he turned on the flashlight and shone it in my eyes, holding my chin to keep me steady, “Pretty eyes, song bird,” and gave me a half smile.

“I’m not a BIRD. I’m a full grown adult woman.”

Eyeing me up and down, Max scoffed gently while shaking his head, “There’s no denying that. Luckily it looks like you don’t have a concussion, but unfortunately,” licking his lips softly as he looked at my elbow, which had a large splinter of wood sticking out of it and a little bit of blood starting to drip from the site, “I’m gonna have to cut my workout short. I think this is definitely a ‘walk my sexy neighbor home emergency’.”

It was my turn to scoff, “Okay, okay - how many sexy neighbors do you walk home every night? Don’t act like this is impressive or like I should be impressed because I’m not.”

He didn’t laugh out loud, but his deep laugh rumbled and shook his chest, like he was deliberately trying not to laugh at me. As though he thought it was important to me, to be taken seriously. Which it IS, of course, but - why does he know that? 

Sweeping his right arm under my left arm, leaving my wounded right arm out so that I could hold it close to my chest, and using his left arm to lift me up by the legs, he picked me up.

“Just the one,” he smirked as he made direct eye contact - and carried me up five flights of stairs. 

It was definitely impressive, but I had to ask him when we got to the top, “Why didn’t you take the elevator?”

Max clicked his tongue and looked at me reproachfully, “Never, ever miss leg day. Ever.” and then he used me to do curls, after unlocking the apartment and walking inside.

“I object! To being used as gym equipment!” I declared like a regular Lady Violet, the Dowager Countess of Grantham, and Max immediately set me down on my leather couch.

“Much better.” Quietly approving in a mutter from my seated position.

“I’m assuming bandages, antiseptic, antibiotic ointment, that’s all in your - bathroom?” I nodded, still feeling a little woozy, as I watched him walk away.

And then panic struck as I remembered something terrible, a pall was cast over my face as sudden abject horror and humiliation pulled me into a dark and spiraling pit.

“Oh no.” I whispered.

“What?” called Max, from the other room.

How could he possibly have heard that? Did I not whisper? Am I a loud whisperer like my mom and I just don’t know it yet? Max returned, with the engaging smile of someone ready to sell me a bridge, and holding Mr. Rochester, “Is this what you’re looking for?”

My eyes grew wide and large and extra. I ran through a list of possible scenarios where this worked out well for me, and I hated every single one where I admitted it was mine. Normally, yes, I don’t care. I’m very sex positive, but (sobbing internally) this man. I am just not there yet, and I get to make that decision, right? Right.

“What’d you find there?” I asked innocently.

Genuine shock washed over Max’s face and  he looked slightly taken aback for a split second, before smoothing himself over, and resuming play, “It was sitting on a towel on the sink in your bathroom.”

I shrugged my shoulders, I touched my face, I looked up and to the left, hid my thumbs, pursed my lips, I basically inadvertently did everything the FBI guy from the podcast about lie detecting said liars do.

“Oh, um, I don’t know. Maybe - uh, maybe maintenance left it here?”

“Maintenance?” Max gave me a dubious look.

“Yeah, the –“ had to pause while I remembered everything that might go in a bathroom that I was willing to have clogged in front of him, “SINK was clogged. I had to get maintenance here to use something for it. I think that’s a snake, is what they call it, right there. What that is.”

“A snake? For clearing clogged drains?” He bit the inside of his cheek, and ground his jaw - I could tell he was not convinced, and might be slightly amused, “You know I’ve used a snake before, this isn’t it.”

“Oh my god. I wonder if someone - accidentally - left it here during one of those, neighbor meetings.”

“What neighbor meetings?” Max gave me a very skeptical look.

“You know, the ones we have. With chips and dip and we talk about neighbor happenings. I don’t think you were at the last one. Probably it’s a microphone. Cordless. With bluetooth for TIkToks,” I gave an extra super chill shrug to add to my very convincing improv acting that has not remotely degraded in skill over the years, “Obviously.”

“You know what. You’re probably right.” He said, seeming very convinced, and I don’t think he noticed, but I did breath a sigh of relief. 

“I’ll check in with all of the neighbors, and make sure that I’m on the email list for the next neighbor meeting, while simultaneously checking to see who might’ve misplaced this ‘device,’ here. In your apartment.” The look he gave me was smug.

I grabbed my Nic Cage sequined throw pillow, and hugged it tight, groaning when I realized we still hadn’t attended to my arm.

Max’s face softened, but only by a hair as he set down Mr. Rochester and walked towards me. Sitting down on the couch next to me, placing all of the medical supplies on the coffee table, he began to examine my arm. Licking his lips with a far off look in his eyes, he gulped softly, then took a tweezers and started removing the pieces of wood.

As he worked, he spoke softly, firm, but his voice remained smooth, velvety rich, plush - I wanted to run my hands against it and feel the warmth - nope, that’s the horny pain talking; but what he actually said was, “So, as I was saying, I’m going to take the ‘mysterious device’ from your bathroom for safe keeping. I’ll, uh, ‘check-in’ with your neighbors to see if it belongs to anyone,” then he looked directly into my eyes, holding mine and not letting go - deep caramel brown pulling me into him, “and if I can’t find who it belongs to in a few days time,” I groaned at that, “I’m sorry, am I hurting your arm?” I bit my lip, knowing that wasn’t why I groaned, “then I’ll bring it back, and we can explore the device together. Try and figure out what it does, how it works, the best way to use it. Sound good?” 

He looked up at me from under his eyebrows, and I melted. Oof, he was smarmy and smooth, and I had a bad feeling he was going to be my achilles dick.

I tilted my head to the side like a puppy and raised one eyebrow, “I suppose that could be – ” pausing as I bit my lip, debating the right word, “amenable.”

“Well, we certainly wouldn’t want to inconvenience you, would we?” Max looked back down at my arm, taking a wet, soapy, warm cloth, and gently washing off my elbow.

The action was so small and insignificant, but I found myself easing out of my discomfort as I watched him dry off my arm, and apply a large bandage. 

Snapping out of it, I started to sit up, “Oh wait, no - I just finished exercising, I need to take a shower first, I’ll put a bandage on afterwards.”

Max looked at me, one eyebrow raised, as he continued what he was doing, and I scrunched my nose up at him in response. 

Giving me his smug half-smile with the dimple, his voice somewhat patronizing, “Now that this is taken care of, I’ll run a bath for you – “

“Extra bubbles, if you must,” I interrupted, frowning at him and feeling slightly suspicious. Who was he to run baths for me in my own apartment? I picked up my phone and started passive aggressively scrolling for bath tunes, because of course, despite the nerve of this man, I was going to enjoy my bath. 

“Alright,” Max came out of the bathroom, “I hope it’s hot enough for you.”

Looking up from my phone, I couldn’t help myself from drawing my gaze slowly up his body, slowly lingering on his stomach, where his shirt lifted as he stretched his arm above his head. The V of his stomach, disappearing into his sweats, the light trail of hair from his navel to - destination unknown as of yet, but those pants gave some ideas. Oh my god, I’m such a Samantha! I giggled to myself, and Max gave me a confused, yet intrigued look.

I shook my head, “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure the water is fine, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he crossed over to the couch, reaching under my left arm, and giving me a lift so that I could walk leaning against him. I groaned getting up, “Yeah - you’re sore, aren’t you? You fell pretty hard. The hot water should help, I added some bath salt with the bubbles.”

“Why are you being so nice to me? We barely know each other.”

“I’m being a decent person. You need to adjust your bar for ‘so nice’, because that threshold is too low, Sweetness.”

As he walked me into the bathroom, I saw that he’d lit a candle, and put all of my shower toiletries, as well as a fresh towel on the bench next to the bathtub, within easy reach. It really wasn’t a hard thing to do, it was a simple, nice thing to do for someone who’d just hurt themself, but it got to me and I had to swallow a lump I felt rising in my throat.

Turning to him, my eyes starting to sparkle a bit with the beginnings of tears that I was determined to hold back, but my sincerity would not be mistaken, “Thank you. I mean it.”

His mouth was smiling, but his eyes lost their crinkle and his eyebrows frowned slightly, “You’re welcome. Now, I’m gonna be just outside the door, over there on the couch, catching up on some emails on my phone, but if you need me –” he mimed the words ‘call me’ while holding his hand up to his ear like a phone.

I nodded, chuckling at his corny sense of humor, “Okay, buddy. Will do,” giving him a thumbs up. He gave a look indicating that he did not like being referred to as ‘buddy,’ and I laughed a little harder while closing the door on him.

Shedding my clothes and tossing them into the hamper, I noticed that I had a large purple and green bruise forming on my backside. Perfect, that’s gonna be sore for a little while. Before stepping into the tub, I popped on my playlist - the water was nice and hot, and felt amazing on my sore body as I sank lower into the water. Yes, yes, and yes - perfection. I let my bandaged arm rest on the edge of the tub as I soaked a cloth, washing my face and the rest of my body. Using the handheld shower head attachment with my left hand, I rinsed through my hair, getting it thoroughly soaked. 

I grabbed my shampoo bar soap and started to lather, realizing very quickly that with an elbow that I couldn’t bend, I was going to have to do it one handed. 

“Shoot!” I muttered under my breath, as I tried to figure out the best way to do  it without getting my bandage wet.

Immediately there was a knock on the bathroom door. “Is everything alright? I’m coming in, but my eyes are closed.”

Max walked in with one hand on the doorknob, and the other over his eyes. I quickly put my left arm over my chest, despite the fact that there were still a LOT of bubbles covering me up. Max knows how to make a good bubble bath, I’ll give him that. 

I looked down at myself, and realizing that it was fine, said, “You can look, Max. It’s all good.”

He took his hand down from his eyes, and closed the door behind him. “I’m just struggling a bit to wash my hair while not bending my arm. I mean, I’m sure I can get used to it - I’m just in an adjustment period.”

He sat down next to the bathtub, “Why don’t I help you out tonight - you’re still obviously in shock, right?”

It definitely was a question that indicated concern, but I had a strong sense that he was cajoling me. Mr. Spider, may I introduce you to Miss Fly?

Bickering with my shoulder angel and demon, I opted to accept his offer - because I was sore, and even if his bid to assist me concealed darker intentions, I struggled to care. Somehow, within the presence of his pheromones, his spicy musk, leather and oaky whisky, there existed nothing outside of the puzzle box where we existed, where I was kept like his little secret treasure.

Handing him the shampoo bar, he dipped his hands in the bath water quickly, and started lathering up the bar. “Can you sit up?” 

I put my left arm back over my chest and leaned forward until I rested my breasts against my knees, my right arm still clinging to the tub. Max started to massage the shampoo into my hair and I involuntarily leaned my head back into his hands, moaning gently.

“Well, if that’s all it takes to get you to make sounds like that, maybe I should come by and wash your hair again tomorrow.” he teased, his voice irresistibly oozing charm.

“I mean –” I started without finishing, my eyes blissfully closed, thoroughly enjoying what Herbal Essences commercials of the 90’s long ago promised and never delivered.

Cackling, actually gleefully cackling - pleased with himself, Max took the handheld shower head and rinsed the shampoo from my hair. “Alright, I’m assuming there’s a conditioner next?” I pointed to the Olaplex No. 5, “Okay, Fancy.”

“You don’t have to use very much, a lot goes a long way.” I looked over at him, resting my chin on my knees.

“Fair enough.” He squeezed a bit of conditioner into his open palm, and then started rubbing it with both hands into my ends, working his way towards the roots. 

“Uh, this is not your first time washing a woman’s hair, is it?” I asked, my voice brimming with curiosity.

“Well, that would be part of my backstory.” I frowned at his response.

“Which I will tell you. One day. But I think it’s a little soon for that.” Max could tell that he was losing me to my thoughts, “But no, it’s not something that I’ve done for a sexy neighbor before.”

Immediately, I was brought back to the here and now, as the word ‘neighbor’ must have given me the same tone of face that I had given Max when I called him ‘buddy’. He looked particularly self-satisfied, as I shot him an admonishing glare.

“How long do we need to leave your conditioner in?” he asked, as my playlist moved onto one of my favorite songs, albeit an unfortunate choice for the moment - Sharon Van Etten’s, Jupiter 4. 

Twisting my hair up, I gestured towards a hair clip on the bathroom sink. Max picked it up, and while I used my left hand to hold my hair up on top of my head, he clipped my hair in place for me.

“Thanks, I usually leave it in for the length of a song - this one should be good.” Blushing as I thought about how sexy this song made me feel. I started to lean back, crossing my left arm back over my chest, and sank back in the water - letting my chest and abdomen be submerged, while my knees and legs stuck out in peaks from the water and the bubbles.

“This is Sharon Van Etten - “ Max paused, “I really like her, and this song,” he took a breath, raised an eyebrow, while looking me up and down, and started singing in his low voice, “Touching your face,” he leaned forward and lifted my chin towards his face with his index finger and thumb, “How’d it take a long, long time - to be here. Turning the wheel on my street. My heart still skips a beat. It’s echoing, echoing, echoing - “ he stared into my eyes, and it felt like another world was opening up to me, “Baby, baby, baby, I’ve been waiting, waiting, waiting my whole life for someone like you.”

As he leaned forward on the tub, his arm knocked the bottle of conditioner into the water, and I took a deep breath in, realizing that I had stopped breathing during his serenade. I broke my gaze from him to the water where the bottle had fallen in, near my legs, and then back to him. Without breaking eye contact with me, he reached through the warm, foamy water, leaning closer to my face as he carefully waded deeper beneath the bubbles.

His hand didn’t touch me, exactly, but felt along the edge of the tub, near the side of my body, going down. I knew where he needed to go, I could feel where the bottle was and squeezed my legs together, tilting them both towards the wall. Suddenly, he put his hand on my right thigh, slowly going up towards my knees. I closed my eyes, and I could feel his breath on me as he turned his face, leaning closer into my neck. 

When he got to my knees, I breathed out like I was breathing through a straw, opening my eyes and looking down the tub at his large hand. He slipped his fingers between my knees and gently wedged them apart, stretching his hand so that his thumb was on one leg, and his pinky was on the other. Slowly, he dragged them down both legs, gradually pushing my legs open wider the further down he got. I could feel my heart rate increasing, my nipples growing harder, my vagina pulsing. Looking back at him, my mouth slightly open as my breath started to grow a bit more ragged, my eyebrows furrowing as I held myself back. Gazing back at me, his lips parted, his tongue poised between them, he watched me hungrily - and as I looked down at his sweatpants, I could tell his appetite was fully whetted.

His hand was almost to my vagina, to my clitoris - my whole body trembling, I involuntarily arched my back, letting my breasts peek out from the water for the briefest of moments, and Max’s eyes flickered down my body as he licked his lips. That hand, that cruel hand, slipped just mere seconds before touching me where I craved it. With a quick detour, he pulled the bottle of conditioner out of the water.

I cried out in agony, throwing my left arm over my chest, suddenly and abruptly sitting upright in the tub - trying to catch my breath, shaking as my body pulsed with uncontrollable longing. What is wrong with me? I hardly know this man. This is my neighbor. Oh god. THIS IS MY NEIGHBOR. And I let him give me a bath? Inside I was cry-laughing and dying. I’ve talked to him twice. How did I think this was a good idea?

Max said absolutely nothing. He turned on the handheld shower head and rinsed the conditioner out of my hair, then used one hand to rub my back while I focused on steadying my breath.

As my breath steadied, he asked, “Are you ready to get out?”

Standing up, he held the towel with both hands, and closing his eyes, “I promise I won’t open my eyes –” he opened one eye, looking amused, and then closed it, “again - until I leave the bathroom and, or, you say it’s okay.”

A simple enough promise - will he break it? I suppose there’s only one way to find out.

I sighed and said, “Yeah, I’m ready.” 

Standing up, I started to take the towel, but Max wrapped the towel around me instead, giving me strong arms to lean on as I stepped out of the tub, and closer to him and the overwhelming scent of him. Tucking in the towel I looked up at his face, with his eyes closed. The strong, angled, and clean shaven cut of his jaw, the beautiful line of his incredibly sexy aquiline nose - like a marble statue from antiquity. The line of his brow, begging me to trace my fingers across them, and his lips - always pulling back to reveal that suave smile and dreamy little dimple. What I wouldn’t do with those lips!

“You can open your eyes.” I spoke softly, embarrassed that I was here in this moment of intense vulnerability, somehow.

He opened his eyes and looked down at me, grinning at first, but then he saw my look of deflation and his gaze became stern.

“What’s wrong?”

Glancing down, I tried to find the words, “I’m not exactly sure what just happened –”

With an encouraging smile, Max asked, “Well, I helped my sexy neighbor wash her hair –” he squeezed my shoulders, “did she want something more to happen?”

“I’m not sure.” My brows knitted together as I looked up at him.

“And that’s why I didn’t do anything more. But rest assured, the moment I get a resounding ‘full speed ahead!’ I will be hard pressed to stop.” 

His eyes flashed down to my lips, sticking his tongue out just a little bit, and then continued, “You’re beautiful. You’re attractive, intelligent, funny - did I say smart? I’m not going to take advantage of you, or risk pushing you before you’re ready. We have time to get to know each other.”

I beamed as he fawned over me, heat rushing to my cheeks.

Feeling certain and satisfied that he had rejuvenated my spirits, he wrapped his arm underneath my left arm, opening the door and walking me out of the bathroom, naked but for a towel.

“What exactly are your plans for the rest of these midnight hours?” he casually asked.

I thought back to my iPad and the sexy assassin story, “Ah, well, I need to work actually.”

“Narrating? I’d love to sit in and listen.”

Again, I thought about the content of the sexy assassin story, and after that bath - no, no, no. My cheeks and my neck flushed red, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Besides, I don’t think the material would be up your alley.”

“Really?” He mocked surprise, “But how do you know? Unless you try?” giving me a wink.

The thought of reading him sexy lady-porn books and then ripping his sweatpants off and taking his cock in my mouth stopped me in my tracks and made my mouth twitch. You have a job, and you have to make money. You cannot make money sucking his cock. Or can you? No. You can’t. That’s not legal here. GODDAMMIT.

“As a professional,” I cleared my throat, “narrator, to be clear - it is - my professional opinion that you not be here while I work. Unfortunately. I’m sorry.”

I gave him an ‘ohmygod, I’m sooooo sorry,’ smile.

“That’s too bad,” he said, biting his lip.

“Yeah, maybe another time - like Bring Your Daughter to Work Day.” Why did I say that? Was that funny?

His eyebrows flashed up and down quickly, and he gave a surprised chuckle as he walked me to my apartment door. But not before stopping by the coffee table and grabbing Mr. Rochester.

“Can’t forget this,” he arbitrarily declared, “gotta make sure this little guy makes it back to his forever home. Bet his family misses him.”

And then he made it jump around in the air with his hand, making little yapping and barking sounds, like Mr. Rochester was someone’s lost purse dog. The blatant audacity of this man. I refuse to laugh.

When I didn’t laugh, Max made sad puppy whining sounds while nuzzling it up to my neck. “Noooooo.” I cried, closing my eyes in mock distress.

When we got to the door, he quickly nabbed my phone and held it up to my face, swiping up so that he could unlock it. Then, he called his phone from mine, and took a selfie of us together - him holding Mr. Rochester in one hand and his other arm around me in a towel. Which of course, he programmed so that it popped up every time he called me on my phone, and every time I called him, that way, “we could be phone twins.”

Stepping outside my apartment door, he turned around to speak to me, “So, I’ll see you in a couple days, after I confirm who this bad boy belongs to, and get myself situated with those,” he squinted his eyes at me, “building meetings. But if you need anything, you have my number.”

His eyes drifted down to where I was feeling tension, a craving that I wasn’t willing to give into just yet.

“Do you think you’ll be okay for a few days?”

He shook Mr. Rochester playfully, and my eyes widened, my left arm tightening around my towel, and I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Can he read minds? What is happening?

“I’ll be fine, and I promise I’ll text if I need anything.”

His grin widened, “Great! See ya soon!”

I closed the door and wobbled over to the couch, where I picked up my Nic Cage pillow and screamed into his sequined face, throwing it at the door afterwards.

Somewhere, far off, I could swear that I heard Max laughing.

Knowing full well that I am right handed and only technically a little ambidextrous because of piano lessons as a child, but definitely not enough to satisfy myself as necessary without Mr. Rochester - I looked down at my left hand, “You’re a disappointment, and I hate you.” 

But it wasn’t lefty’s fault alone, it was partially mine and I would remedy that later. But first, to slog through painfully sexy narration for the next few hours. I let myself give out a loud sob, and then told myself to buck up and be a professional.

To be continued...

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[writeturnlove]

There will be a Max Burnett fic. I have to write it. It’s also necessary because of one specific scene that needed to be extended and brightened up a bit.

In my humble opinion, I think some of us were given a few crumbs when we richly deserved all that cake.

Don’t worry, sis … we’re getting the 🎂.

[laurenbloomed]

new amsterdam cast season 4 bloopers part II💘🥹

the content we deserved

[its-been-rose]

May I ask who your headcannon couples are(or like who you think can work together?) and what trope they all are? AHHHHHHH I very much love your art btw!

Okay so I’m going to assume you’re referring to my Killer Frequency headcanons because I’m a KF blog so here goes

Also THANK YOU!! That means so much!!! I really do appreciate the support!

My headcanon couples range from practically canon to lmao what if.

The first couple is Marie and George. Yes, they’re canon, but lemme explain my headcanons for their dynamic. So basically they were originally the jock x nerd stereotype, but instead of Marie being that quiet geeky stereotype, Marie was excitable, energetic and peppy. George was quite shy around most other people except for people he knew, and really came out of his shell around her (and also around Jason whom he knew well). She was big into theater and suggested he try out for the play and he did and he found out he loved it so they just became a pair of little geeks in love doing everything together and not caring what other people were doing. But he still loved sports obviously and we all know how that ended up.

Next down is Leslie x Sara (the Deputy). Y’all you cannot tell me they do not have a thing. The way Leslie got flustered when she got caught calling Sara by her first name—— aaaaaaaaa. Ok so I think their dynamic would be like they’d both try to act super cool and professional but would just end up flirting constantly at work like a bunch of idiots lol. They’d each try to impress the other and they’d find it super cute.

Further down in the lmao what if category we’ve got Forrest and Sandra. This is only here because I thought the scene of Forrest aggressively trying to slide into Sandra’s DMs was HILARIOUS and they’re both older and I think they deserve each other lmao. Their dynamic would be like Forrest is the black cat and Sandra is the golden retriever. She needs someone to chill her out and he needs someone to put some fun in his life that’s NOT just sarcastically quipping at everything lol.

Next down is Eugene and Carrie. I don’t really have much evidence for this except for the fact that they both got hunted and maybe could like bond over their experiences lol. Idk I just think Eugene deserves a nice girl who will give him the time of day, and Carrie deserves a nice boy who won’t prank her (or go along with said prank) and will treat her RIGHT.

Other than that uhhhh maybe like Peggy and Ricky??? Maybe??? I don’t really see much of a romance there but like at least platonically they’d DEFINITELY be buddies. Also the age gap is a little big but also they’re both well into adulthood and it’s not CRAZY big like Forrest and Peggy would be and also there’s no power imbalance cuz they’re both kinda doing their own thing. Idk. Would Max like a step mom?

Feel free to chime in with your headcanons or pairings either anonymously in the asks or in the comments and we can chat about it lollll

[eating-plastic]

Headcanons: Roller Ricky General and Relationship Headcanons

A/N: Yes, I know I got done with a whole x reader fic with this man recently, but I got more ideas. This will include expansions on headcanons I mentioned in the fic and ones I didn’t. And yes, some of these will be relationship headcanons because I can’t help myself lol. That’s all for today. Bye!

🛼-It is implied that Roller Ricky would be in his mid-late thirties at the time of the game, but if I were to give him a specific age, I would say that he is 36-37 years old

🛼-He absolutely loves animals, and he occasionally volunteers at an animal shelter near Gallows Creek. While he has a preference for dogs, he doesn’t mind cats. Especially kittens, they are a close second to puppies when it comes to “warming his heart”

🛼-Speaking of animals, I should probably mention Maxy since he and Ricky are a package deal. I headcanon Max as being a German Shepherd. Idk why, that was just the first dog breed that comes to mind when I think of him

🛼-Ricky has a bunch of fun shirts that he sometimes dresses Max in. He even has some matching shirts of his own

🛼-Though he obviously doesn’t play the sport anymore, Ricky still enjoys watching football. He even bought a jersey of his favorite team for Maxy

🛼-While of course he loves roller disco, he also enjoys going on drives with Max in the front seat as a way to clear his head or get away from Gallows Creek for a bit

🛼-I can see him and Sandra being on good terms. While he’s not as crazy about jazzercise like she is, he doesn’t mind jogging with her from time to time

🛼-I see Ricky as being bisexual with a 50-50 spilt preference for men and women

🛼-This is because he is just looking for a person that he can hang out and have fun with. He wants someone who he can wake up with in the morning and go to bed with at night. Someone that he could see himself growing old with, and it doesn’t matter if that person is a man or a woman

🛼-This man is a massive cuddle bug. No one can tell me otherwise. Now, obviously he knows there is a time and a place for snuggling up with you and will respect your wishes on the matter, but if your down, he’ll be down. He also makes adjustments based on if you are shorter than him, taller than him, or the same height as him (I see him being 5′ 10″ / 178 cm)

🛼-While he does have his preferences when it comes to music, he’s not a music snob. If you listen to a genre or artist he’s not the biggest fan of, he’s not gonna tell you that “it sucks”. He’s more than happy that you can hear something in a song that he can’t

🛼-Speaking of music, Ricky will definitely make a relationship mixtape that contains songs that are significant to both of you

🛼-Dancing with him at the roller rink when it’s just you, him, and Max. That’s all. Just imagine that

🛼-This man is so good with kids. While he offers lessons for both adults and children alike, he often finds himself teaching kids. He’s encouraging, fun, and patient, which makes children like him. He also knows just what to say to calm down a kid that hurt themself or are getting discouraged at constantly falling over

🛼-All I’m saying is that if you and Ricky decided to have kids whether it be through adoption or ,if possible, getting you pregnant, he’s gonna be such a sweet dad  ❤️

🛼-As we know, he is apparently not too good with keeping secrets, so he would accidently tell you if he was going to propose to you. He’ll feel terrible about it, but you couldn’t care less. You’re happy to be his fiancé no matter how he pops the question 

🛼-His favorite movie genre is comedy, but he can sit through mostly anything. He’s not the biggest fan of horror movies. Especially ones that involve a masked psycho killing people. You can imagine why that might be a bit triggering for him. He’s cool with Universal monster movies like Dracula or Frankenstein tho

🛼-Ricky has a preference for spicy foods. I mean, he loves food in general, but the way to his heart is any dish with a bit of a kick to it

🛼-His love language is quality time. He loves spending time with you whether you’re going out to eat, taking Max for a walk, dancing with him at the roller rink, or just simply staying inside and watching TV

🛼-In conclusion, Roller Ricky is the ideal man and the reason why my standards have now skyrocketed. Thank you